#i can’t have more with how things are right now but i wanna raise geese again i love them sososo much :(

[bunnybisexual]

-

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[dumdumsun]

The Loveliest Lies of All

A/N: Welcome back ❤️

Warnings: none that I'm aware of

Word Count: 3599

—————————————

Chapter Two: Hard Times at the Huskin' Bee

The chirping of crickets, gobbling of turkeys and the honking of the soaring geese above indicated the morning creeping up on the trio (or quartet?). The sound that accompanied the early morning chat of the nearby animals was Greg blowing raspberries to feed his short attention span. Scout was mildly surprised that Wirt hadn’t yet snapped at him, but then again, the teen boy was skilled at blocking out his younger brother.

For the fourth time in the last hour, Scout’s leg had given out on her slightly, causing her to stumble a bit. What she would give to have a chair, a couch, a bed to rest her wounded leg for maybe half an hour. A full one, perhaps? Maybe even two?

“You know what? I think we’re gonna find a town soon,” She chirped. “I can feel it.”

“Well, we need to,” Wirt sighed, staring up at the sky that rained rays of sunshine upon them. “It’s almost morning. We should’ve found one by now. This is the way the Woodsman told us to go, right?”

“Yes, Wirt.”

Greg blew another raspberry before glancing up at his brother with big eyes. “Have you listened to anything I’ve been saying? For the last couple hours, I’ve been saying… Pbbt! Pbbt! Pbbt-”

“Well, that settles it,” He finally snapped. “I’m gonna walk up ten feet ahead of you.” He frowned and walked past the two. Scout sighed and shook her head at her friend in amusement. She failed to notice the boy stop his walking when he heard a voice call out to him.

“I hear something!”

Scout turned to Greg and started towards him. “Wirt, Greg heard something!”

“It’s probably nothing. Hey, look,” Wirt crouched down in front of a sign nailed to a nearby tree. “‘Pottsfield, one mile’. A town! Let’s go this way.”

“Okay. After this, though.” She turned away from him and joined Greg’s side. The boy had been digging into a bush and talking into it. Behind her, she heard Wirt’s footsteps before he was by her side.

“Greg, stop talking to a bush.”

“Okay.” The boy shrugged before reaching into the bush again. Seconds later, the same bluebird from the previous night flew out of the bush and flapped her wings above them.

Scout widened her eyes at the bird. “You!”

“Thanks! I owe you a favor. So, um, you guys are lost kids with no purpose in life, right?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Um-”

“How about I bring you to Adelaide of the Pasture, the Good Woman of the Woods? She could help you get home!”

As the two boys stared at the bird in awe, Scout narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. She didn’t trust this bird for one second. “Adelaide, huh? How’s she gonna help us?”

The bluebird scrunched what would’ve been her brows. “She has powers.”

“What kind of powers?”

“Powers that’ll get you home.”

“Why can’t she just show us the trail that leads us out of here? And why does no one else seem to know the way?”

Wirt exhaled and waved his hands about. “We don’t need magic talking birds leading us to fairy godmothers in the mysterious- I’m going to Pottsfield.”

“Yes. Pottsfield. C’mon, Greg.” Scout grabbed the boy’s hand and followed behind her friend.

“What about the favor?” The bird called.

Greg turned to her with a bright smile. “I’ll think of my wish later!”

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

Scout irritably sighed at the feeling of claws softly digging into her left shoulder. “Hey,” The bird softly started in her ear. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. What’s your name?”

“Just call me Scout.”

“Wait, seriously? Scout?”

The girl snapped her head to look at the bird. “Wanna get off on the wrong foot again?”

“Whoo, someone is sassy,” She gently tapped her cheek with her wing. “Well, Scout, you seem like a very capable young lady. What if I say… we ditch these goons and you come with me to Adelaide?”

Scout rolled her eyes and batted the winged creature off of her shoulder. “Then I say no. Never.”

Rolling her eyes, the bluebird huffed and flew next to Greg, no doubt attempting to convince the poor boy to ditch his brother and walk off with some stranger. Scout knew that Greg was smarter than that, better than that, so she didn’t bother scolding the bird. Noticing her now flapping above his shoulder, the boy brightly smiled. “So, let’s small talk. My name’s Greg. What’s yours?”

“Beatrice.”

“My brother’s name is Wirt.”

“Who cares?”

Wirt frowned and glanced at them over his shoulder. Scout sighed and shook her head.

“And my frog’s name is Wirt Jr.” Greg gently rubbed his frog’s back. “But that may change.”

“Okay. That’s great,” Beatrice lowered her voice as to not alert the two teens in front of them. “How about you and I ditch your brother and his girlfriend?”

Greg hummed in uncertainty and looked away. “Maybe later.”

Scout nearly tripped over a large pumpkin nestled within the patch they walked through. Wirt didn’t notice this and kept his gaze forward. “So, Scout, you’ll do the talking when we get there. Right?”

Huffing, the girl placed her hands on her hips. “If I must, you big wuss.”

“I-I’m not a wuss! I just- Aha!” He cheered and raised his fists triumphantly, the four now standing just above a town. “Civilization, see? Now-”

Scout tried to warn him, but the teen had walked right into a pumpkin. She watched silently with narrowed eyes as he kicked and wiggled his leg out of the vegetable before flinging it to the side. Regaining his composure, he turned forward and set his fists on his hips. “Alright. Let’s rejoin society.”

The “society” the group had walked into lacked one element. A society. There were plenty of houses littering the land, yet not a soul in sight. Rounding a corner, they walked between two houses as Wirt called out for any residents. “Hello? Hello? Hm… See anybody?”

“No,” Greg scanned the area before his eyes landed on his brother. “Oh! I see you!”

Without gaining the others’ attention, Scout slipped away to check inside the houses. They seemed… cozy. Each house was the same; small, single-roomed, and nearly empty. “These townsfolk need to invest in… well, everything…” Scout whispered as she shut the door to the fourth house she inspected.

“Scout!” Wirt called from beside a haystack. “Find anything?”

“Poor interior design, but nothing to help us.” She sighed before joining her friend at his side. “Where’s Greg?”

As if on cue, the young boy poked his head out of the haystack. “Do you hear that?”

From a barn within the distance, cheerful singing could be heard. Scout gasped and helped Greg out of the hay, frowning at the small pumpkin he must have stepped in a while ago, still on his foot. Shaking off her confusion, she let the boy keep his new shoe and followed Wirt into the barn. Peeking in, the group set their sights on something otherworldly.

The townsfolk- is that what they were?- were pumpkins. Well, their bodies were made of pumpkins, string, and actual clothing like hats. Each person had a distinct face drawn onto their pumpkin face, which sent a chill down Scout’s spine. Within the barn, the folk participated in all kinds of activities. Dancing around a tall string object, bobbing for apples, peeling apples, unhusking corn. The likes. They seemed lively, carefree.

“Oh, pardon me there.” A figure spoke as they shoved themselves between a frozen Scout and Wirt. Turning, one of the pumpkin townsfolk faced the group. “Say, you folks ought to don your vegetables and celebrate the harvest with us.”

“Uh… Oh! You’re wearing costumes!” Wirt realized.

“Well, sure. Pumpkins can’t move on their own. Can they?” He shrugged before walking away. Scout gripped Greg’s hand as she watched the pumpkin man go.

“Huh… Well, good thing you’re still wearing that pumpkin shoe, huh Greg?”

Said boy grinned up at Scout. “Yeah! I’m dressed for the occasion!”

Beatrice blinked. “You guys find this place as creepy as I do, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Wirt shrugged as if to reassure himself. “So, it’s some kind of weird cult where they wear vegetable costumes and… dance around a big thing. They seem nice enough.”

Feeling the hollow eyes of one of the townsfolk on her, Scout absentmindedly shuffled closer to Wirt. “There’s something off…”

“Well, maybe I can find someone here who will give us a ride home,” Wirt patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Scout, watch Greg. Greg, listen to Scout. Beatrice, thank you, but you can leave.” He waved the bird off.

Beatrice sighed. “I can’t leave. I’m honor-bound to help you since you helped me. That’s the- bluebird rules.”

Scout raised a brow as Wirt hummed and walked away. Greg’s eyes trailed up to his tea kettle hat that Beatrice sat upon. “Beatrice, did you know that Scout is the best dance partner ever known to man?”

“Awe, shucks, Greg…” Scout chuckled and let the boy lead her onto the dance floor.

“I’m not dancing with you.” Beatrice snipped, but Scout only grinned.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“It’s too late,” She giggled as she and Greg twirled to the music. “We’ve already started.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes and watched as Greg and Scout joined hands with the frog before dancing in a small circle. The bird noted that there was no way she was going to separate the girl from the young boy. She clearly cared about him, if she was willing to dance around like a fool in the middle of a festival hosted by pumpkin people. And not giving any lip about it, at that. Instead, she threw her head back and laughed joyfully with Greg just before a voice broke out and silenced the entire room.

“Leave Pottsfield?! Who wants to leave Pottsfield?!”

The second the townsfolk began crowding around them, Scout pulled Greg into her side, whipping her head in every direction. Greg, oblivious to the danger, smiled casually. “Oh, are we leaving already?”

“Let’s leave immediately!” Beatrice yelled just before the barn went dark. Someone had shut the doors, trapped them in.

“I’m just trying to get home.” Scout heard Wirt’s shaking voice just before he bumped into her side.

The townsfolk backed the group into a wall of more pumpkin heads and bodies as they whispered out,

“They’re not supposed to be here.”

“Maybe he’s here to steal our crops.”

“To ruin our party.”

“Or take off our pumpkin shoes!” Greg chirped, gesturing to his trapped foot.

Wirt widened his eyes and shook his head. “Uh, no. I, uh-”

A deep voice from above chuckled. “Now, hold on, everybody. Heh. Let’s not jump up to any conclusions.”

It appeared that the tall stringed object had not been an object at all. In fact, it was a body for the most menacing-looking pumpkin-folk in the entire barn. He had to crouch just to peek through the shadows, his face drawn to show a large grin of wide teeth, hollow eyes staring into the souls of the children before him.

Wirt and Scout instantly joined hands out of fear.

“Enoch,” The townsfolk who ratted them out called. “What shall we do with them?”

“Now, let’s see here, children,” Enoch detached two strings from the ceiling to act as his arms. “How’d you end up in this little town of ours?”

In a jumbled mess, Wirt and Scout spoke over each other,

“We needed to get home-”

“We were lost in the woods-”

“Then we saw your farms-”

“And your very interesting houses and thought that this was a normal place to ask for help.”

“And we all stepped on pumpkins!” Greg grinned before Scout shook her head.

“I-I didn’t! I didn’t step on any pumpkins!”

Wirt tightened his hold on her hand. “Yeah! Well… Yeah! A-And then we heard the music from the barn, and well… uh…”

“What if we just left?” Scout tried.

Enoch chuckled yet again, contradicting the very tense atmosphere within the barn. “Now, let me get this straight: you come to our town, you trample our crops, you interrupt our private engagement, and now you wanna leave?”

She blinked. “Well, when you put it like that, it makes us look bad…”

“You’ll never convict! You have no proof!” Greg shouted, almost tripping on the pumpkin his foot resided in.

The same elderly townsfolk walked over to the group, a struggling Beatrice in his hands. “This one’s trying to escape!”

“Let me go!” She cried out. “I don’t know these clowns!”

“Children,” Enoch started. “It saddens me that you don’t wish to stay here with us… particularly because I simply have to punish you for your transgressions.”

“I knew it,” Scout whispered in Wirt’s ear. “I knew they were messed up here.”

Enoch started out his next words in a sing-song tune. “So, by the order of the Pottsfield Chamber of Commerce, I find you guilty of trespassing, destruction of property, disturbing the peace… and murder.”

“Murder?!” The teens shrieked.

“Oh, no, not murder,” Enoch snorted. “But for those other crimes, I sentence you to…”

Scout held her breath.

“A few hours of manual labor.”

And then slowly let it out.

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

“Is that the last of it?” Scout asked after plunging her rake into the ground.

“Yup. That’s all the hay.” Wirt wiped a line of sweat from his forehead. “Guess that means we move onto… picking the pumpkins, right?”

“Girl!” A voice shouted out. The group turned to see a townsfolk walking up to them. “Not so fast, young lady. We need you for a special job.”

Scout and Wirt shared a look. “What… kind of special job?”

“We need a scarecrow. Need someone with nimble fingers. Gather this hay here and follow me.”

“Uh, yes, sir.” Scout quickly dumped the pile of hay into a wheelbarrow and pushed it behind the retreating pumpkin figure. She sent a reassuring smile over her shoulder at her friends. This seemed to almost do the job for Wirt, the poor boy wringing his hands together.

“She’ll be fine…”

After picking pumpkins, loading them onto a wagon, and then being bullied by turkeys (this was specifically Wirt), the group minus Scout was directed to the cornfield, baskets in hand. When approaching the clearing, the three reared back at the horrible figure displayed before them.

Its haunting grin stretched across its straw face, gangly limbs made of hay and straw, the body propped on a wooden pole. The top of its head lay open, some hay trickling from it. Beside the scarecrow was a ladder, now being climbed by Scout, who beamed at the boys and Beatrice. “Hey, there!”

“Whoo, that thing sure is ugly.” Beatrice whistled.

“He’s my pride and joy.”

Wirt wordlessly started picking the corn as Greg ran up to his friend. “Scout! I missed you so much! You missed it! The turkeys took Wirt’s hat right off his head and wore it! You should’ve seen the way Wirt jumped all around to get it-”

“Alright, Greg, that’s enough.” Wirt muttered. When Scout cackled, he snapped his head up to her. “Hey, what’re you laughing at? Your scarecrow’s head isn’t even closed! He looks like… like he’s lost his mind! Ha!”

“Stop worrying about my scarecrow and worry about your corn!” Scout pointed at him just before a stalk of corn Greg let go of had smacked the teen in his face. Wirt cried out and fell onto his back. He turned his head to the side to see Beatrice smirking at him. “Hey, guys?” Scout quietly called.

“Yeah?” Wirt turned to his friend, who stared off in the distance.

“They’re watching us like hawks…”

Once their work in the cornfield was finished, the four were sent to a large mass of empty land. Their only instruction: dig holes. Seeing as Greg was a very young and short-spanned kid, Scout took it upon herself to help the boy dig his hole and Wirt dug his own. “Scout?” Greg quietly called out, slightly winded from the work. “What if we find buried treasure?”

The girl hummed. “You think that’s why they’re having us do this? To find treasure?”

“Could be,” He shrugged before gasping. “Wait, that means we’re doin’ all the hard work and they get the pay!”

“The ways of the world, Gregory.” Scout tapped his nose. “But I’ll let you snag some.”

The two shared a laugh before Scout plunged her shovel into the ground, coming into contact with something. “Oh, hey, I found something!” She gasped.

“Buried treasure! Wirt!” Greg called out, catching the attention of his brother and their bluebird companion. “Scout found buried treasure!”

“Whoa, really?” Wirt awed as Scout ducked down to check what she found. “See, Beatrice? What’d you find, Scout?”

Wirt and Beatrice hadn’t expected to hear the girl’s frightened scream. They both flinched at the sound as Scout’s head popped up. “Greg, don’t touch it! Oh, god, get me out of here!”

“What?! What is it?!” Wirt widened his eyes and watched as Scout scrambled her way out of the hole. Greg smiled and shifted his body to reveal the skeleton laying in the hole.

“A skeleton!”

“Don’t touch it, Greg!” Scout warned. “We don’t know who that is!”

Wirt moved back and cried out in fear as Beatrice raised her brows, slightly amused. “We’re digging our own… I-I-I was wrong. I was wrong all along. I-I don’t know how to get us home. U-Use your little feet to pick our locks!”

“Oh, ho! Now you want my help?” Beatrice sassed.

“I don’t want your help-”

“Yes, he does!” Scout shouted. “Beatrice, please! At least get Greg out first!”

Any other words of plea died on her tongue at the sight of Enoch’s form moving towards them from a distance. Wirt whirled back to Beatrice, terrified. “Yes, she’s right, I want your help! Beatrice, serio-”

“Your time is up!”

“Aah!” Wirt screamed at the whole town who now crowded them once again. Scout sank back down into the hole and pulled Greg close. Shaking in his spot, Wirt stared up at Enoch, who only glanced down at the holes.

“Have the holes been dug?” A townsperson asked.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Splendid! Well, then-”

“But no.”

“No?”

Wirt blinked down at his feet before snapping his head back up to the townsfolk. “Right! Yeah… Uh, you know, we were digging, and there were too many rocks. You guys don’t like rocks, right?”

Scout narrowed her eyes as they all agreed with Wirt. “What is he doing…? We need to get out of here.”

Within the next second, Beatrice flew down into their hole, her foot free of its chain. As Wirt continued to babble, she freed Greg and then Scout, the three (plus the frog) booking it out of Pottsfield. By the time they were back in the woods, Scout’s chest burned and her leg pulsed in pain. Leaning against a tree, she sighed out and scanned the area around her. “W-Where’s Wirt?”

“Uh… Back with the pumpkin people?” Beatrice shrugged.

“What- Why?! Did you free him?!”

“Yes! I don’t know what that fool is doing!”

Scout let out a grunt of frustration. “Okay, okay. Just… watch Greg, don’t move. I’ll be right back!” She turned on her heel and rushed back towards the empty field. Cutting through the grass, she found her friend lying on his side. “Wirt!” She whispered.

He whipped his head to her, eyes wide and angry. “Where the heck did you guys go?!”

“We escaped! Why didn’t you?!”

“You guys just left me!”

Scout rolled her eyes and pulled Wirt to his feet, the boy realizing his ankle was free of its chain all this time. Dumbfounded, he let her lead him back into the woods. When he snapped back into reality, he broke into a sprint, eventually making his way to his brother and Beatrice. Bracing his hands on his knees, he took very deep breaths. “Are they chasing us?”

“No.”

He let out one last breath before standing up straight. “I-I thought you guys-”

“You’re welcome.” Beatrice smiled a bit. Wirt bowed his head.

“Thank you… I guess we’re even now, huh? You aren’t honor-bound to help us anymore?”

“I wish,” She rolled her eyes. “But you weren’t actually in any danger with those weirdos.”

Wirt grinned. “Oh, yeah! Then you still have to help us get home!”

“I got it!” Greg picked up his frog. “I wish Wirt Jr had fingernails so he could play the guitar better!”

A beat of silence passed before a voice cut through, “An odd time to tune in.”

The three turned to Scout, who approached them with a limp. Wirt frowned at this. “You weren’t running with me?”

“No, I told you they weren’t chasing us.”

“O-Oh…”

Beatrice hummed and turned back to Wirt. “So… yeah! I’ll bring you to Adelaide. I mean, that’s where I’m going anyway.”

As they began their journey ahead, Wirt wrapped Scout’s arm around his waist to support her. “Oh, yeah? What’re you going to Adelaide for?” The girl asked with a small smile.

“I guess, in some ways, I’m trying to get home, too.”

“That’s vague,” Wirt tilted his head. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Scout sharply inhaled. “Touchy…”

“Well, I sure hope Adelaide is more helpful than that Woodsman was. I think his directions were… not very good.”

Scout nodded her head in agreement, leaning into Wirt’s shoulder as they continued down the autumn-decorated wood.

—————————————

Taglist: @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 19

Follow this link!

“C’mon Marty, we gotta go.”

The German Shepherd brought the stick he had found back to Mundy and sat down, his eyes pleading. 

“Alright, last throw and then we gotta hit the road otherwise we’ll never get there before the sun sets, ok?”

“Woof!” The dog went to his four paws in a flash and wagged his tail frantically.

“Alright, go!” Mundy threw the stick on the parking lot of the hotel and the dog ran to fetch it. 

“Micky, you’re ready, son?” 

“Yeah, oh, let me help you, Uncle Phil.” Mundy went to his uncle and helped him hop on his seat in the car. 

“Ah, thank you, son, that’s perfect… Thanks.”

“It’s nothin’, here, gimme your cane, I’ll put it behind ya.”

“Micky, you sure you didn’t forget anythin’ in the hotel?” Caroline popped out of reception and into the parking lot.

“I slept in me van, Mum, you should ask Uncle Phil. “

“Phil?”

“Nah, we’re fine, c'mon Carrie!”

“Alright, alright.”

There were another few hours of driving and the landscape changed as the family neared the coast. Mundy followed his mother and uncle driving the car in front of him and soon, Marty became restless on his seat. 

“Recognise the place, mate?”

The dog barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging against the passenger’s seat. He was turning left and right.

“Yeah, you know it, good boy… Oh, that’s where Mum’s parkin’, hm… Guess I'll have to park on the sidewalk… Here… There we go."

A few hours later, all their belongings were moved inside Philip's vacation house. The family had had dinner and Philip was on the sofa, following whatever game was on that night with Marty laying beside him. 

"Thanks for helpin' me with the dishes, Micky." 

Caroline and her son were in the kitchen. She was washing and he was rinsing. 

"You're welcome, Mum."

"I'm sure a few days with the sea breeze will help Phil as much as it will you." She said and Mundy raised an eyebrow. 

"What d'you mean?"

"Y'know…" Caroline cast a glance at the kitchen door and saw that it was open. She quickly rinsed her hands and went to close it before resuming her position next to Mundy. "Your breakup…?" She hesitantly added and Mundy nodded, not because he agreed, but because he remembered. His mother was thinking that the reason why he was avoiding talking about his feelings, was because he had broken up with a woman and his heart was aching...

Well, aching his heart was. 

Not because of a heartbreak, Mundy simply felt like in the end he would be alone because he had nothing to offer, nothing but road trips, hunting animals, people, puttin ghis supposed loved on in danger through that and oh, yeah, a very poor ability to actually talk to people, verbalise what he felt outside of the confines of his own head…

He sighed.

“I don’t wanna pry or anythin’ but uh…” Caroline’s voice pulled the Aussie out of his daydream. “When we were in New Mexico, had you found someone else? I mean, we’ve travelled pretty far and uh…”

“Mum.” Mundy stopped her yet could not look her in the eye. Each time he did, a voice screamed in his head “Liar! Liar! Tell her! Tell her you prefer blokes over sheilas! She doesn’t deserve you lie to her! You’re the worst son she could ever have and it’s all your fault! You’re breaking her heart!”

Mundy screwed his eyes shut and shook his head to shake those thoughts away. 

“No… No I hadn’t, and even if I had, I don’t care.” He put the plate he had in his hand down and left the kitchen. Soon after, Caroline heard the very familiar sound of the van’s engine rumbling away, and sighed. 

The Aussie drove first to let his frustration out, and when it did pass, he started paying attention to his surroundings. It was all new afterall… He realised that it was what all the beach cities must look like: restaurants, nightclubs, theme parks for families. 

Families. 

Huh. Mundy shook his head. He would have loved to have one of his one, someone to go home to, someone to hold, to feel the warmth of. And he had nothing against a sheila and a few kids, he really didn’t. He just had a slight preference for men, that was true; that, and there was the issue with his job too. 

“God damn it…” He sighed.

Being paid to put bullets in things was hard enough on himself, he didn’t want to put that burden on anyone else with him. And sometimes those things weren’t just beasts, they were people too… The truth was that Mundy was a paid killer, a mercenary, jumping from contract to contract. When someone needed some lead in their head, he was called in, and more recently, it was even the officials who called to him for his extraordinary tracking abilities. Mundy could find anyone and anything, as long as it had blood pumping in its veins.

He had thought about quitting, multiple times at that. But then what would he do? Farming with his parents? He was already helping them out from time to time and he didn’t like the idea of taking too much responsibility on the farm. At the end of the day, he didn’t want his parents to think that he wanted to take over, the farm was way too big a responsibility for him, especially alone.

Eventually, Mundy parked somewhere, it was a free parking lot. He lowered his window, just a bit, for some fresh air, and he leaned back on his seat, closing his eyes. He dreamt. He dreamt of a man, the man who will make his days flip upside down, a man who would understand him and somehow, manage to bear him through his muteness, through his silence and hardest of all, through his difficulty to express what he felt. 

Mundy could of course partake in a little exercise of introspection, as he was doing right now; It was practically a compulsory hobby. Anytime he felt low, he would look into himself, as if he didn’t know why, or as if that particular time the answer would be different. Nah, in truth, Mundy just didn’t know what else he could do but think about his misery on his own. The hard part, and the step that he never took was to take everything he knew about himself, about what frustrated him or made him happy, extracting all of that from his insides to bring it outside, for someone to hear. Even his mother was unaware of half the things he was thinking. 

Maybe that was one of the issues he could address as opposed to focusing on dreaming about a man he hadn’t met yet? Maybe that was the “easy” thing to fix and maybe fixing it would bring him some peace?

Mundy opened his eyes and it was night time. He looked around him to see that the city was still busy, even if it was winter now there, the beach still attracted quite a lot of people. 

"Right." He started the engine and headed back home. 

When he entered the house, Marty came to the door to greet him. 

"Hey, Marty, yeah, you're good boy… Oh? Marty, leave my hand alone. Marty-? Alright, alright, I'll follow ya…" 

The German Shepherd led the Aussie to the door of his uncle's bedroom. 

"He must be asleep, Marty, you'll see him tomor-"

"Come in, Micky." Phil said from the inside and Mundy pushed the door. 

"Sorry, Uncle Phil, it's Marty. I don't know why he pulled my hand all the way here."

"It's fine, Micky, I asked him to. Marty, shut the door, boy." 

The dog pushed the door until it clicked shut. 

"He's a very clever dog." Mundy said. 

"Yeah, I got him cause he was too soft to work with us drug sniffin'." 

"Oh, I see." 

"C'mere and have a seat, Micky." Philip was in his bed. He scooted to free some space for Mundy to sit at his side.  “I wanted to have a chat with you, y’know, only men kinda talk…”

The Aussie sighed.

“See? Your Mum’s all worried about ya. Now, I told her you’re one big man and you know what you’re doin’, she shouldn’t meddle in your business.”

"But?" Mundy anticipated. 

"But she told me things, see?"

"What did she tell you?"

"That you got yourself a woman and for some reason, you ain't together anymore, and that's why you're all sad and in your own world." 

"Pfff…" Mundy sighed and shook his head. 

"Now, boy, these things do happen all the time, y'know. It ain't necessarily bad. If anythin', it's better to go each your way if you're not meant together." 

"Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“Believe me, Micky. Besides, young and handsome as you are, I’m sure you’ll find someone else quick enough, eh?”

“Yeah… I wish…”

“Son?” Phil was confused. He expected to see his nephew in a better mood after a little chat, but Mundy looked worse. “What is it…?”

“Nothin’. I’ll let you sleep now, g’night, Uncle Phil.”

And as usual, Mundy disappeared, leaving his uncle confused as to what he was thinking. The Aussie's mind was as impenetrable as Buckingham Palace itself or the White House…

The next morning, Mundy found his mother and his uncle chatting in the kitchen when he woke up. 

"Micky, we were thinkin' of havin' a walk by the beach. Your uncle's physio says it's good for him to walk a bit more now, and we reckon Marty's gonna love it." Caroline said. "You wanna come with us?" 

"Sure. I'll just have some coffee before we go." Mundy took a seat at the breakfast table.

"You wrap your neck in a scarf, yeah?" Caroline poured him some coffee. "It's cold outside. And we should get you a beanie, it's gettin' really cold now." 

"My hat's fine, Mum."

"It's fine until you catch a cold and then who's gonna have to take care of a big baby with a running nose…?" Caroline asked and Mundy smiled. 

"Alright, we'll get some beanies for everyone then." Mundy smiled and took a sip of his coffee. Marty came to the Aussie. "Hey Marty." Mundy patted his head and the dog wagged his tail enthusiastically. 

"Right," Phil said and stood up. "I'll go and put on somethin' decent…"

"I brought your thick winter jacket, Phil, you'll find it in your big bag." Caroline said. 

"Carrie, I'm not yer son!"

"Uncle Phil, don't even try, even Dad can't tell her anythin' about that…" Mundy said. 

"Right, woman, I'll do it your way…" Phil left the kitchen, leaving mother and son alone. 

"I had your dad on the phone yesterday." Caroline said. 

"Oh, how's he doin'?"

"Same old," She answered and finished her coffee. "He's alright, the chickens and geese aren't missin' us too much apparently."

"Is he managin' on his own to take them to the market?" 

"Yeah, he says it's fine. Jimmy comes to lend a hand on the weekends."

"Ah, that's nice of him."

"He sometimes comes after school when he feels like it." Caroline said and Mundy nodded. "His parents encourage him to work with us during the holidays." 

"He's only a kid though, can't have him be there full-time I guess." Mundy said.

"Yeah, nah, you're right. His parents told me he wasn't doing so good at school, so they try to give him a bit of work to do. We talked with them a lot. Jimmy's learnin' fast and he likes it at the farm."

"Wanna hire him when he finishes school?"

"Your dad and I are thinkin' about it." Caroline said and nodded to herself. "We aren't getting any younger and it'd be good to leave the farm to someone… Now, we know you like it but not to the point of workin' full time there."

Mundy lowered his head. 

"Yeah… I wish it was all different." Mundy took the last gulp of his coffee and left, not giving his mother any chance to ask him what he meant. 

The Aussie put some warm clothes on and kept thinking. He wished it was all different. He wished he had been better at school and right now he would have had an office job, nice nine to five kind of routine, a car, a house of his own, a sheila and a few kids… 

He could also have liked farming more, and then he would have taken the responsibility of his parent's farm after them. The business would stay in the family and Mike and Caroline wouldn't feel like a lifelong effort of taking care of chickens and geese went down the drain… 

Mundy could have not preferred men or liked them at all. That way, it would surely have been a thousand times easier to find someone to settle with. He himself was very shy but females sometimes went to talk to him, hit on him even, but men? Never, or so rarely…

"Hm." 

Mundy took Marty's tennis balls with him and went to get the dog on the leash. 

"Marty? C'mere, big boy, we need to put you on the leash."

Marty rose from his bed and trotted to Mundy before he sat down in front of him.

"We're gonna go for a walk, Marty." 

The dog's ears pricked up and his tail wagged faster. 

"Oh, you got that, didn't you? You clever boy…" 

Caroline and Philip joined him in the living-room. 

"You boys have everythin' you need?" 

"Yeah." Both Philip and Mundy agreed. 

"Then let's go." 

They left the house and walked only a few minutes before reaching the sand. 

"You live very close to the beach, Uncle Phil." 

"Yeah, got that house a long time ago. There weren't that many tourists and everything was so much cheaper…!" The old man was holding on to his sister's arm to walk. "Now, everythin's so painfully expensive… Oh, you can get Marty off the leash, let the boy enjoy the beach."

"Sure, c'mere Marty." Mundy took a second to undo the leash and took the tennis ball from his pocket. As soon as the dog saw it, he started barking eagerly. "Alright, alright, catch this!" Mundy threw the ball far away in the sand and Marty ran after it at full speed. 

"He likes the exercise, this dog." Phil said. 

"Course he does." Caroline answered. "Back when the farm was bigger we had a couple of dogs, they kept the chickens safe in the nights. They're very smart, eh." 

"So smart we get them to join the police…!'' Phil answered. "That's what Marty was supposed to do, but even as early as a puppy, he was way too gentle and soft, wasn't bad at the obedience stuff, but no predatory instincts whatsoever in this boy. He could have ended drug sniffin', but he wasn't very enthusiastic about it either, so I took him in."

"You did well." Caroline said and Marty came back with the ball, he gave it to Mundy who threw it away again. 

The three of them were walking in the sand, along the shore. The air was salty with the proximity of the sea and the breeze was icy but through that, they all breathed some better air. Besides, Marty was loving the large space to play fetch. 

"Y'all should come back with Mike in the summer." Phil resumed his speech. "The sun shines beautifully, the water's lovely and this part of the beach isn't as touristy as the rest." 

"And who would take care of the farm?" Caroline asked rhetorically. 

"You could hire up some folks for summer. I'm sure there are plenty of young people who'd be happy to feed chickens and sell them before college starts again." Phil answered. 

"Yeah… We always say we'd do that with Mike but it never happens in the end." 

Marty came back, dropped the ball in Mundy's hand and went to run towards the water. He got his legs wet, jumped on the froth coming to him, trying to bite it, and ran back to Mundy for more playtime. 

"Why'd you never do it?" Phil asked his sister. 

"Cause we have no reason to not take care of the farm… We like it."

"Have you ever been on a holiday, Carrie?" 

"O'course I have!"

"Your honeymoon doesn't count." Phil added and Caroline sighed.

"Phil…"

"You haven't, have you? I'm not judgin', Carrie, just saying. I was like you, eh? No holiday on duty. But now, with my bad leg, I've learnt to take some time off and it's not bad."

"Yeah… I reckon you're right but uh…" 

"Feelin' bad for the chickens and geese?" 

Marty came back again and Mundy threw the ball for him. He then dusted his hands off of the sand and put them in his pockets. 

His parents had never taken a bit of holiday since forever. They cared a lot about their farm and it would surely feel weird for them to stop. Mundy understood it in the sense that if he had been asked to stop hunting completely, he would feel lost. 

Well, he had been asked to stop completely, and multiple times at that. His parents weren't supporting his choice of profession, and Mundy's father grew more and more keen on his son taking over the farm. As Mundy grew into hunting more and more, Mike's frustration with the realisation that his son had other plans than taking the family business grew too. Father and son weren't on the best terms and tried to keep their disagreements away from Caroline, but she was far from stupid and knew that she was the only reason that Mundy and Mike still talked. 

"I'm just sayin', Carrie. If you wanna come back come summer time with Mike and Micky, I can give you the house for a few weeks." Phil went on. 

"That's very nice of you, Phil." Caroline answered. 

Their voices were a blur on which Mundy was writing his thoughts. He took a deep breath of sea breeze and looked around him. There were a few people here and there, a few happy dogs enjoying their outing as much as Marty was. Mundy's eye lingered on the occasional couples. He had passed the age to feel jealousy towards them, or even envy. What he felt was the bitter punch of knowing that there had been no one so far who had made a positive difference to his days, no one with whom he could have a decent bit of conversations, no one who had seen in him more than a hunting vagabond, and a promise for an assorted, nomadic adventure. A trip with a starting line but no arrival.

Mundy sighed. 

Looking back at the past and seeing the emptiness that all of Mundy’s previous encounters left was one thing, the bitterness of it was one thing, but what really hurt was that stubborn glimmer of hope that he could not shake off, however hard he tried. And God knew how he tried, he tried to look at the facts: a man with a man was unthinkable enough, a man with him, the loner, the socially awkward, ever stammering, unable to communicate his feelings to even his mother, a mess of an almost forty-year-old man.

Oh he wished. He wished he could open himself wide open and scoop that hope out of him because in truth, that was what was killing him. That part of him that believed that one day, he would open his van’s door to see a pair of masculine eyes full of love, loving him as much as he did them… 

God, why did he have to bear the double sentence of preferring men over women and hoping to find one…? 

[schrijverr]

Mysterious Friend

Bakugo and Midoriya stayed friends and Midoriya didn't go to UA. While living in the dorms, Bakugo mentions an 'Izuchan' that makes everyone curious until they meet him by accident.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugo had a friend.

He had more than one friend of course and there was nothing wrong with the fact that Bakugo had a friend. It was just that class 1-A didn’t know this friend and their interest had been piqued.

It had mostly been piqued because they hadn’t known about this friend until now, more than half a year later. And they only knew because they had to move into the dorms, which meant that some privacy they had before, was no more.

So they had found out about the friend.

Since as much as Bakugo had apparently tried to hide this friend, he wasn’t willing to give up contact over it and called with the friend regularly.

He hadn’t talked with them just in front of anyone and it was only after a few weeks in the dorms that they first heard the name.

Bakugo was grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, phone held between his shoulder and ear as he listened to what the person on the other side of the line was saying. Most assumed it was one of his parents and left him to it, not wanting to interrupt or listen in.

After he had gotten the glass of water, Bakugo decided he wanted a snack, but not before telling the person on the other side: “Stop muttering, Izuchan. You know I can’t follow you, just fucking tell me about this great discovery like a normal person.”

The room stopped at ‘Izuchan.’ That wasn’t just a nickname, that was a personal and friendly nickname, completely opposite to the ones he had for his classmates. So they stared as Bakugo grabbed a snack while he listened intently.

Then Bakugo laughed, actually honest to god laughed, at something this Izuchan said, before replying: “That’s your revelation? Of course I could beat that motherfucker up.”

After another silence, he said: “You don’t get to tell her I said that! She’ll kill me.”

“What you should tell her? Uhm,” Bakugo thought for a moment, “Tell auntie I considered it before agreeing politely.”

Izuchan said something and he pouted: “She might believe it.”

They could faintly hear laughter over the line, before Bakugo whined: “No, I wanted to ask her to make me curry, she won’t do it if she’s mad at me.”

He nodded at something Izuchan said, then agreed: “You’re right, maybe this whole dorm situation will help me. Does she miss me much? Tell her I said hi, by the way.”

Then he turned and saw some people looking at him, so he lowered the phone for a second and growled: “Oi, I’m not a fucking circus act. It’s rude to stare, you fucking extra’s,” then he said into the phone, “They were being annoying and rude, I’m not overcompensating, Izuchan.”

So yeah, Bakugo had a friend.

A friend they didn’t know of and had never heard more about other than the fact that Bakugo called this friend Izuchan and apparently was more open and fun with this person. And by god if a few people weren’t absolutely curious about this Izuchan.

When Bakugo returned downstairs for dinner, Mina pounced on him first, she had been there for the phone call and she was very curious: “So, who did you have on the line?”

“None of your fucking business, raccoon,” Bakugo scoffed in response.

“Ahw, come on, you can give us more than that,” Mina pouted.

“I could, but it’s none of your business,” Bakugo told her again.

“Mina, you shouldn’t pry, it’s unbecoming of a hero!” Iida jumped in with chopping hands and for once Bakugo was glad for the rule-stickling class president.

“But, Iidaaa,” Mina whined.

“No, leave people their privacy, we already lost so much,” Iida said and Mina backed off, knowing when to stop.

That didn’t mean she let it go completely, nor a few others. Kirishima was all for respecting others and their privacy, but he felt a bit weird knowing that one of his best friends hadn’t trusted him with the fact that he had more friends outside of school.

It was a strange thing to keep secret.

So, a few days later he asked: “What are you doing on the weekend. Heard you got permission to go home. Visiting anyone?”

Bakugo looked at him suspiciously, before shrugging: “Mostly seeing my mom and dad and eating some curry.”

“Oh, yeah, Mina said you mentioned curry on the phone,” Kirishima commented, he didn’t want to, but in his curiosity it slipped out, so at Bakugo’s look, he immediately added, “Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bakugo sighed, “I just don’t know why everyone thinks it’s such a big deal. Mina pestered me in the hallways again and Kaminari during lunch. I’m not going around asking them every detail about their life.”

“To be honest, I don’t think you know stuff even if they have told you,” Kirishima said, “You didn’t know Uraraka’s name during the sports festival and you fought her before.”

He made a ‘that’s fair’-face, then said: “Yeah, but I don’t get why they want to know.”

“You’re just so grumpy all the time, bro. I don’t mean that in a bad way, but you can be a bit stand-off-ish and I think most of us are just surprised you never mentioned this person.”

“I don’t have to if I don’t want to, dumbass.”

“You don’t, you don’t,” Kirishima quickly assured him, already regretting starting this conversation in the first place, “But you can’t blame people for being curious.”

“I suppose,” and that was the end of the conversation, because Bakugo moved on to the Hero Training lesson they’d had today.

He left for the weekend and never said anything beyond ‘it was fine’ whenever someone asked how his weekend had been.

So, people let it go.

Sure, they were curious and wanted to know who the person was that Bakugo was trying to hide from them, but he obviously didn’t want to tell him and they weren’t getting on his good side by asking. So, better to let things be.

Well, until they overheard Bakugo talk to Izuchan again a few weeks later. He was walking to his room when his phone went, he looked to his screen before sighing and picking up: “What happened, nerd? I am not bailing you out again, Izuchan.”

If it had been anything other than that, class 1-A would have let it go again, but this just made them wonder about so many things that it was impossible to not be curious again.

Who was this Izuchan?

Bakugo then replied to Izuchan: “It’s not that weird that I thought that. So why are you suddenly calling me? Not that I don’t appreciate it.”

And who was this polite Bakugo?

“You got what?” Bakugo’s voice went a bit shrill, “Are you okay? Did you contact auntie? Or my mom or dad at least? Or the fucking police? An ambulance maybe? What’s fucking wrong with you?”

Everyone startled at the sudden change of tone and Kirishima asked: “Is everything alright, bro?”

Bakugo now seemed to notice the audience and held up a finger while he listened to whatever he was being told over the phone. He sighed in relief, before saying: “You had me worried there you dick, you don’t get to tell me you were attacked when it was just that.”

There is a short silence, then Bakugo huffed: “No, a goose doesn’t count, no matter how terrifying they are, now wait a moment while I tell these idiots that you’re fine, fucking hell.”

He turned to the class, who was waiting with curious gazes, and told them: “Izuchan’s fine, he got attacked by a goose in the park and decided to be a dramatic bitch about it. He’s stupid as fuck, don’t mind him. Shows over.”

That did little to explain the enigma that was this Izuchan, but did calm the class slightly after the outburst just then.

Izuchan apparently said something again, because Bakugo rolled his eyes: “Yeah, yeah, whatever, you nerd. I’ll talk to you later, when I’m not pissed at you for giving me a heart attack, okay. You know you can’t joke about that shit.”

A silence.

“No, I don’t care how much you thought you were going to die, geese are not emergency material and I will kick you the next time I see you. Also call auntie if it actually bit you, that needs to be disinfected.”

Izuchan probably pouted something, because Bakugo laughed and said: “I still hate you, bye,” before he hung up.

“So your friend is okay?” Iida asked after a moment of quiet.

“Yeah, yeah, he is,” Bakugo sighed, “There is nothing wrong with him, physically at least, he is fucking stupid, but that’s permanent and he’s always been like that.”

“Don’t be mean, Bakugo,” Kirishima grinned, knowing his friend wouldn’t listen.

“I’m not mean, if you’d met him, you would agree.”

Kirishima raised a brow and Bakugo added: “Which you will not, so just take my word for it.”

“Not cool, bro. I wanna meet him, I don’t get why you’re so mysterious about this, it’s literally killing me and making me more curious.”

Bakugo shrugged: “Not my problem,” then walked off. He didn’t want them to meet Izuchan for the simple reason that he couldn't help but be soft around the nerd and he had a reputation to maintain. That and he also had trouble sharing Izuchan’s attention and a small petty part didn’t want his best friend to like his other friends better than him.

So, he kept his mouth shut about Izuchan and lived his life.

He slipped up one other time when he was calling with his mother. He knew some had been watching his phone calls like hawks and he found those extra’s mildly annoying, so he’d kept most of his calls to his room, but he thought his mother would be safe.

But apparently not.

“Inko and Izuku are visiting right now,” she told him, “They miss you brat, wanna say hi?”

“What do you mean auntie and Izuchan are visiting, old hag? You guys having Friday dinners without me, ey?” he frowned, “And of course I wanna say hi.”

The Friday dinners had become a bit of a tradition, reprieving busy parents from cooking once every two weeks while maintaining college contacts and having a fun play date for their kids.

Izuchan’s voice came over the line: “Hi, Kacchan! Sorry that we’re eating without you, it’s less fun, but you’re here in spirit.”

He just knew the little shit would be smiling all sweet, so he grumbled: “In spirit my ass, you’re just eating my food.”

“Actually I’m eating my food,” Izuchan corrected, “I learned how to make katsudon, so I cooked. You don’t have anything on me.”

“You did?” Bakugo exclaimed in surprise, he vividly remembered the pancake incident.

“Yeah, I did. I’m not that horrid of a cook, you know,” Izuchan pouted.

“Tell that to the kitchen you almost burned down and the apartment complex that had to evacuate, Izuchan,” Bakugo grinned.

“So mean, Kacchan.”

“Aim to please,” Bakugo rolled his eyes with a smirk, then there was some shuffling on the other line and he faintly heard Izuchan: “I’m not hogging the line, mom,” before Inko greeted him: “Hi, Katsuki, is school okay? Are you eating well?”

“Hi auntie,” he replied fondly, “School’s fine and unlike your offspring I know how to cook. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“He is getting better, he made us kastudon,” she told him.

“So he said, but you don’t have to lie to me. Is it edible?” he grinned.

Izuchan yelled: “It was perfectly fine, Kacchan. Mom, tell him it was okay.”

“I mean…” Inko decided to mess with Izuchan, who guffawed loudly, making Bakugo laugh as Inko amended her hesitation and praising her son’s cooking.

Then the phone was commandeered back by his mother, who said: “And that was enough harassment from my brat. Do your best out there, we’ll see you next weekend.”

“Bye old hag, say bye to the others.”

“I will,” and then she hung up.

When he looked up from his goodbye, he came face to face with Mina, who was leaning on the back of the couch. She asked: “Izuchan?”

Hearing her say his nickname for his favourite nerd, snapped something in Bakugo, who growled: “His name is Midoriya to you.”

“Touchy, touchy” Mina tutted. “So, Midoriya?” she repeated her question, mocking him when she said the name with an eyeroll.

Bakugo huffed and stomped off, not willing to deal with that or talk about it ever again.

Sadly, nothing turned out someone planned and no one could plan for every surprise there was, so despite his best efforts Izuchan met his classmates by chance.

It happened when Bakugo got injured in class. This was not an uncommon occurrence, but since he’d been hit in the head, which could have lasting damage his emergency contact had to be informed of the injury.

This in itself wasn’t that big of a deal, but it just so happened that his parents were away on a fashion show in Milan and Inko wasn’t allowed to take calls at her job, so for the time being Izuchan was the one who would be called for him.

Bakugo was completely fine and had already been healed by Recovery Girl and stormed out when she was done, but he hadn’t been when Aizawa called his emergency contact, quite baffled by the young anxious voice that had picked up.

Because Midoriya was a nervous person overall, hearing that his best friend had been injured to the point of unconsciousness, made him spiral and demand he could see him in a fit of concerned bravery.

UA wasn’t about to wave off demands from the relations to the students that had managed to get kidnapped under their watch, so Aizawa agreed to meet Midoriya at the gate.

“Midoriya Izuku?” he asked.

“Ah, uhm, yes, we spoke on the phone,” the young boy said, “It’s an honor to meet you Mr. Eraser Head, big fan.”

Aizawa wasn’t aware he had fans as an underground hero, so he just thanked the kid awkwardly, before he moved on: “Bakugo is at the dorms, he got up pretty soon after we called.”

“That’s a relief,” Midoriya smiled, still nervous around the edges.

Meanwhile in the dorm Bakugo was scowling at everyone and telling them that he was ‘perfectly fine now fuck off, tapeface’ when the door suddenly opened and a familiar voice yelled: “Kacchan!”

He looked up and there was Izuchan, already rushing towards him as he said: “You’re alive, oh my god you had me so worried, Kacchan.”

Izuchan took his face between his hands, trying to find a wound already gone as the rest of the class watched, completely baffled Bakugo was pushing this stranger off.

“You pinky promised me, you wouldn’t get yourself badly hurt, Kacchan. You know how worried I get, where did you get hit. God, they told me you were unconscious,” Izuchan rambled on.

“Izuchan. Izuchan, I’m fine. It’s already gone, it healed,” he assured his friend, then frowned, “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Do you have amnesia? Who is your favourite hero? How many fingers am I holding up?” Izuchan asked, “Do you know who your parents are?”

“Oh, the fashion show, slipped my mind,” Bakugo remembered, “And stop being so concerned, nerd. Also you promised you wouldn’t get arrested anymore and you almost did last weekend, so stop getting on my dick about one little head injury.”

“Key word being almost, Kacchan. Besides, a head injuriescan be very serious. You could have been hurt, like badly.”

“Well, I’m not, so you can stop being an idiot, I’m fine, promise.”

“Pinky promise?” Izuchan held up his pinky with those big eyes, he knew Bakugo couldn't say no to.

Bakugo sighed and interlocked their pinkies, he was very aware of his entire class behind Izuchan watching them with big eyes. They were about to explode, he just knew it. He mumbled: “Pinky promise, Izuchan.”

Then Izuchan smiled for real and it made Bakugo feel infinitely better about the whole situation… until the whole class finally burst into chaos.

“You’re Izuchan?”

“Bakubro, your friend is so manly!”

“Ahw, he’s so cute!”

“Not at all what I pictured, kero…”

“Bakugo is so nice to him.”

Midoriya got completely overwhelmed by the wall of sound and looked at them with big eyes until Bakugo yelled: “Stop scaring him, you fucking extra’s.”

That send Midoriya into scolding as he berated Bakugo: “You told me you were gonna stop calling people extra’s, I know you know all their names. Stop overcompensating.”

“I’m not overcompensating,” Bakugo protested and Midoriya just send him an unimpressed look, so Bakugo pouted and looked away.

Then Midoriya got off the couch and bowed: “Sorry for my manners. I’m Midoriya Izuku, pleasure to meet you all. I’ve heard great things from Kacchan!” and then he send them his biggest smile that melted everyone’s hearts.

They all introduced themselves while Bakugo pouted in the background. He wasn’t going to deprive his friend of a fun interaction – god knew he needed it – but he was a bit sour how quickly he’d lost his attention.

Kirishima asked: “How long have you know Bakugo? He never said anything about you and wouldn’t tell us why.”

“Oh, we’ve known each other all our lives. Our mums were friends in college,” Midoriya said, “He is a right softie, always protected me from the bullies on the playground. As for why he never talked about me, I can hazard a guess.”

At that Bakugo’s head whipped up, he had told Izuchan his reason and he couldn't believe his friend was about to expose him like that.

“Really?” Mina leaned in with curious eyes, she was delighted that the mystery himself had showed up and was hungry for information.

“Yeah, really,” Midoriya smirked in Bakugo’s reaction who was gesturing for him to cut it off, but why would he? “He thinks he has a tough man reputation, but I know that he cried during the All Might cartoons and that auntie still makes a food face on his ramen when he visits during the weekend.”

Mina giggled and more followed, while Bakugo had enough and tackled Midoriya with a blush, covering his friend’s mouth as he said: “That’s fucking enough, Izuchan. I still have pictures of you at the police station for auntie, so you watch out.”

Midoriya blanched and muffledly promised he was going to shut up now.

“Why were you arrested?” Mina asked, she liked this Izuchan.

He blushed and Bakugo smirked: “Yeah, Izuchan, why were you arrested?”

“Well, uhm, according to the police someone made a noise complaint about me and then I refused to cooperate during my arrest, but in my defense, it is really hard to cooperate when you have chained yourself to a tree,” Midoriya said.

“Chained… to a tree…?” Jiro repeated.

“Yeah, they were going to cut it down, but a few birds had built a little nest in it, so I couldn't let them do it and I had seen others protesting like that online, but I didn’t keep the key on me, while the police officers thought I did. It was really just a big misunderstanding,” he explained.

Bakugo chimed in: “The tree did stay up.”

“That it did,” Midoriya agreed proudly.

Before the class could question Midoriya again, Aizawa stepped in: “While it’s good to see you all get along, we have a time-limit to outside visitors, which is currently running out.”

Midoriya and Bakugo gave each other sad eyes and – surprising everyone except Midoriya – Bakugo pulled his friend into a big hug and whispered: “Thanks for coming to check up on me, Izuchan.”

“Always, Kacchan,” Midoriya promised and Bakugo knew from experience how much the other meant it.

“Say hi to auntie for me,” he told him.

“Of course, Kacchan. Try to keep your promise.”

“Only if you keep yours, shitty nerd.”

“I will. Bye bye! Nice to meet you, everyone.”

“Bye, Midoriya.”

“Bye, Izuchan!”

Then the kid was lead away by Aizawa, while he kept waving for as long as he could, Bakugo doing the same.

Once he was out of sight, Bakugo grinned: “I can’t believe the idiot still doesn’t know auntie already heard he was arrested, but the blackmail is nice.”

“That’s a bit mean against your friend,” Mina said.

“Do you have any idea how long Izuchan has been building a collection of blackmail against me, raccoon? Do you have any idea how much power he holds in his grubby little hands?” Bakugo shot back, shuddering at the thought.

Kirishima said: “He’s great, I hope we’ll meet him again.”

“Yeah,” Sero agreed, thinking off all the stories Midoriya could tell them.

“Oh, you will, he won’t let just anything stop him,” Bakugo grinned, remembering of all the plans Izuchan still had. All the things the nerd wanted to accomplish. Yeah, this wasn’t the last time they were going to see him, just maybe a first taste.

[knollridge]

A Walk in the Park

Smosh

Damien x Reader

1,355 wordcount

This is my first attempt at writing fic!! I’ve been watching HELLA Smosh lately and have fallen in love with all the beauties there, but have a special spot for Damien 😌 If you have a comment you’d like to share, pls do! I know my dialogue, and probably a lot of other things, needs work 😅

No warnings, just a super fluffy asking-out fic. Maybe I should mention that you’ve been lightly flirting around the Smoffice? Since I don’t think that’s 100% perfectly clear below

Enjoy!!!!!!!!!

——————————————————————————

It wasn’t exactly an ideal day to be out. Overcast with the humidity of rain to come, soft petrichor was one of the the only things grounding your senses to the now. Opening your phone, you check the time in front of the park entrance.

2:30, you think. On the dot. You further search your phone’s screen. No texts.

There isn’t much else going through your mind but the anticipatory bubbles of anxiety rising up from your stomach. You’re on time and you’ve never known Damien to not be on time, so there wasn’t much to worry about right?

Oh, but there’s so much to worry about.

It had only been a week since you both auspiciously stayed late for work and got into arguably the most fun and in depth conversation either of you had had in a while. Your ears ring with snippets of it, as you replay the night’s events over in your head.

——————————————————————————

“...but yeah (y/n), that’s so unbelievably cool that you really seem to have found your place here with us.” Damien beams in admiration as you finish organizing your desk for tomorrow’s chaos of table reads, editing, and shoots. You can’t help but smile. He adds, in a low voice, “It’s almost kinda perfect, now that you’re here.” He looks away, turning toward his own stack of scripts and idly pushing them about his desk in an effort to distract himself.

You jokingly laugh, “almost kinda perfect huh? Are you telling me I don’t make it actually 100% perfect?” Your amused laugh is immediately the center of his gaze. He relaxes into a chuckle as well as you take the opportunity to go on. “Oh! I know what would make it better: if The Geese™ had free range of the office, huh? Yeah?” you tease, as you lightly jab him with your elbow. Having a desk next to one of your quickest, and now closest, Smosh friends was an amazing job perk. It did make it near unbearable to not be distracted simply by turning your head slightly to the right during the day, though.

Damien takes your jabs in stride and laughs as he lowers your elbow away from his body. “No, no. While that would actually be awesome, that’s not it.” His hands linger on your arm and you feel a fire catching under them on your skin. You pull away with as much grace as you can muster.

“Well, what is it then? Enlighten me please.” You implore him as if he were royalty, hoping the severity of emotion you felt for him was masked by what you hoped passed off as a continuing joke.

“Well....” Damien looks you fully in the face. You look back up at him and try to absorb the meaning coming from those beautiful, brown, puppy eyes. His face is damn near contorted with some elusive emotion you want to understand, but are too scared to pursue. His dark brows are raised, as if to pose a question and his lips are ever so slightly open, as if the question should have already left. You take a hint of a second to notice how his stubble is coming in on his jawline and above his lip before snapping back to assess his earnest and reflective eyes. His whole face suddenly shuts down as he looks away toward his desk again. Incredulous and internally screaming, you instinctively place a hand on his arm. You don’t want to read into it too much but you know above all else, you want to help.

“Oh, I see.” You state, matter-of-factly. “You think there should be more benches to lay down and nap on during the day.” Your words come together like you’ve finally pieced some elaborate puzzle together. You loosen up at your assessment of the situation and flash Damien a broad smile. “And you know what? I second you on that, there should be mandatory siesta time every single day. We could take ours right now!” There’s a reason you don’t write bits or jokes, but you’re committed to this one in hopes that you can release Damien from whatever hell just overcame him. You wrap your hand around his arm and guide him to the fabric-padded benches behind your desks. You dramatically plop down to keep the show going and gently pull his arm to motion him to sit next to you. “Isn’t this better?” You sigh happily. You worry you’ve been clinging to him too long but he seemed to melt into your touch as you timidly place your head on his shoulder. Feeling his muscular upper arm was a heaven in itself. You begin to gingerly stroke it with your thumb, absentmindedly.

“Much better,” he muses. Damien rests his head on top of yours and you can feel his soft, brown hair resting on your curls. “This all the time would make it better. 100% perfect.”

“This?” you ask, almost naively. Disrupting your position, you look up at him, asking the question again with your eyes and wondering if “this” is what he was asking with his just moments ago.

“Oh, absolutely.” Damien smiles out of the corner of his mouth. “....and...if you wanna meet me at the park Friday afternoon I think “this” could keep going.” You narrowly caught his quickly spilled words and your face went from pleading to wide-eyed amusement and shock. You don’t know if he can see it, but your cheeks are set aflame. Who knew he could be this smooth?? You playfully push him away while maintaining a wonder-stricken gaze.

“Damien!!” you’re unable to let any other words come out of your mouth. You see him buckle under false pretenses as he tries to begin again.

“Well, I mean- I mean if you would like to...” he chooses his words carefully, “...I would really, really enjoy going to the park with you and spending the day together.” His smile blossoms, if a bit uneasily under the pressure, and you can’t help but let out a big, awkward honk of a laugh. This sends you both spiraling into a small fit of laughter, made worse by the extreme feelings plaguing this end of the conversation. You both finally compose yourselves and you return a hand to Damien’s forearm.

“I cannot believe you’re asking me out!! This is so surreal, I’ve had a crush on you since I started here!”

Damien’s chagrin at the first exclamation was immediately remedied to relief at the second. “I’ve had a massive crush on you too and, honestly truly I would love to take you out if you...want to...also go out with me.” He places a hand over yours, on top of his forearm, and asks the question with eyes you could answer again and again. You look away for a second to compose yourself. Reluctantly meeting his eye line again, you have to take a deep breath before continuing,

“Oh Damien I would love to.” Your smile knows no bounds and your heart couldn’t beat faster than this moment right.......

——————————————————————————

Now.

You look up the street and see Damien wave before he gets the OK from the light to cross over. He does a half-jog in one of his classic jacket/hoodie combos, a dark-colored and long-sleeved Henley tee, fitting jeans, and shoes you don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear before. His smile grows as he gets closer and you can’t begin to contain yours as he approaches.

“Hey (y/n)!” Damien says excitedly. He surprises you by pulling you into a hug. All of the nervousness you had prior quickly melts away as you’re held in the warmth of his embrace. You snuggle further into his neck and breathe in a mixture of cologne and peppermint. You both hold each other in a savored moment of feeling so lucky that you even got to this point. He breathes out a soft laugh as he positions himself to look at you before you start your trek of the park. “This. This makes it actually, 100% perfect.” You playfully roll your eyes and smile widely at how disgustingly and actually perfect this is. You take his hand and you both start off on a wonderful conversation as you take your walk in the park.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Disaster Lads: A Collab, Part One

This is part one of a five-part collab piece I did with @whumpiary! In which our disaster lads meet and the inevitable ensues. 

CW: Referenced drugging, forced drinking, referenced past noncon, some dubcon fuckiness and trauma response headspace. Things get darker as we go, and more explicit, too. But also Kauri flirts and it’s adorable. Just a fair warning. I’ll do warnings for each individual chapter as we go.

Tagging Kauri’s crew:  @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

Kauri isn’t entirely sure how it happened, but somehow his back is against a wall, a drink is in his hand, and there’s a man leaning over him with that grin on his face that Kauri usually likes… but today, he doesn’t.

The bar is kind of dark, and there’s a band playing something that mostly sounds like sad yelling over geese honking to Kauri, but everyone had cheered when the band came onstage so maybe he just doesn’t get the music. He’s not even dressed for the bar, honestly - he’s in his big black zip-up sweatshirt, Dustin’s so it hangs off his shoulders and his hands are mostly covered by the sleeves. A thin thrift-store t-shirt and ripped-up black skinny jeans, the faded old checkered slip-on sneakers he’s had forever… he looks halfway homeless.

The guy has him cornered anyway, and Kauri is feeling all the other drinks he’s let guys buy him tonight, kind of spinning and silly with the alcohol in his veins. It makes it easier not to feel uncomfortable, but part of him is. 

He wants to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Come on,” The guy says, leaning over him - it feels like looming - and pushing even closer into his space. “I bought you the drink, the least you could do is a little something for me in return.”

I don’t want to, Kauri thinks in something like a panicked wail.

The man’s knuckles brush the side of his throat and it’s probably a flirtation but Kauri thinks of Owen’s hands around his neck - it feels like a threat.

“Wh-what… what did you have in mind?” Kauri’s voice is airy, a little breathless. His heart is pounding, his face is flushed, and maybe he looks into this… but he’s not. But it kind of seems like the guy maybe knows and doesn’t care.

“A lot of shit, honestly, you’ve been on my radar a while, but first… let’s start with you finishing that drink.” He reaches out and takes the glass out of Kauri’s hand, raising it to his lips. The first sip of syrupy-sweet cocktail seems more like liquid ash on Kauri’s tongue. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”

“Am… am I?” He asks when the man lets him stop drinking. “I, I don’t want-”

“Have another drink,” The man interrupts, and pushes the rim of the glass against his lips again.

Cass had been watching the guy with the curly hair and the cute smile on and off all night. Partly because he's pretty. Partly because he looks like he’s dressed for a soup kitchen rather than a bar. But mostly because he looks familiar. Annoyingly familiar, in a way that’s maybe more significant than ‘hey didn’t we fuck in a bathroom stall one time?’. 

The girl Cass has been chatting to is very, very, very boring. Stupidly boring. So it’s ridiculously easy to focus his attention just over her shoulder at Curly Hair and the guy who’s got him pressed against the wall in the corner, and the pink drink that’s being held up between them, fed to the shorter of the two like it's the holy fucking grail.

Desires are sticky. Syrupy. And in a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, revulsion is bitter and obvious. Like whiskey in apple juice. Like smoke under perfume.

Cass wishes he'd had more to drink. A couple more vodka tonics and he'd probably refuse to give a shit. But he's annoyingly sober, and he can't help but notice Curly Hair sort of glance around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.

Cass watches as he smiles, tilts his head. Cass' stomach lurches. He's seen that head tilt. Fuck, Cass has given that head tilt. I want you to want me but I don't want this.

“Hey Kirsty," he says, serving a grin to the blonde next to him. She frowns. 

“It’s Kristie.”

“Right. Kristie,” Cass says. Easy smile, a finger tracing circles on the back of her hand. “You wanna go dance? I’ll catch up in a sec”

The girl pouts, grabbing his hand, “Aren’t you gonna come? I kinda thou-”

“Kʀɪsᴛɪᴇ, ɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ.”

The girl's frown melts into a grin faster than she can notice what’s happening and nods her head enthusiastically, like dancing had been her idea in the first place. And then she’s gone, melted into the pulsing mass of bodies. 

Cass needs to get out of here. In a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, the feeling of I don’t want this is so loud and grating it makes Cass’ heart catch in his throat. And then there’s the other guy. Cass can feel the fucking lust pouring off of the guy. Not just the desire for an easy lay but the absolute exhilaration of a predator who’s got dinner trapped. Or is about to, Cass thinks, eyes following the asshole’s gaze to where they're fixated on a sickening cocktail he’s feeding the smaller guy.

Cass pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid because he promised Lou he wouldn't pick anymore fights and because this is none of his business and just because the guy seems familiar doesn't mean Cass knows him but he still finds himself snaking to the corner, anyway, grabbing the tall guy by the elbow- 

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he says, feigning rapt enthusiasm.

The taller guy looks Cass up and down. His hair is annoyingly perfect. Like if you tapped it, maybe it'd make a sound like knocking on hard plastic.

“I don’t think so,” the guy says, shark teeth twisted into a grin. Cass watches as his grip tightens minutely on the glass he’s holding. Yeah, fuckhead. Wouldn’t want to lose that, now would we?  “If you don’t mind, we’re kinda busy.”

And he's turning back to Curly Hair, who is melting into the wall, a skittish mess of maybe he’ll talk to the new guy - if it’s what you want then I want it - I don't want this - just say no kauri you can just say no - I want this I want you - just say no stop it stop - no just drink it don’t make him mad - I don't want this and Cass really fucking wishes he'd had another few drinks because then he could just walk away, but instead he hits the cocktail careening out of Tall Guy's hand, a spectacular pink mess over the guy's crisp white shit.

Kauri flinches back, hands up over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Shit, dude. Sorry. I'm such a klutz," Cass grins, holding up innocent hands with a shrug. "That roofie wasn't expensive or anything, was it?"

And sure, maybe this was none of his business, but it's so satisfying when the guy shoves him into the wall. Maybe even more satisfying than the sound of the crunch of the guy's nose breaking as Cass headbutts him in the face.

The guy stumbles back, hands over his nose as blood starts to pour, screaming half-formed curse words that are muffled by his hand and the nasal sound of his voice. From behind the bar, a bartender yells, “God damn it, no fighting! What the fuck, Kauri?!”

Kauri curls back against the wall, his wide, frightened eyes going from the bloody pink-stained man to the new guy who had hit him with his whole entire head and back again. “I’m sorry!” He shouts back to the bartender. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

“Yeah, well, do something about it!”

Kauri gives the bartender a look of incredulous terror. He’s 5’7” and all lithe, willowy flexibility and he has the brute fighting strength of a very small kitten.

“Like what, exactly?!”

The guy drops his hand - the bottom half of his face is a mess of blood now - and with a snarl, pulls his fist back to punch Cass again. 

“Stop them fighting over your dumb hot ass or I’m calling the cops, Kauri!”

The name sticks in Cass' head as he lets the guy land another punch, hard on his cheek.

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ɢʀᴀʙ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍ," he says, on impulse, because the guy is kinda huge and Cass isn’t particularly strong, and he’s been in plenty of fights but he usually only stops them by not really being conscious anymore. 

Kauri’s hands snap out thoughtlessly, grabbing the guy’s other arm and helping Cass shove him face-first against the wall, only to freeze up, eyes widening even more in terror as he has no idea why he just did that. 

"You better calm the fuck down, man," Cass says, twisting the guy’s wrist so it twinges just a little behind him. He feels amped up and shaky with adrenaline. He hopes he looks as feral as he feels. The big guy blinks, slow and stupid as he tries to catch up with what just happened. "'Cause either I'm gonna kill you or the bar staff are gonna call the cops on your ass. And we both know what they're gonna find in that glass.”

The guy's eyes widen in shock, then narrow. “You can’t prove-”

“You roofied me?” Kauri asks, as though the multiple comments Cass had made had only just sunk into his mind. He felt himself reel with horror, trying to pull away, but his hands just… don’t want to let go of the man’s arm. Panic was a drumbeat in his mind. He knows what roofies are, Nat told him about those, and that they taste kind of salty but there was a salt rim on the drink the guy bought him-

“You were going to roofie me?”

“That jackass broke my nose!” The guy yells, although it comes out more like dat jackash boke by dose. Cass kind of wants to interject that he probably didn't break the guys nose, but it doesn't really seem like the time. “I’ve been talking to you all night and you just believe some asshole that walks up and punches a stranger?”

“I… I…” Kauri cringes back from the fury in the man’s voice. He’s going to be hurt, and he’s terrified, and the only thing on earth he wants right now is to get out of here and away before the man’s hands are around his neck just like Owen’s, it’ll be like that, he’ll hurt and hurt and then pass out and if he can just maybe make nice the guy will stop being angry-

“I, I’m sorry, you-... you did buy me the drink, that was… that was nice… but, but if he saw you-"

"He didn't see shit." 

The guy did not seem to realize that that wasn't exactly denying he'd done it. 

Cass feels cold fury run through him. He can feel the lust-turned-sour, good-night-wasted annoyance that the guy in front of him is vibrating with. And the panic pouring off of Kauri, so palpable and crystalline it may as well be his own. The want to run away, to get out of here, to back down, to apologise, make nice. They mingle together in his head.

Who the fuck tries makes nice with the asshole who was gonna drug them? He tries to ignore the ‘you sure used to’ that creeps into his head.

Cass doesn't care. He wants to run away and he wants to get out of here but more than that he wants to make someone bleed. This guy walked into the bar tonight, sought out the most vulnerable guy he could find and thought prey. He deserves to know what that feels like. He flips the guy around, pressing a hard hand to his chest to keep him flush to the wall.

“I think I’m gonna call you Scooter,” Cass says “You look like a Scooter”

“The name’s Matt, jackass,” the guy growls. It takes way too much effort to pronounce the M. Cass grins. Matt, huh?

"Alright, Mᴀᴛᴛ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ G ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ. Gɪᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴀ ʟᴏ��ᴋ,” he says. The guy blinks, reaches mindlessly into the pocket of the shitty jeans he’s wearing and pulls out a nondescript little bottle. Matt is staring at the drugs like he can’t imagine how they possibly got into his hand. Cass grins. It’s nice to stare at a predator and make them feel small. "I think he should have to drink it. What do you think, Kauri?"

"Jesus Christ," Matt says, nasally and strangled. "Why did... What the fuck, I should knock your teeth out!"

Kauri grabs the pill bottle out of his hand and tries, despite his hands shaking so badly the fucking bottle rattles, to look like he's reading, carefully keeping his eyes unfocused so they won't try to settle on or understand the letters. Kauri steps closer to them both, putting his hands up slowly, like a man being held hostage. 

"Look, you guys, we can just… nobody has to fight," He says, pitching his voice lower, cocking his head just a little to the side. "The bouncers are gonna kick us all out in a second and, and I don't need-... We don't need that, right? Matt? We don't need to, to have anybody closer than this. Just us, right?"

His heart hammers, heartbeat so strong it's nearly knocking the breath out of him. His voice is airy, and soft, and just a little flirty under the fear.  

You can fix this. No one calls the cops, no one tells, no one looks too close.

"You didn't n-need that, I'd have… have gone with you anyway, Matt…"

Kauri, you can't say yes if you don't know how to say no. He ignores Nat's strident voice in his head and slides just a little closer, the rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes the only giveaway of his fear. He can see bouncers and he has to make this better before too many people are looking at them. 

Matt snorts a kind of bitter, angry laughter, then winces as that burns his injured nose. "You would. The ones like you always do, right?" 

Kauri freezes, all the color draining out of his face. The bottle of pills drops to the floor and rolls away, kicked by someone walking by and getting lost somewhere in the crowd. "What?" 

"Tell your fucking White Knight to fuck off," Matt says reaching out to grab Kauri's left wrist. "Kauri Grant."

Cass doesn't have time to figure out why the fuck that name sounds so familiar. All he needs to know what's happening is in that look on Kauri's face. He's seen that look. God, he's given that look. Whoever Kauri Grant is, he needs to be the hell away from here. Now.

"Okay, seriously buddy, we don't want anymore trouble," he tries, taking a quick glance at the bouncers closing in behind them "How about you let this go and we do too?"

"I'm not letting go of shit," says Matt, with a smile full of blood. He has one hand locked over Kauri's wrist, pushing up against the leather bracelet there. "Do you have any idea how much this little whore is worth?"

Cass swings the punch before he even has the chance to think what that could mean. Which is maybe not a great move, actually, with bouncers headed their way and a bar full of patrons who are starting to look over. It's especially not a great move because Matt swivels, jerking out of the way, sending Cass' fist straight into the side of Kauri's skull. 

Kauri's world crashes at the impact, stumbling back and falling hard onto his side on the floor, head bouncing against the sticky woodgrain, blinking against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. 

It doesn't stop the panic. 

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

"Y-you can't," he tries, his voice sounding weird and off to his own ears, pushing himself up. "Can't, can't turn me in-"

"I wasn't going to, before that little shit showed up," Matt says with a nasty note of triumph in his voice, one Kauri knows too well. "The guy who just hit you."

Kauri manages to stand up, catching the bouncers too close, too close, and he grabs onto Cass's arm. "He was… was trying to hit you," Kauri says, voice shaking. "And you-... tried to drug me."

"Like no one's ever drugged you before," Matt sneers, and Kauri swallows, hard, and doesn't protest. Matt waves at the bouncers. "Hey! This is Kauri Grant!"

The frozen fear in Kauri thaws and he jerks at Cass's arm to yank him not towards the door but deeper into the bar, pushing through the crowd towards the other side of the stage. 

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

Cass knows that name, why does he know that name?

It doesn't matter. What matters is they get the hell away from here right now. He turns in Kauri's grip to look over his shoulder, locks eyes with the asshole who seems intent on ruining this poor bastard's life. 

"Mᴀᴛᴛ," he yells as he's hauled away into the crowd, "Sʜᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ."

It's not exactly elegant but Matt slams his jaw closed so hard Cass can see him wince against the jolt of pain through his bashed in face. Cass cackles as they disappear into the mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He feels high. There's twin feelings gripping his chest, the thrill of a fight and the blinding panic of running away. The rush of beating someone at their own game twisted with the knowledge that they need to get the hell out of here before they're caught.  He has no idea what's happening but it's fast and it's thrilling. It's making him dizzy, making his blood pump electric. He barks another laugh as he dodges some random guy's elbow, grips Kauri's hand even harder and lets himself be pulled.

"God, who the fuck is Kauri Grant?"

Kauri pulls him to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY just to the side of the stage, shoving it open and stumbling out into a dark alley, the sudden chill on his skin the only reason Kauri realizes he's sweating.

Out here the noise is gone, there's the sound of sirens far away, and Kauri's eyes dart around, thinking, before he pulls Cass to the right, further down the alley, stepping over refuse and empty beer bottles. 

"I… I am," Kauri says, voice thin. The side door they just left opens and he pulls Cass quickly against the wall with him to hide behind a dumpster. "I'm Kauri Grant." He swallows hard, panic still beating at the back of his mind, and slowly slides down the wall to sitting, putting his head in his hands. 

"You hit really hard for how skinny you are, d'you know that?"

Maybe it’s the sudden cold, or maybe it’s the way Kauri’s holding his head, but waves of exhaustion and regret and fear hit Cass all at once. He ducks down as voices and noise filter wide and loud, and then go squashed and muffled again with the swinging of the door. 

“Fuck man, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, ducking his head to assess the damage. “I didn’t even think”

He reaches out a hand, pulls it back before contact. He really doesn’t know how to do this. The whole… God, what did Fuckhead McGee call it? The whole White Knight schtick. Is he meant to go find ice? Buy the guy a drink for his troubles? Usually when he finds himself kneeling on the wet concrete of an alley in front of a stranger it’s for a very different reason.

Cass sits back on his heels and laughs, loud and unabashed. He’d listened to that girl at the bar talk about her boyfriend for forty minutes when he should’ve been finding some pretty guy to sneak away with. And then he found a pretty guy and punched him in the face. Which… wasn’t always a dealbreaker, but even in the now relative quiet of the alley his heart is still slamming like there’s something to run away from and his brain feels cracked open and Jesus Christ, this night is already just so fucking dumb. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says between giggles. He tries to calm it down to a grin. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Kauri Grant. Did I, um…Is your head okay?”

"Yeah, my head's fine. I've been hit before," Kauri says, not quite muttering, rubbing his hand into his black curls. "Not usually in the head, but, you know, it's kinda empty anyway." He flashes a bright, deflecting smile, looking up at Cass. 

Kauri's head cocks slightly to the side, something in his smile changing, softening a little. Not quite flirtation, something more in self-defense. "Can you just say Kauri, please? I don't, um, I don't like his name. Very much. It's just, that's what they call me…" His voice trails off. "Thanks for, um. For catching that guy… I didn't know he put something in it... I didn’t know he knew.”

Cass frowns a little, trying to understand. Didn’t know who knew what?

"Okay you have to back up, you're giving me more questions than… than answers right now..." 

But then the pieces of Kauri he's seen through the night start falling together. The skittish eyes that didn't match with the flirting smile. Thanking the guy who would have happily held him limp in a basement. The wanting and wanting and wanting paired with the desperate need to run away. 

The ones like you, that guy had said, looking at Kauri like he was something to be eaten. The ones like what? The ones who met conflict with apologies and desperate bids for distraction. His eyes flick to the bracelet on Kauri's wrist, thick and leather and out of place amongst the rest of his "robbed a Good Will" ensemble and too wide, really to be stylish. Just wide enough to hide a tattoo, maybe. Or a brand.

I don’t like his name very much. Cass feels himself paling.

"Oh my god, you're somebody's," he whispers. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. Swallows the dry lump in his throat. "You're meant to belong to somebody."

Kauri jerks his arms back against himself, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over the bracelet about ten minutes too late. 

He looks up at Cass, blue eyes wide and pleading, and reaches out his hand to brush his fingers against Cass's hand, pitching his voice lower. 

"You, you don't have to tell anyone. That I'm, um. You don't have to. I can… I can-" He has no idea how to say this. He focuses his thoughts on what he knows, falling back on training. I want this. I want you. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner's desires. 

"I can, um. Whatever you, you want, if you won't say you saw me?" His voice shakes - he can't seem to stop it. He has to hope it sounds like the good kind of nervous and not the terror he really feels. 

Cass feels his stomach drop, something catching in his throat as fingers brush the back of his hand again. The tug and pull of I want this. The tilt of Kauri’s head is so tempting it looks rehearsed. I want you.

“That’s…” Kauri’s eyes are gorgeous — huge and blue and desperate — and Cass has to close his own just to think straight. “That’s not what…  I, um.”

I want this. I want you. Resolute and relentless against his thoughts. I want this. I want you. Over and over and over again. Frenzied and pleading and wanting and fucking terrified.  I want this. I want you. 

Cass curls his fingers around Kauri’s, running his thumb along the other boy’s palm. I want this. I want you. Something in him feels shaken up and loose at the hinges from feeling it. It feels wrong. Too familiar, too close to home, too close to… something. Please let me want this. Please want me too.

Cass closes his eyes again, shakes his head. Maybe it’s just the after effects of being knocked crooked. Cass did punch the guy in the face. And it’s been kind of a fucked up fifteen minutes. Maybe they both just need the distraction. The relief of something simple and easy. And if they're both actively participating in something dumb and fun and stupid, maybe it’ll be enough to make them both feel better. 

“Look, I’m not… I’m not gonna say anything,” he says, tugging Kauri’s hand closer, tracing a line up his arm. I want this. He smiles, let’s the pulse of it spur him on “We can just have fun, okay? I’m not gonna say anything”

Relief washes over Kauri, a wave of it that nearly knocks him over. He’s doing it right, his voice is right, all the training is working and letting him slide into an easier place in his head. His smile isn’t quite sincere and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in it is very real. 

Besides, the guy is cute, and Kauri would’ve gone home with him, too. 

The ones like you always do.

There’s an unease - he doesn’t always like that things like that are true, about him - and he chases it away by closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. I want this, I want him - and that part definitely isn’t a lie - and I’ll be safe if I give him this. 

“Okay, um, th-thanks,” He says, voice just a little breathy, ducking his head with another shy smile.”I’m, um, I’m up for basically anything, basically always.” He gives a cheeky little grin and a laugh, like that’s a joke he tells to a lot of people and has memorized the timing on. “Just, I’m not trained for-... I don’t go in for pain. That’s it. Hey, so, um, you know my name… what’s yours? So I know what to scream later.”

He’d heard that in a movie once and always kind of wanted to say it.

Cass laughs, broken harmony against Kauri's own. The line is lame but it doesn’t really matter. Kauri makes it charming. He is ridiculously good at this.

"Cass. But usually people just stick with ‘oh, God'," he laughs, moving in closer, grin against grin. He leans in to brush his lip against Kauri's jaw, slow and teasing, hands staying steady on the guy's knee as Kauri hitches in a breath and shivers, turning his head to give Cass a better angle for it. "And I go for anything."

He wants this. They both do. The relief of something familiar and safe. Just a minute of stupid normal. I want this. Cass plants a kiss at the corner of Kauri's jaw. I want him. Cass lets his hand slide from knee to thigh. I'll be safe if I give him this. Cass pulls himself closer in, brings his fingers up to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of Kauri’s neck and… and… 

I'll be safe if I want this.

The wave of revulsion that runs through him is slow and sickly, like hot tar, like molasses. Familiar and foreign in the same mouthful. 

"Sorry. I, uh," he pulls back and he can feel the ghost of Christopher's hands on his hips, pulling his hair back, lips against his cheek – Don't hesitate, darling boy. Show me what you want.

“Hey… you okay?” Kauri murmurs the words, and it’s with real concern, shivering at the feeling of Cass’s fingers in his hair, slipping his own hands to touch lightly at his ribs on either side, a question and a test. 

Cass feels adrenaline gripping him but that's fine, that's good, because wanting and fear walk the same line anyway. I'm an active participant. Which doesn’t feel like the shape of a thought that’s his but is close enough to that it doesn’t matter. He wants this. It's safer to want it. Then you don't have to think. You don't have to feel. That's why places like this are fun, why nights like these are so good.

So like every other night like this, he pulls in close to prettiest guy in the bar, pushes down the resistance in himself, and kisses him fucking senseless.

Kauri’s head tilts back and up for it, twisting his fingers hard into Cass’s shirt to pull him in even closer, until his head bumps back into the wall behind him and he loses his balance, falling back to sitting on the ground with a soft, sweet little laugh, a breath of air before he lets Cass kiss him mindless again.

The safest he’s felt for weeks is times like this, a man’s hands on him, a man’s mouth on his, knowledge and certainty that someone wants him, that he has something to give other people, some way to earn their kindness and repay it. His hands slide up Cass’s neck to tangle in his hair, too, pulling him in as close as he can get on the ground in a dark alley, skin lighting up everywhere they touch. 

“H-hey, I can’t, ah-...” He breaks free, and flashes the shy little smile again. He feels so good now, safer, because he’ll be good and he knows Cass meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell, he looks like someone who won’t tell anyone, and Kauri has to trust him. “I don’t… I’m technically homeless. So if you think I’m taking you home, uh… welcome to my house, I guess,” He says, gesturing at the alley around them and then laughing a little to himself.

He’s gotten himself this far, but there’s still a hint of the artificial conditioning twining all his conscious thoughts. I want this is real and true but it’s also what he knows how to say, and I’m safer if I want it, I matter if someone wants me and I want to matter to someone runs under honest desire as he moves to slip his hand up under Cass’s shirt. 

“H-how do you, how do you want to… um… this?”

Cass practically vibrates at Kauri's touch and he leans in even closer. Every touch is a relief. His body has been begging for this, for touch, all week

"Well I'd say we could go back to mine but…" Cass thinks of white walls, screaming fluorescents. His tiny quarters with the single bed and the sliding door that Tucker swans in and out of as he pleases. "Mine's not really much of a house either. So I guess we'll just get creative at yours"

He catches Kauri's lips again and pulls himself in closer until he's all but straddling the guy's lap. Kauri moves his body against Cass's like he was custom made for it. He lets his hand come to a gentle rest on the column of the guy's throat, his thumb tracing the line from his chin to his collar and back up again.

This is all Cass has wanted all week. To wrap himself in someone else's wants and just disappear for a bit. And yeah, maybe it feels a little off tonight. A little sickly. Like eating overripe fruit. But it's also been a long time since he's been this close to sober and trying to hook up with someone so who the fuck knows.

"Gotta say, I love what you've done to the place," he adds, breaking the kiss with a grin as he glances around at their elegant surroundings. Kauri laughs, almost a breathless giggle, glad he’s found someone with a real sense of humor even if it’s to keep him from telling anyone who he’s seen. Cass brings his lips to Kauris throat and let's his voice buzz electric along his jugular "I usually swoon for just one dumpster but three? You're such a romantic."

Kauri tips his head back against the wall behind him, staring up into the flat, featureless sky. As soon as Cass says the word Romantic, though, he goes perfectly still. Every muscle tense, for just a second it’s closer to holding a frightened animal than a person.

“Uh, th-thanks,” He manages, shakily, pushing the nerves back down. Just another way to call him a slut, like everyone else does, but he’ll do what he wants and be safer that way. It doesn’t matter if he calls Kauri a whore or a slut or a Romantic, it all means the same thing - people like him. People who can’t stop themselves, who don’t know better, who are nothing and no one unless somebody is touching them.

Cass is nice, and his hands and his mouth feel so good, and it doesn’t matter what he calls Kauri. What matters is giving him what he wants. 

He makes himself relax, consciously, and slides his hands around behind Cass, shifting his hips up, letting training take over again until the nervousness could die back down. I matter if someone wants me, it doesn’t matter why or how, I’m safe if I want this. 

“If you want, I could, um, could g-go down on you,” Kauri breathes, rolling his hips up.  

Cass feels himself grinning at the same moment as he feels his stomach clench in a knot so tight he can hardly breathe. Wanting and fear walk the same line. The latter is easy enough to ignore.

"Fuck yes," he all but moans, swinging his leg around to sit against the wall beside Kauri. Cass fumbles for the button of his jeans. He wants this. Kauri does too. Cass can feel how much he wants this. Kauri wants to feel safe. He wants Kauri to feel safe. And he also wants his brain to shut off and stop screaming discomfort just because the water’s a little muddy.

It doesn't matter if he wants it because it's gonna feel so good once it's happening he won't even care. And then he'll make Kauri feel so good, Kauri won't care either. He won't care about being wanted. He won't care about being safe because Cass will make him feel fucking fantastic. 

And all of that would’ve been fine if Cass didn’t look up and catch Kauri’s eyes.  He feels the knot in his stomach twist. In less than a second any spark of libido he had had rots and dies. There’s no want in Kauri's eyes. No nervous excitement. It’s not eagerness that’s pulling their bodies in close.

Desperation and terror were just one hell of a cocktail. Especially when finished off with resignation.

Cass closes his eyes and let's his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk.

“No,” he whispers. “No, hold on, stop.”

He really wishes he'd had some ket. Or at least a bit of molly. Just something to blunt the edges of whatever the fuck is happening right now. Something is wrong with him.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't open his eyes. "Something's wrong, I can't do this. You don't… you don’t..."

Kauri’s hands are still tangled in Cass’s shirt at first, and he slowly pulls them back, worried, leaning forwards to try and tilt his head and look closer at Cass’s face. No no no no. He’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know what, or how - it had seemed right, like it was all happening the way it was supposed to and soon enough he’d forget to be scared and just feel good things until it was done, and if it was good enough Cass wouldn’t tell anybody about him in case maybe he saw him again. 

That’s how it works. Kauri gives, and he gets safety in return. But this isn’t safe.

You don’t even know if you actually want it or if you just think that because they made you. It’s what he thinks the end of that sentence probably is, because it’s what Dustin said when Kauri tried, and it’s what Jake said, and it’s what everyone tells him over and over again. That he can’t even know what he wants, because Owen wanted him brainless and a slut.

“I’m sorry, is it… something I’ve done?”

Cass scoffs a laugh, knocking the back of his head into the brick wall to try and shake his thoughts back straight. What the fuck is he meant to say? Sorry bro, my telepathy killed the mood.

“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face “No you didn’t do anything, you just… you’re just-”

You’re just too fucking close to my kind of broken.

There’s a harsh sort of panic bouncing off of Kauri in waves at the rejection. What the fuck is Cass meant to do though? He can’t pretend like everything’s fine because it’s not. He can’t tell him to piss off because then he’d really be an asshole. He can’t fuck him because it’d be… that’d be...

Cass’ stomach lurches. He slams his hands down against the concrete with a growl, kicks at an empty bottle by his leg. It scrapes harsh against the ground in a loud, grating circle and Cass flinches his foot back like it cut him.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucked,” he says, laughter twisting his voice and making it bitter. He looks over at the person who pulled him out of a bar fight ten minutes ago. This random person who he'd started a bar fight for fifteen minutes ago. This random fucking person he shouldn't give two shits about. Cass shakes his head, "You don't wanna be here, man. Just go home."

Kauri snorts, almost bitterly. “I can’t, remember? I don’t fucking have one. Although I guess I could go sit on the bus…” He sighs, watching Cass - and he’s not always good at reading people’s intentions, but he can read emotions fairly well and he can see that Cass looks nearly sick, either angry or upset, and he just takes in a deep breath, putting his hands up over his face and then down again.

“No, I get it. It’s because I’m a pet, right? It’s, you wanted to see what it’s like with a pet. You saw me with that guy and knew, and you thought you’d try, too, and you can’t… don’t want to, once I’m really here.”

Cass is shaking his head before Kauri even finishes speaking. Who calls themself a fucking pet?

"What the fuck? No. Jesus Christ, no," he screws his face up, rakes his hand through his hair.

Cass can feel something volcanic starting to bubble up inside of him.

He had done everything right tonight. He hadn't had too much to drink. He'd helped some random guy in trouble just because it was the right thing to do. He'd taken Kauri’s lead and then he'd read the warning signs and he'd stopped. He’d fucking stopped. How was he still the bad guy?

"No fucking way are you putting that bullshit on me," he spits. "You're the one who pulled me out here. I was just trying to help. You don't know what you want, then don't fuck with people's heads!"

“Fuck with people’s-” Kauri’s own voice edges with real anger. “I didn’t fuck with anybody’s head! I just, this guy hit on me and bought me a drink, and you showed up and said it was drugged! I didn’t do anything wrong, people talk about wanting to try out pets all the time, I-”

He catches himself, cutting off his own voice all at once like turning off a radio. No no no, if you make him mad he’ll tell someone or he’ll get really really mad or…

Kauri looks away, down at the alleyway pavement, scraping at it lightly with one shoe. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get angry. You were really trying to help, and, and that was really nice of you, to do that. I was just trying to, to pay you back, I guess? Besides, you’re… really fucking cute, so…”

It's the exact same trick he'd tried on the guy inside, Cass realises. Make nice with the wolf and hope that it'll be kind when it eats you alive. It's too familiar and too close and aimed at him and Cass wants to retch. It's burnt sugar disgusting. The desperate need to stay safe, to keep everything calm. No matter the cost. No matter what you give away. 

"See, that is exactly what I fucking mean. Two seconds ago you were so mad at me you were basically screaming and now you're apologising and telling me I'm cute just so I'll..."

Cass breaks off, shakes his head, staring up at the hazy not-black of city sky at night. He shoves away the twin claws of rage and confusion as he meets Kauri’s eyes again, tries to keep his voice even and something close to calm.

"Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna say anything, alright? Whatever your deal is, I'm not gonna tell the cops or whatever" Cass tries for a smile "Trust me, I'd be just as fucked."

“Would you really?” Kauri blinks at him, no sign of that earlier flash of anger left, either in his posture or in his expression. He’d done what he’s best at, when it comes to being mad - just pushed it down until he didn’t feel it any longer, and he could see things from the other person’s point of view. Like understanding that Owen was mad because he’d tried to talk to someone when he wasn’t allowed, and that Dustin was mad because Kauri wanted more than he was willing to give, and the way everyone was mad that he wouldn’t sit still.

“And thanks. I won’t tell you what the reward for ‘information regarding my whereabouts’ is, though, if it’s all the same to you.” He tries for a small, slightly sidelong smile, more sincere than his last attempt had been. “Are you a runaway, too? Is there a reward out for you?”

Cass only barely stops himself from balking at the remark. Kauri says it so casually, like having a price on your head is just an everyday annoyance they might be able to bond over. Just all in a day. “Uh… no. No, there isn’t. I would just…” I would just have my contract re-assessed. Risk having my indenture reset. End up permanently locked in the lab. Or back in Christopher’s den.  “My, uh, employer wouldn’t be very impressed if you get what I’m saying”

He adjusts his grip on his arm subconsciously, thumb running over the scar that sits along his inner arm. He’s always sort of wondered if one of Tucker’s little chips is there, just sitting by his radial bone, too close to the artery to risk cutting out himself. Guess he’ll never know.

He snaps his attention back to Kauri. Matches the guy’s smile with his own.

“But a reward, huh? Fuck man.” he says. A lofty one at that, apparently. Kauri Grant. Maybe that’s why the name was familiar. He would’ve seen it on the TV or something. Jesus, he’d had to help the one fuckin’ guy with a more tragic backstory than him. He laughs a little, like this is just some sort of watercooler gossip. Mondays, huh? “What did you do, kill your keeper?”

"My, um, my owner. And… no, I-I couldn't-" Kauri's eyes widen with real horror at the thought. "No, I would never have… um, he was, wasn't always that bad… I probably, I just-... I mean I did fuck up, but I didn't hurt anybody." 

He looks away from Cass, a little uncomfortably, and says, "He, uh. Got mad when I fucked up. He broke a promise, and I… left. I guess you'd see it eventually, since there's no way I wasn't gonna take my shirt off for you."

He pulls down on the stretched-out neckline of his shirt, and even in the dim alley, a bit of a large, twisted scar shows over his collarbone. 

"He paid a lot of money for, for me. I wasn't supposed to be able to leave. I took out the thing he put in to control me."

[valiantly-onward]

The Serpentine War Ch. 8

Here’s chapter eight! It’s my finals week, so I’ve been posting a little less. In that vein, good luck to everyone on their finals!

Chapter 8: Home

The journey to Lorin’s hometown took many days, even on dragonback. Ray was getting tired of needing a ride, but Wu had not even begun to explain how to create Elemental dragons. When Ray asked Lei about it, she just laughed. So he sulkily rode behind her throughout the trip.

They were a strange flock of oversized geese, flying in a practiced V formation. Ray couldn’t get a good look at the other dragons, and he had no idea whether Maya was behind or in front of him. He didn’t like not knowing where she was - it made him feel a little disoriented, like he’d lost his sense of direction. Realizing he cared was more worrisome than the worry itself. He didn’t like how reliant he’d become on her simple presence.

The final leg of the journey came to a close on this bright, early morning. Sam Pale, the long-haired Master of Light, tended to get up with the sun, and Lorin saluted that “eagerness” by forcing them all to follow Sam’s example. Ray was quickly learning the hierarchy of the Alliance. Supposedly, they were all equals under Wu’s command, but it was obvious that respect went a long way with these guys. And their small group seemed to respect Lorin - at least, enough to get up early.

Ray was sore from the long days of flying. He didn’t mention this to Lei, but he was relieved when the head of the dragon formation dipped down through the clouds. Ray held onto Lei as they dropped. He threw a shout of joy to the wind as it rushed him toward the ground.

Most of the trip, they’d been flying over high, rocky hills. Now, those hills parted to reveal a village. From above, Ray saw it was bigger than Jamanakai. The houses were spread out amongst small plots of turned-up soil. Ray immediately wondered how they would defend such a place. There was no centralized area, and the low stone buildings didn’t seem to follow any kind of pattern. The only advantage was the hills. They’d be able to see the Serpentine coming for miles.

Of course, that same logic had failed in Jamanakai Village. But that was mostly Ray’s fault.

They landed. Every dragon vanished in a puff of Elemental energy. Villagers began emerging from the closest houses. A few kids shouted in delight and raced toward them. Many adults immediately approached Lorin, who tipped back his silver helmet and shook their hands, speaking in low tones.

Sam Pale lifted a long leg as the kids swerved between him and the Master of Lightning. “Oi, Master of Earth! What are we up to first?”

Didn’t the guy ever rest? They’d just arrived! They needed a break.

Lorin glanced back. “First things first. C’mon, all.”

The eight of them continued further into the village. Maya appeared beside Ray, and though they didn’t speak, Ray was quietly happy she was there. Deep in the village, they found an actual road; it blended so well into the dusty ground, Ray had missed it. Lorin led them to one of the houses near the road - a happy stone building with curved red roofs and no plot of land.

A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway. She started toward them purposefully. Ray thought for a moment she was carrying something beneath her coat, except -

“Alliance, this is my wife, Hanna,” Lorin said proudly. He leaned down, a hand on his wife’s belly. “And our soon-to-be son.”

“Daughter,” Hanna corrected. She kissed Lorin’s scruffy cheek and turned to the rest of them with a smile. “The one who’s right gets to name her.”

“Him.” Lorin nodded to Hanna. “We need to set up defenses and find lodging.”

“Then some of you better come with me,” Hanna replied. “This way.”

She strode around the back side of the house. Ray looked at Lorin. “You’re gonna have a kid?”

Lorin raised his eyebrows in response. “Yes. Is that so surprising?”

“No, just…” Ray paused. “Don’t you - I mean we - lose our powers if we have kids? Aren’t you afraid of that?” Wu had described it to him after Ray asked how Fire could’ve skipped a generation in his family. Upon reaching young adulthood, Masters aged slowly, as long as they had their powers. Children nearly always meant losing those powers, plus the slow aging. Already, a life without powers sounded like a half-life to Ray.

Lorin chuckled. “It has to happen sometime. I just hope the baby comes after all this is over.”

He seemed to deem the conversation ended. He directed Sam Pale and Vivian to go with him to the edge of the town, and the rest of them to follow Hanna.

“I can’t believe he’s not worried,” Ray said as soon as Lorin was out of earshot.

Lei shot him a quizzical look. “You don’t think love is worth it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Then you’re not in the best company. Everyone here has someone.” Lei jabbed a thumb at the blonde woman jogging after Lorin. “Vivian, for example. She got married real spontaneous when Wu called for us. She keeps going on and on about how she might not get a honeymoon if the war doesn’t end soon. If I ever meet Cliff Gordon, I might slap him, just for how many times I’ve had to hear his name.”

This made Ray laugh out loud. Maya strode up next to him, cocking her head at Lei. “What about you?”

Lei scoffed. “Can’t anything be private around here? If we win this war, maybe I’ll talk. If we don’t, it won’t matter, because we’ll all be dead.”

“Comforting,” Ray commented.

They went to find Hanna.

She showed them empty rooms inside the house. There weren’t many, so Maya and Lei would get the extra beds, while Ray and Asher, the Master of Smoke, were relegated the old couch in the main room. Just a hunch, but Ray was certain the couch wouldn’t fit two.

Unsurprisingly, Asher set his sleeping roll on the couch. He was small, colorful man in poofy pants and a fez. He looked a little different from Ray’s brand of Ninjagoan, but not uncommon, especially in Ninjago City.

He looked apologetically at Ray. “I am the smaller man. I don’t believe you would fit comfortably.”

Ray raised his hands in surrender, feeling a little guilty about his self-pity. But he did always have the rottenest luck. “You take it, man. I’m gonna head outside.”

Asher nodded to him. Ray pushed open the back door and found Maya outside. She was leaning against a tumble of boulders, glaring at the horizon.

“The bed’s that bad, huh?” Ray asked.

“It’s fine,” Maya said shortly. “Hanna is sweet.”

“Yeah, she is.” Ray rubbed the shoulder of his chest plate. He felt the grooves of the dragon engraving under his fingers. “Wanna go find Lorin?”

Maya’s gaze seemed far away. “I don’t like how it went down at Jamanakai Village. It wasn’t much of a fight. I even lost to a Venomari.”

“Venomari?”

Maya looked at him. “Yes. The Venomari tribe.”

“Ah, right,” Ray replied seriously. “Those are the blue ones.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Alright, you need a crash course in Serpentine tribes.” She sat down on the boulder. “Come here.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Ray sat down. Maya leaned over in the dirt and began drawing methodically. She was really good, actually. Just by watching, Ray saw that her hand knew all the right places to put the strokes.

After she finished with a rough image of five different snakes, she sat up.

“Looks good,” Ray noted.

Maya glanced at him, like she didn’t know quite how to respond. “Thanks. Now, look. This one is called a Hypnobrai. Those are the blue ones. Don’t look them in the eye or they’ll hypnotize you.”

“Okay.”

Maya tapped the second image with a stick, the two-headed snake. “Fangpyre. Red. Their venom changes people into Serpentine.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. The big black ones, Constrictai. Strong, can choke you to death. And Venomari. If they bite you, the venom is deadly, but usually they’ll just spray your eyes and make you hallucinate.”

Ray pulled one knee up to his chest. “So the moral here is to stay away from snakes. Why did I agree to go to war again?”

A smile reached across Maya’s face. So small. Ray’s chest exploded with uproarious victory.

He offered a hand to her and she took it, pulling herself up. “And the Anacondrai?” he asked.

“The power of invisibility” Maya held his gaze for a long moment before releasing his hand. “The most dangerous tribe of them all.”

Ray nodded. “All the more reason to train, right?”

“Now,” Maya said. “You’re learning.”

~~~

The days spun into weeks. For the first time, Ray felt like he was really part of the Alliance. It helped that his powers seemed to obey him better each day. He now knew what to look for inside himself, the feeling that guided each spurt of power.

Every day, after their sentry duty in the hills, Ray and Maya would go to the boulders to train together. This, if nothing else, felt familiar, grounding. Sometimes, if Lorin wasn’t busy, he would come to watch and offer pointers.

Ray liked Lorin. The guy treated both him and Maya with respect, and he seemed like a steady, dependable guy. Ray admired that.

The Master of Light, on the other hand, was a little less steady. Sam Pale’s untidy habit of manipulating light to turn himself invisible was funny until Ray was on the receiving end of the joke.

That left the Masters of Lightning and Smoke, neither of whom Ray knew what to make of. Vivian was loudly annoying and Asher was quietly annoying, so it was a back-and-forth. Maya seemed to get along fine with both, which Ray didn’t understand.

On the third week, Ray left Hanna’s house in the afternoon and met up with Maya and Vivian at the base of the hills.

Here, a few lonely trees clustered close together, shaking in the breeze. Vivian smiled up at a branch where a bluejay had perched. It whistled and she whistled back.

“Oh,” she sighed. “I love bluejays. They’re such smart, handsome little things.”

Neither of them replied, because this was Vivian, and she cared very little if anyone replied so long as she knew they were listening. She was a willowy woman with long, curly blonde hair. Vivian had mass. Not in the physical sense; she just seemed to take up a lot of space. A balance between dreamy and so very present, she was contradictory in a way that made Ray’s head hurt. 

“Okay,” Ray said. The trees were designated as the split spot, and they would go each to a different section of the hills. Get the high ground and keep watch. “See you guys in a few hours.”

They split: Vivian sauntering like the lovable fool she was, Maya in ninja-mode like the Master-Wu-student she was, and Ray walking, like a normal person. Red didn’t help him stay concealed in the rocks, but it was better than the blues the ladies wore.

Ray kept his sword sheathed - he’d learned that lesson, it was far too easy to get distracted even in simple exercises. He would watch. He would wait for the attack, surely coming any day now.

All reports from the Echo Canyons said the Serpentine had posted themselves in Jamanakai and seemed to be staying there. That made everyone, including Ray, feel uncomfortable. If the Jamanakai snakes weren’t moving, that meant they were confident the remainder of the Anacondrai would pass the Mountain of A Million Steps.

Ray skimmed the hills for an hour or more, then took a post near the top. He sat down against a rock where he could easily see the surrounding horizon - the Mountain of A Million Steps rising in the distance, the sun glaring off the opposing hillsides, the ocean of rocky terrain that separated this green village from the Sea of Sand.

He heard something.

Ray jumped up immediately, staying low against the rock. Behind it, hissing hurried past, like leaves against a sidewalk. It took Ray a moment to separate the sound into voices.

“...this way.”

He peered around the rock. There was a flash of red, then a softer green. Fangpyre. Venomari. Serpentine.

Two of them. Both had legs instead of tails, but they were still quick, small. The Fangpyre had just one flat head, swirling white across its scales.

They hadn’t seen him yet. They seemed to be heading toward the ridge above the town. Ray kept himself hidden behind the boulders and followed them.

When they got to the ridge, the two snakes laid flat on their scaly bellies, stretching long necks above the rocks. The whole village strung out below them. And to the north, a dagger-split in the rocky hills. The pass the Serpentine needed.

The Venomari ducked back down. “Andulus, I can’t see any Masters.”

“They’re there,” the Fangpyre replied. “Quiet.”

Unbidden, the Fanpyre suddenly jerked its head back. Fortunately, Ray was able to pull himself behind his boulder in time. Three counts of silence. When he peered back around, the snakes were surveying the village again.

“I’m tired of this,” the Venomari said. “It’s not worth it to attack such a small village.”

“We’ll be ruling them all soon enough, Lysss.”

“Yes.” The Venomari’s small crown flared. “But I thought this was about warning the humans, not ruling them.”

The Fanpyre stretched his neck a little. “If they will not listen, we must ensure they don’t bring destruction upon themselves.”

“Why do we care?” the Venomari hissed. “The humans can destroy themselves if they want.”

“Don’t let General Acidicus hear you talking like that.”

“What about your general? Kandoras? He could put a stop to this.”

The Fangpyre snorted, though it sounded more like a muffled hiss. “He will not undermine Arcturus. Now, hush this traitorous talk.”

The Venomari fell silent. Ray laid a hand on his katana hilt. These creatures were armed, but only with small knives, and they were small themselves. After facing the Anacondrai, this would be a piece of cake.

He waited for them to start talking again, for distraction, but they didn’t. Ray got tired of waiting.

He attacked.

The Serpentine rolled away from each other. The Fangpyre was on his feet, whipping out his knife. Ray disarmed him in a moment with one well-placed strike. His blade hovered near the Fangpyre’s long red neck. Then he looked at the Venomari on his other side.

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” the Venomari said, gesturing to Ray. He hadn’t even drawn his knife. “No respect.”

“Are you scouts?” Ray asked.

The Fangpyre sneered in response.

Ray decided not to press it. “You’re coming with me down to the village. The Masters will love to meet you.”

“You presume to take us prisoner?” the Fangpyre snapped, though his slitted pupils darted warily to the blade. “A measly human with a sword?”

Ray raised his hand. It took a few seconds, but his fingers burst into flames. The Venomari, who’d finally started going for his knife, scrambled back.

Ray smiled at the Fangpyre in the firelight. “Let’s get moving.”

~~~

Striding back into a village with two prisoner Serpentine was a good way to get people to hate you.

The villagers wanted nothing to do with the snakes. It took a lot of convincing for one of Lorin’s villager friends to let them lock the Serpentine in his basement. Even then, everyone gave the house a wide berth, and the owner of the house constantly glared daggers at Ray.

Ray meant to return to the hills for duty with Vivian and Maya, but Lorin kept him. They stood in front of the house. Lorin scratched his black beard thoughtfully.

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“They can’t report back now,” Ray reminded him. “No intelligence. That’s good, right?”

“I suppose. But this means they’re scouting out this area. They will come through here. Perhaps in the next few days. Did you hear them say anything?”

“I -” Ray cut off when he saw Maya approaching. Their shift must’ve ended already.

She got to them, wide-eyed. “I heard you caught Serpentine.”

Ray jerked his head toward the big house. “They’re in there.”

“Are they scouts?”

“We think so.” Ray looked at Lorin. “Although one of them…”

Ray tried to recall exactly what the Serpentine had said. It seemed like the Venomari was against attacking the village. But that couldn’t be right.

“The Fangpyre didn’t like what the Venomari was saying,” he remembered. “He sounded like he was going against their generals, talking about how he didn’t want to fight. And - destruction? They said we’re going to destroy ourselves.”

Lorin’s brow deepened. Maya, on the other hand, caught her breath. “He said he didn’t want to fight?”

“Uh, I think so. But -”

“Ray, do you know what this means?”

“What?” he asked.

She shoved his shoulder. “The Serpentine are willing to compromise! They might negotiate with us!”

“Negotiate?” Ray threw a hand to the air. “We watched them nearly destroy an entire village, and you want to negotiate with them? They’re monsters!”

“They’re people,” Maya retorted. “Some of them don’t want to fight.” She paused to watch him, and added, “You’re just scared.”

“I’m not -” Ray stopped himself. Turned away, his hands linked behind his head. Turned back. “You’re right. Okay? I am scared. Is that such a bad thing?”

Maya didn’t reply for a moment. Her eyes were dark. “No,” she said at last. “But it doesn’t change what we have to do.”

At this, Lorin looked up. He frowned at Maya. “What would that be?”

“It’s obvious.” She stepped back to address them both. “We have to convince Master Wu to go to the Serpentine Generals and negotiate for peace.”

@greenygreenland

[atomic-taco-muffin]

Kingdom High Chapter 2

Warnings: same as the last chapter

Rating: SFW

Once upon a time... In a far away land, all eyes were on Apple as she made the most important declaration of her life.

“I am Apple White, daughter of Snow White, and I am ready to pledge my destiny,” She said. The students cheered for her. Suddenly everything froze.

Of course you'd start with Apple, always playing favorites. Start at the beginning of the school year.

Oh, fine. Gather round, friends, and let us tell you a story: the story of Ever After High, a high school for the teenage sons and daughters of the most famous fairy tale characters who ever lived. But this year was like no other for the students of Ever After High. Apple's Tale, the story of a Royal. 

For it is the year of the Legacy Day; a momentous event where the students pledge to all the magical world to follow the same paths as their fairy tale parents. Apple and Briar were chatting and walking to the school. 

“I can't believe it. Legacy Day happens this year and there's just ever so much to do!” Apple said. 

“Totally, right! I mean this year's after party is gonna be a page ripper! I heard DJ N-Chant is gonna—” Briar said. Apple ran in front of Briar.

“Briar, it's not just about the party. This is destiny! Future queen! We can't let anyone post embarrassing pictures of us on MyChapter,” Apple said. 

“Hey! Daughter of Sleeping Beauty. If I'm gonna be catching Z's for a hundred years, I gotta live it up now! Hm, and come on, no one would post anything bad about you!” Briar said as the two of them walked up the steps.

“Everybody loves you!” Briar said. 

“It’s Apple White!” a pig swooned. A prince sighed, dreamily. 

“Gorgeous!” Lilly-Bo Peep said. Her sheep bleated happily.

“Can I carry your books?” Tiny asked as he stepped in.

“Why, Tiny! Aren't you the sweetest little thing?” Apple said. She gave her books to him.

“Thank you!” She said.

“See? They love you! Oh-oh!” Briar said as she held Apple’s hands. 

“I don't wanna miss a minute of our first day,” she said. Briar walked away to say hi to the other students.

“Hi, everybody! Hey, what's up? Howdy!” she said. In the distance was Daring Charming, standing alone with a hand over his mouth and laughing.

“Hey, Prince Daring! Um, why are you holding your hand over your mouth?” Apple said as she walked up to him.

“Well, you see, I just got my teeth whitened and Headmaster Grimm said I can't show people, 'cause...” Daring said. 

“But your smile is so charming!”

“Well, you know...” He flashed his smile and it blinded Tiny.

“Ah! My eyes! I can't see! Ah!” Tiny said as he fell down. 

“I’m okay!” he said. Daring and Apple giggled.

“Apple! Daring!” Blondie said. She giggled as Daring clicked his fingers.

“So, any juicy dating details for my Mirror Cast show?” she asked as she opened her MirrorPad. 

“Talk to the Mirror!” she said as she pointed it at Apple.

“Ah, Blondie! Daring and I are still not a couple! This is high school,” Apple said. She held Daring’s hand. 

“We've got forever after to be together!” she said. 

“But you two are the perfect couple. Not too this, not too that, you're just right!” Blondie said. 

“Come on, Apple, let's go get some lunch. Charm you later!” Daring said. He flashed his smile at Blondie and she covered her face. He and Apple walked away.

“Oh! Oh-ah!” Blondie giggled as she walked away.

And so that night, back in the Ever After dorms, Apple had a surprise waiting for her new roommate.

“You think Raven's gonna like this?” Briar asked. Apple ran over to her.

“Of course! What future Evil Queen wouldn't love an evil throne, an evil crown, and an evil haunted mirror?” Apple said. 

“True. Huh. But why are you doing this for Raven?” Briar said. 

“Because she's such an important part of my story! When she poisons me, it changes everything. Then the prince can wake me, and I become queen.” Apple held Briar’s hands.

“That's when I get my Happily Ever After,” she said as she winked.

“I need her!” 

“Hey! Maddie?” Raven said from outside. 

“Quick! Hide! I don't want Raven to know you helped me,” Apple said. 

“I'll go out the window. I've never done that before,” Briar said as she ran over to the window.

“Ha ha!” she said as she jumped out the window.

“Wheeeeeee...!” she said. Apple turned around when Raven opened the door.

“Welcome home, roomie!” she said. 

“Huh, good one, Apple. I'm rooming with Maddie this year,” Raven said. 

“Not anymore!” Apple shook her head confidently.

“Huh?” Raven asked. 

“Man! I am good-looking!” Daring said as he held out his hands.

“ ...eeeeee! Oh!” Briar said. Daring had caught her in his arms. 

“Daring? How'd you know I was gonna be here?” Briar asked. 

“Catching damsels in distress:” Daring said as he dropped Briar.

“It's kinda my thing,” he said. 

“Well, that was A TOTAL RUSH!” Briar said as she stood up and ran back. 

“Stay here! I'm going again,” she laughed and Daring readied his arms. In Book End, Briar and Apple were walking together.

“Hey, you wanna get a hocus latte?” Briar asked. 

“Oh, that sounds magical. I love mine with nutmeg. How do you like yours?” Apple said.

“Oh, I like a-lot-a-lot-a-lot-a-lot of cream.” The two giggled together and they found Ashlynn at the front of her shoe store.

“Hey!” Ashlynn said.

“Hi, Ashlynn!” Apple said. 

“Wanna go on a nature hike later? I haven't been in the woods in days and it just feels so good to get back to what really matters.”

“I got a shipment here; a three hundred new shoes for the Glass Slipper,” the delivery goose said. 

“New! Shoes! Ahhh haha! Where?!” Ashlynn said. The delivery goose pointed to the sky and more delivery geese flew by with several packages. They dropped them below and Ashlynn caught all of them.

“It's a shoe thing!” Briar said. 

“Well, she is Cinderella's daughter!” Apple said. Briar nodded in agreement. Suddenly the bell rang.

“Ooh, time for our Legacy Day rehearsal. I can't wait for everyone to get a glimpse of the queen I am going to become,” Apple said. Briar followed Apple but accidentally caught a shoe box falling from above. Ashlynn snatched it out of her hands while catching hundreds of boxes. Back at school, some students were gathered together for their Legacy Day rehearsal. 

But what Apple didn't know was that Raven Queen had other plans...

That would change the world for the better.

For the worse!

“So, when your magical key appears, you insert it gently into the Storybook of Legends, then stand; shoulders back, and declare your destiny to the world! Have I made myself clear?” Headmaster Grimm said. 

“But what if...” Raven asked as she held up a finger.

“No questions? Good. Who will go first?” Apple inched forward and raised her hand.

“Oh! Me! Me! Me! Em! Ah! Uh! Uh!” she said. 

“Step right this way,” Grimm said. Apple took the key in his hand.

“My future queen,” Grimm said as he bowed in respect.

“I am Apple White, and I pledge to follow my destiny as the next Snow White!” Apple said. 

“Perfect!” Grimm said. Apple turned around and returned the key.

“I know,” she said. Suddenly, there were some girls in the distance.

“Excuse me! Are you Headmaster Grimm?” one of the girls said.

“Yes, I am. Who might you be?” Grimm said. 

“My name is Akaya. And these are my friends.” Akaya introduced her friends.

“Ahh, you must be our new transfer students. Come, come. We’re just doing our Legacy Day rehearsal,” Grimm said. The girls walked over to the platform and stood next to the students.

“Hi, I’m Apple White,” Apple whispered to Akaya. 

“Hi, I’m Akaya.” 

“That’s a pretty name. Are you a royal or a rebel?”

“I’m a royal.” 

“Cool. I hope we get to be good friends this year.”

“Me too.” Akaya watched as the other students practiced their pledge.

“ I am Briar Beauty and I pledge to follow in my mom's footsteps and sleep for a hundred years,” Briar said, boringly. 

“BUT BEFORE I DO, I'm gonna live every minute! Oh, speaking of which, my dorm room, Friday night, we're gonna blow the roof off the place, and—” she said.

“Next!” Grimm interrupted. Daring danced over to the podium. 

“Hey, there! Charming. Daring Charming. I pledge to be just like my old man, King Charming: brave, good-looking, kind, good-looking, thoughtful, and good-looking,” he said as he clicked and smiled. 

“Next!” Grimm said. Akaya walked over to the podium, nervously.

“U-um, my name is Akaya. A-and I pledge to b-become the next guardian o-of light,” she said. 

“Excellent. Next!” Grimm said. Akaya walked back and stood next to Apple. 

“Phew, didn’t know that it was that scary,” Akaya said.

“You did great!” Apple said. 

“Thank you!” Akaya’s friends had their turn and it was not Raven’s turn.

“I'm Raven Queen and I pledge to follow my destiny as... um... I have a question,” she said.

“What is it?” Grimm asked. 

“I was just wondering, I mean, what if I don't want to take the pledge?” Everyone gasped except for Akaya and her friends. Apple’s mouth fell open and Daring shutted her mouth.

“She has to do it!” she said as she smacked Daring in the face by accident.

“I mean, if-if she never poisons me, then I'll never fall asleep, and-and I'll never be kissed by my prince, and I'll never become queen, and I'll never have my Happily Ever After!” she said as she throttled Daring lightly.

“Now, Raven, erase that dangerous idea from your head. Continue!” Grimm said. 

“I have to go,” Raven said as she ran off. 

“What?!” Apple asked. 

“But the rules are... The rules!” Grimm said. 

“Um, what happens if you don’t take the pledge?” Akaya asked Apple.

“Something really bad happens to you,” she said. 

“Oh.” Akaya looked at the podium nervously. Apple ran to the Enchanted Forest and cried.

And so Apple took refuge that night in the Enchanted Forest, wondering what would become of her destiny should Raven not follow hers.

Apple gasped as the Headmaster appeared right in front of her.

“Oh! Headmaster Grimm?” she said. 

“Forgive me for startling you, my dear. I need you to keep an eye on your roommate, Raven. We must follow the paths set out before us. It's the only way to keep our world safe. Please, watch Raven and convince her of this. I know you'll do whatever it takes,” Grimm said. 

“I'll...” The Headmaster was gone before Apple could finish her sentence.

And so, on the grave portent about to befall Ever After High...

Must you always be so dramatic?

Must you always ruin my ominous endings? I mean...

You're always taking the Royal side...

I'm known for my endings...

~~~~

Sora and the others watched as a large cloud of darkness was approaching them. Akaya was holding a crying Sayo in her arms. 

“What can we do?” Akaya asked.

“Nothing. We’ve lost,” Sora said. The cloud of darkness invaded their home and everyone was transported to another world, far away from their original one. 

[fans-of-fiction]

Birds Don’t Float, They Fly - Stanley Uris x Reader(IT)

This is honestly the best shit I’ve ever written. Not to sound pretentious, but for once I’m proud. ok enjoy <3

Prompt - Stan’s loved you since you saved him from Bowers, but he was never able to tell you until Stan and the Losers have a brush with It. You’re the only one who can calm Stanley down after he’s attacked, giving him the chance to express his feelings.

Warnings - Swearing (you know, Richie), sex references (that trashmouth), 

A/N -  Told from Stan’s POV. There’s a flashback in the timeline. Italics = Internal Thought. ‘Italics+Quotes = Past Quote.’ You’re a part of the Losers Club, hun. <3

Words ~ 5341

Summer 1989

The wind whipped past my ears and pulled at my button-up as we⎯minus Bill⎯biked to Neibolt. My feet were spinning around the gears of my bike faster than I would have liked, but I told myself it didn’t matter if Bill was going to hurt himself trying to fight this imaginary monster. We all turned down Neibolt Street like a flock of Geese that began migrating too late in the season, flying with speed for fear of what would happen if we stayed where we were.

Arriving at the withering building, Beverly spotted Bill walking up the front steps and began to yell for him. “Bill! Bill, you can’t go in there alone!” She skidded her bike to a halt, hopped off, and let it hit the street with a metallic clank.

I stopped my bike, got off quickly, and threw the kickstand down. As soon as I looked up from the pavement my eyes locked with Y/N’s and for a second I forgot about the dark threat of the house. I’d fight any made-up monster if it gave me the fucking courage to ask her out. I wish I had done it the first day I met her, but Bowers had made me feel like such a pussy that I don’t think I’d be able to give Bush the time of day.

Spring 1989

School had just let out so the hallways were empty, but somehow I managed to walk down the same one with Henry and his goons. In every other situation, I would have walked away, but Victor Criss had found a dead robin outside and those assholes were kicking it around with their engineer boots. I wanted so badly to turn and leave but Belch Huggins had delivered a kick so nasty I had felt it in my own gut.

“Hey! Leave the bird alone!” I squawked loudly enough to interrupt their laughter. The words hung in the air, unbelonging, like a burp in a silent Bar Mitzvah.

Henry turned to me with a look in his eyes that screamed he was in the mood to break something bigger than a bird and he yelled with such ferocity it was nearly a screech. “You wanna take its place, fucker? Want us to kick you around instead?” Belch and Victor laughed at Henry’s witty slap, but I wasn’t laughing. I could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of my neck. They were maybe forty feet away. If I run now, I thought. Maybe I’ll have a chance.

So without wasting any time I turned and bolted, sprinting down the hallway with two thoughts in my head. Don’t get caught by Henry and Fuck, my lungs hurt. Is this how Eddie feels? I ran as fast as my feet would carry me, ducking down hallways. With one hand on my kippah, I turned around a corner, hoping that the soles of my shoes held up, which they did. They carried me around the corner but not the girl carrying her books. I managed to crash right into her. Books flew and folders opened, dumping papers everywhere as she threw her arms up in surprise and discontent.

“What the-” She yelled angrily, staring down at what was once in her hands. She looked up at me and our eyes locked, giving her time to survey my terrified expression and finish her complaint. “What the fuck, dude.” She said, slightly softer, less angry. “Who are you running from, bolting down the hallway like that?”

As if they heard her ask, Bowers’ footsteps grew louder. “Come here you Jewish freak!” Belch Huggins yelled. I turned around expecting to see Bowers. Suddenly it was as if someone pressed the fast-forward on my life. Everything sped up and I knew that if I got caught I’d be dead meat, but something stopped me from running.

I turned back to the girl, not wanting to leave her with the mess I made, but when I looked at her again, any trace of anger had fled from her face. Instead, it was a look of pity, with an almost unnoticeable undertone of fear. “Bowers?” She asked quickly, but quietly. I nodded. She looked behind me, behind herself, and then to her left before talking again. “Get in a locker.” She could see that I was confused, so taking my hand in hers she pulled me to the lockers. “If you trust me, you’ll get in and you’ll stay quiet.”

She let go of my hand as I got in. I felt a sudden emptiness below my wrist as if she took my own hand with hers before closing the door. I could see through the slits in the metal that she quickly knelt beside her papers, just in time for Henry to nearly run her over. All three of them came close to taking a tumble but they managed to stop and simply stare at the mess.

“Jesus, Bowers,” She spoke, but the voice wasn’t hers. At least not the one that I knew. She sounded so full of confidence and typical disgust that if I had my eyes closed I would have assumed it was Greta Bowie. “Late for your tea party?”

Victor scoffed. Belch giggled. Henry glared. “Where’d he go?”

“Where’d who go, Henry? Your boyfriend?” Henry stepped forward onto one of her papers and began to talk but Y/N put one hand flat on his chest and pushed him back slowly. I was taken aback by her courage. It was like I’d been looking at Y/N in the dark and someone just threw open the blinds. I saw how her face curved and how her hair flowed. All of a sudden I wanted nothing more than to throw open the locker door, grab her by the waist, and pull her in close, but the gang was still there, so I was still trapped.

Victor and Belch began to look agitated, like Henry was fanning the embers under their asses. “We’re looking for Stanley Urine.” Victor squeaked. I winced at the mocking name. They’d been using it since the third grade. I didn’t want Y/N to know me as Stanley Urine, the cowering boy she shoved in a locker. No, not like that. “Real ugly, Boy-Scout lookin’ thing. Seen Him?”

Y/N’s voiced adopted a fresh tone of shock. “Wait,” She held her hand up above her head, palm down. “‘Bout this tall, pressed shorts, curly hair, running like a maniac?” I furrowed my brows in confusion. What was she doing? All three stared at her with reignited rage bubbling in their veins. They nodded their heads furiously. “That asshole came barreling around the corner, knocked my books out of my hands, then took off.” Suddenly it made sense. She was playing them like harp strings.

Belch spoke first. “Where the fuck did he go then?!”

Y/N raised a pointed finger and directed their attention to the exit doors twenty feet in front of her, in behind them. “He skid out those doors. Looked like he was heading for the East field. Playground maybe.”

Without saying another word the bullies took off. Before throwing open the doors, Victor turned to Henry and yelled too loudly for his own good, “That’s the one you like, Henry?” Who only retaliated by giving him a swift kick in the ass before grinding up the dirt of the east field.

Y/N stuck her tongue out and made a retching sound before walking over and opening the locker I was in. I must’ve looked pathetic cause she let a little chuckle echo through her nose. “Sorry I called you an asshole. I had to play into it.” She was being genuine. For a second I wondered why she bothered to help me at all, but she brought me back to reality with her soft, calm voice. A voice too calm for someone who just went toe-to-toe with Bowers. “It’s Stanley, right?”

I chuckled and managed to talk. “Yeah, Stanley Uris. But my friends call me Stan.”

Y/N smiled. “I’d love to hold that honor, Stan.” She laughed. “But I knew it couldn’t have been Urine.”

That time we laughed together, then I noticed her books and papers were still scattered. “Here,” I offered, kneeling. “Let me get these for you.” I expected her to stand while I handed her papers, but she knelt down beside me. Occasionally we would reach for the same paper and our arms would brush⎯Y/N, I thought⎯ or we would look up at the same time and lock eyes⎯Y/N Uris, I thought.

We had collected everything and stood up in unison before Y/N spoke again. “Thanks for helping me collect my things.” She said quietly, almost bashfully. Was she being shy? In front of me? But not Bowers? You’re so confusing, I thought. I think I’m in love. “Well, I guess I should head on my way then.” She said, softer this time. As if she didn’t want to say it at all.

“Oh,” I choked. “Yeah, me too.” We both nodded but remained stationary, neither willing to move away. Even if you can’t ask her out, don’t let her go, Stupid. “Actually,” I said with the last sliver of pride I had after that fiasco. “I’m going to meet my friends in the barrens. If you have nothing better to do, I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

Y/N smiled so hard her eyes crinkled. “I’d love to, Stan.”

So we walked to the West entrance, away from Bowers and his goons. I flicked up the kickstand of my bike and with Y/N sitting on the handlebars, we were off to meet the losers.

We found the group in the usual spot and I explained what happened at the school. Most of the story was made up of Richie’s commentary, but everyone fell silent when I told them how Y/N handled Bowers

Bill spoke first. “Wuh-well, it’s n-nice to m-m-meet you, Y/N.” He stuttered.

“Mhmm, it’ll be nice to have another girl in the group.” Beverly joked, elbowing Eddie, who continued to stare.

“Yeah,” Ritchie pulled his glasses from his face and wiped the condensation off on his shirt, looking Y/N up and down. “I agree.”

Y/N was beginning to blush, but something Beverly said stuck out in my head. “In the group?” I repeated. “You mean, you guys are cool if she-”

“Joins the Losers Club?” Mike interrupted. “Please do.”

The Losers murmured in agreement and Y/N smiled. It was one of the wide ones that made her eyes crinkle.

And so we were eight.

Summer 1989

“Stan, would you stop staring at Y/N and come grab a stick?”

I turned to Eddie, my eyebrows furrowed in frustration, my cheeks red in embarrassment. He matched my expression and then threw up his eyebrows, as if to say “Yeah, Stan. I can do that too. Now get over here.” I turned to Y/N. She smiled and shook her head before walking past me to the huddled group of losers.

Mike had found and cut eight tiny sticks, all at different lengths. “Everyone chooses a stick. Longest stick stays watch. Deal?” Everyone nodded and murmured mhmm.

Richie was the first to draw. The twig he drew was about the length of his pinkie. “Fuck.” He mumbled as he turned his head to the house. He looked up at it as if the dark, solemn house was a librarian, peering over his shoulder to find him drawing dicks on the cover of Lord of the Flies. Richie shook his head. “Man, I can’t believe I pulled the short straw. You guys are lucky you’re not measuring dicks.”

“Shu-sh-shut up, Richie.” Bill stuttered.

Y/N chuckled and everyone’s heads turned. We stared because for the first time in forever, laughter felt foreign. None of us had laughed in so long. Too long. We were all so intimidated by what may or may not lie in that dead house that we forgot to have fun. Isn’t that what summer’s all about? Having fun?

Y/N noticed everyone’s eyes and promptly figured out why they were staring. “You guys know what?” She said, boldly, in her Greta Bowie voice. “I’m not scared of this house. I feel the same way about going into this house as I feel about doing homework. Sure it’s daunting, but only cause I have no clue what the fuck’s going on. But once it’s done, I can enjoy my summer. And that’s what I intend to do.” She reached towards the small bundle in Mike’s hand and pulled out a twig. It was half the size of her forearm.

“That’s the longest one,” Mike said. Half appalled, half annoyed.

“Well, fuck.” She mumbled. I chuckled. It felt odd, like a forced burp, but I chuckled. Then I laughed. Y/N looked at me and began to laugh too. Then Richie. And Beverly. And suddenly the losers were laughing. All of us were laughing in the dead brush of the Neibolt property, totally forgetting any burden we carried. We felt like kids again.

Though none of us were passionate about running into crackhead houses, but we could now all agree that we’d be happy to go in together. Ben took a deep breath. “I guess that settles it. Y/N stays watch, the rest of us go in.”

The group nodded, and though the mystery contents of Neibolt should have been my priority, I couldn’t take my eyes off Y/N. Even in the face of death, I thought. She’s just so stunning. 

Death. The word tumbled around in my head like a brick in a dryer, before I clenched my fists and pushed it out. There is no monster in that house, I assured myself. No death. No need to worry, Stan. Don’t be fucking stupid. With a deep breath and another glance at Y/N, I took up the front steps of Neibolt, leading the losers.

“You go, Stanley the Manly.” Richie chirped smugly. “Let’s go fight Count Chocula.”

I turned around, unable to leave Richie uncorrected. “We’re not going to fight anything, Richie. We’re going to prove that there is no monster.”

Richie only chuckled and put on a British accent. “Right sir, good ‘ol chap. Let us go. Pip pip cheerio.”

I put my hand on the cold doorknob, twisted, and opened the casket on fear.

Neibolt smelt damp and dark, as if the cellar grew and consumed the whole house. The dust on the windows tinted the sun orange, so that what little light made it through illuminated the floor in a warm, dead glow that resembled a rotting pumpkin.

The group of losers was the only source of heat in the house. “I feel like this place is sucking out my soul,” Eddie said quietly, as if he was afraid something would hear him.

“Are you saying you would rather have it suck your-“

“Richie!” Eddie yelped, only no one laughed this time. Eddie was right. There was something about this house. Something dark.

I clenched my fists again. Don’t be stupid, Stan. Something like that isn’t empirically possible. But then I heard it. It sounded low and soft, like a woman humming a sick child to sleep. The humming flowed through the air and into my soul, so that it no longer sounded like humming. It was my mother shouting my name. It was my scout leader calling us in. It was Ms.Douglas, a curled finger pointing at my chest, commanding a solution out of me, and I had no choice but to answer.

I followed the sound as if it was a trail of candy and I was a little child lost in the woods. Any traces of my friends were blurred in my mind by the filter of pure and simple curiosity. I trailed out of the foyer and down a long hallway before I lost the sound entirely. I turned my head, spinning in circles trying to pinpoint the tune, but it was gone. It wasn’t until I spun to face the way I came before I heard the creaking. I turned to face the door again. The creaks and groans sounded unnatural, fake, as if they were playing through an old walkman. But then the knob began to turn.

It spun to the left, then to the right before making a final full turn to the left. It’s Richie. My brain exclaimed, unaccepting of what it what seeing and hearing. This isn’t real. It’s just Richie. It’s a prank. It’s not real, Stan. It’s not-

The door made a sound that resembled a dying cat as the old bolts wailed together, struggling to hold up the ancient wooden door as it swung open slowly, regretfully. As if the door knew it was releasing something bad. Something evil.

You’re being stupid. There’s no evil. My thoughts cried. Stand your ground, Stanley. Be a man.

The door stopped opening. No light shone through. The room that lay beyond the door was dark and draining. ‘I feel like this place is sucking out my soul.’ Eddie had said. All I could do was agree with him, though I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to agree with Eddie, because admitting that this hell-hole was draining the life out of me was admitting that I was scared.

Turning away from the open door, I began took a quick step down the hall before I saw her. Y/N. Standing at the end of the scuffed, peeling floorboards. She was standing still, looking at me as if she were scared. Seeing her in here made me feel worse than any evil could. Imagining that this house could bring her pain opened up a black pit deep in my stomach, allowing a red-hot ache to flow over my insides. If this dark, decrepit house even dared to bring her fear, I’d burn the whole thing down.

“Y/N?” I called quietly, concern bleeding through my fake confidence. “Y/N aren’t you supposed to be on watch?”

“I couldn’t stay there, Stan.” She cooed. “Not without you.” I was so distracted by her silky voice that I almost didn’t notice how unnatural she sounded. Her voice resembled the creaks and groans. Fake. Not real. But like the humming, it was enticing. Moving towards Y/N was like moving towards road-kill. If you really valued your peace of mind, then you would stay away…but in the end, curiosity grabs you by the balls, and you do anything but stay away.

“Why would you want to come in here?” I joked in an effort to mask my own fear. “This garbage dump is the last place I’d want to be.”

She took a step closer to me. She was so close that I could smell her shampoo. I could have kissed her if curiosity would give me my manhood back. “It’s no dump if you’re here, Stan.” She was practically singing, and I didn’t mind.

“Ha, uh. Yeah.” I mumbled. “Did someone take your place? I’d hate if the police found us snooping around-”

“We don’t have to worry about adults, Stanley.” She interrupted. She wasn’t singing now. She was nearly whispering through her teeth. She put one hand on the back of my neck, the other under my arm placing it flat on my back, pulling me in. “No one’ll find us here, Stanley. No one. We won’t be found, Stanley. No no no.”

She trailed off as she rested her head on my shoulder, but with each sentence she sounded less and less real. It was as if her voice were coming through the radio and someone was slowly turning the dial to the static grey area in between stations. The feeling of worry began to bleed through the admiration. Y/N was no longer a source of heat. I could feel her change in my arms. She became the same dark emptiness that was draining Eddie. Draining me. Draining all of us. Y/N became Neibolt.

I quickly tried to pull away, but Y/N tightened her grip. Her arms were clamped around me, unyielding and ungiving. She spoke again but there was no music left in her voice, no tune, no hum. It was all static. All darkness. “We don’t need to leave Stan. We can stay. We can float. We’ll all float. We’ll all float!”

I yelped and squirmed and twisted in her grip. The sweat that made its way through my button-up made me just slippery enough. I gave one final twist, working my arms under hers. I ducked my head and pushed her back, throwing her off.

No. No, it wasn’t her. The carcass that stood in front of me wasn’t Y/N. It looked like her. Exactly like her. Except her eyes were glazed over, frosted like a sheet of ice over a dead animal. The skin on her face wasn’t radiating her characteristic glow, it was grey, dead, peeling from her face like sheets of slush off a poorly shingled roof. There was no life in her chest. Instead, her missing sternum revealed her open ribcage where black, rotten organs resigned. They looked like vegetables my mother had once left on the front steps. Our cat had gone missing, but my mother figured that if she offered food and wished hard enough, it would come back. But the cat never did, and instead, the vegetables rotted and turned black and mushy, leaving a stain of failure in front of our house.

It was only looking down at my hands that I noticed the blood and chest tissue that covered my fingers. I screamed and kept screaming. I couldn’t stop forcing the sound out. I screamed so hard that my diaphragm hurt. I figured the force and the stench of Y/N’s rotting corpse would make me puke, but somehow I kept it down. I wouldn’t have cared if I puked. I could have thrown up a kidney and I wouldn’t care, because all I could see was Y/N. It was her voice I heard. It was her corpse I saw. It was her blood that coated my hands, and it was real. It was all real.

I stared and screamed some more. I could hear the losers yelling but it was all so distant. Y/N was so close. So close and so real. So real. “Come float with me. Won’t you, Stanley?” She whispered. She was quiet, so quiet, but her voice was a shriek.

And so was mine. I screamed, one final time, and then the world went black.

When I woke up everything was shaking. Bobbing? I turned my head to find Mike’s chest. I glanced at my feet and found Ben and Beverly, each with a leg in their arms. The losers were carrying me.

“Hu-hey, g-g-guys!” Bill managed to squawk. “S-Stan’s awake! P-Put him d-down on the g-guh-grass.”

I felt them put me down on the grass. It tickled the back of my neck but I didn’t care. I looked straight up at the sky. The sun stabbed at my eyes, but it also warmed my face. It made me feel warm. Alive. She’s not alive anymore, my head screamed. I think Eddie asked me a question. He was muttering something about concussions, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t give two shits. Y/N was dead. She was my cat. Gone.

When I closed my eyes I could still see her hair, glowing under the fluorescents that illuminated her and Bower’s gang. I could still feel her warmth and smell her perfume and I remembered that one Friday night in June. The losers were having a sleepover, but I had a nightmare. One that I can’t even remember now, but it shook me to the point of tears. Y/N had woken me up and pulled my head softly into her chest. “It’s okay, Stan.” She cooed, as if I was an injured baby bird. “It was only a nightmare, Stan. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, Stanley.”

If I listened hard enough I could still hear her voice. ‘Stan.’ I could hear her call. ‘Stan. Stanley.’ “Stanley!” Suddenly I opened my eyes. “Stanley open your eyes. Oh! Stan look at me. Look at me, Stan.” My eyes were frantic. It took a few seconds for my brain to process what I was seeing. It was Y/N, standing above me. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. “Stan? Stan! Holy shit I thought you were over the hedge! What happened in there?”

She wasn’t real. She couldn’t be real. Her blood, Stan. The blood. That was real. I sat up, screamed and pushed myself back. It wasn’t Y/N. It couldn’t be Y/N. I stared at her. I stared and stared, expecting her to die in front of me again. The static spun around and around in my head like a demonic merry-go-round. ‘We’ll all float. We’ll all float.’ “We’ll all float,” I muttered.

Y/N looked so concerned. If that was even Y/N. Could it be? Was there any empirical way? “Stan, what-”

“You said we were all going to float.” I wheezed. “You’re dead, Y/N. You were dead.”

Ben stepped forward. “Stan, what do you mean?” I turned my head and stared at him. I was frantic and he must have seen it because he looked down at me with pity. 

Beverly put a hand on his shoulder. “Y/N never came inside until you screamed, Stanley. By the time she got to you, you were unconscious.” Some of the losers nodded, the others murmured mhmm’s.

I turned back to Y/N. More tears trailed down her cheeks, wetting the canals that led to her chin and down her neck. She stretched a hand out. I didn’t take it. I couldn’t take it. My world was upside down. “That’s impossible.” I croaked. She took her hand back. “That’s not possible. You were-” I could feel the tears welling up my eyes. They started to trickle down my hot cheeks. “You were dead, Y/N. I felt you in my arms. Your eyes, your face, your-your-” I stared down at my hands. They weren’t clean on account of all the dirt, but there was no blood. No stains. No trace of Y/N. I started to cry harder. I looked up at her again, my eyes cloudy with water. It was as if I was looking at her through the bottom of a coke bottle.

The tears had stopped falling down her cheeks when she knelt beside me. She extended her hand out again. Palm up, as if offering something. A little sanity maybe. “Feel my hand, Stan.” I kept looking at her. I blinked tears out of my eyes so I could see her fully. Clearly. I looked at her hand. I was so reluctant. I was scared that if I felt her hand the skin would peel off and It would happen all over again, but there was something about her now. There was no static in her voice. It wasn’t tainted with a hum either. It was just her. It was Y/N. Could it be Y/N? It had to be. I think.

It was the uncertainty that was rotting inside me. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know. I had always known before this. Before Neibolt. Before It. I knew how to treat Poison Ivy. I knew not to fuck with Henry Bowers. I knew I was in love with Y/N. But now I didn’t know if she was even real anymore. I didn’t know if what I was seeing was real. I didn’t know if I should cry tears of joy because she was alive or cry myself into madness because she was worm-food. I didn’t know. I had to know. I had to find out, so I took her hand.

It was warm and inviting. It was real. This was real. This. Y/N smiled. That was real. She offered her other hand. I took it. That was real. Real. Real real real. She was real. It was almost too good to be true. “But you said we were going to float, Y/N. You were in there. I couldn’t have imagined it, Y/N. It was so-”

“Real?” She let out a chuckle. It was out of place but I didn’t argue with it. “All of our nightmares feel real until we wake up, but you’re awake now, Stan, so good morning. It’s 92 degrees in sunny Derry, Maine. A great day to go biking with friends and forget about death houses.”

I chuckled. She always knew how to make me forget what I needed to forget. Forget things like evil houses. Death houses. Dead dead houses. She was dead. “You were dead,” I mumbled. The panic was beginning to bubble violently now. It was sloshing over my bearable limit, over the rim of the pot of my life. “We’re gonna die.” I choked. “We’re all going to float. We’re gonna-”

The words stopped. They wouldn’t come out. I heard Richie make a gagging sound, but it was distant and I was distracted by Y/N anyway. She was close. So close I could have-

I knew why the words wouldn’t come out. Y/N had grabbed me by the collar and pulled me in. Her lips were locked to mine. I could smell her shampoo, her perfume, her chapstick. I could feel her warmth. I could feel her nose against mine. I could see that her eyes were closed. She meant this. She was real and she meant this. So real.

She pulled away and her eyes fluttered open. Those stunning eyes. They weren’t dead. They weren’t iced over like dead-meat in a freezer. They were as vibrant as ever and they drew me in. I was in such a trance that I almost didn’t notice her speak. Her voice was a sweet melody that reminded you of a warm summer day, just like this one.

“We won’t float, Stan. Never. You, me, the losers. We’re birds, Stan. Birds don’t float, they fly.” Y/N stood up. Taking my hand in hers, pulling me up off the dead acidic soil. “So how about we fly?”

I smiled. It was a genuine smile. Y/N had rekindled the fire. My heart burns there too. “You’re right.” I walked over to my bike, the losers watching me carefully. I kicked up the kickstand, threw my leg over, and checked my watch. “Ice-cream shop’s still open.”

The Losers club erupted in cheer. Ben ran to his bike and hopped on with surprising agility. Everyone else jogged to their bikes, pulled them up off the road, and got ready to take off. Everyone except Y/N, who walked slowly over to my bike. She stood bashfully beside me. I was close enough to kiss her. She spoke very quietly. “I’m sorry if that back there was…um. Well if it was-”

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, finally managing to cherish the kiss now that I wasn’t half dead myself. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I met you.”

Y/N chuckled bashfully. “I know.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek. Softly but surely. “Me too.” We both smiled at each other before she leaned in close again, only this time she didn’t kiss me. She only whispered in my ear. “Race you to the Ice-cream shop.” and with uncanny speed she hopped on her bike and sped off, the two of us leading the Losers Club in a mad dash on wheels. We forgot all about Neibolt speeding down that street, Bill triumphantly yelling “Hi-ho, Silver. Away!”

And down Neibolt street, through Derry, away from all the fear and the pain… we flew.

I love you all with my life and I want you to know that the IT imagines aren’t stopping here!

Peace out girl-scouts!

Love, E

(fans-of-fiction)

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 7

Here it is!

“Hello…? Yeah, Dad, we’re here. Yeah, everything’s fine. No, no, we’re at Uncle Phil’s… Mum? Yeah, she’s alright. She’s talking to him right now so I thought I might just call and tell you we’re here, for you not to worry too much… Yeah, I can put her on the phone, hold on… Mum? Dad wants you on the phone!”

“Tell him I’m coming!” Caroline looked at her brother. “Hold on Phil, Mike’s going to worry otherwise.” 

“Go ahead, Carrie.”

The sixty-odd year old woman rose from the sofa and went to the telephone, leaving her brother on his sofa. 

"Thanks, Micky, go with your Uncle, I'll be a minute." She gently tapped her son's arm and the tall man nodded.

He went to his uncle and sat on the armchair next to the sofa. The Aussie put his hat and his aviators on the coffee table.

"So, Micky, how're you? How was the flight and all? Oh by the way, here… Your mum's poured you a cup of tea while you were on the phone…”

“Oh, thanks…” Mundy took the cup that his uncle was handing him and nodded in thanks. Micky was the nickname that his family used with him. “Flight’s been bloody long. America’s so far from home and New Mexico’s not on the East coast either so, eh... I slept for most of it but Mum was a bit restless.”

“Ah, I’m not surprised. I know your Mum, she’s always been active and energetic like that.” Phil chuckled. “But all went well on your way here?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” Mundy took a sip of his tea. “Had to drive to the airport for a few hours first. Dropped the van to be delivered here soon hopefully, and then we took the plane with Mum.”

“I see. And what're you doin' now? Still hunting?" Philip drank his tea and offered some biscuits to his nephew.

"Ah, thanks. And uh, yeah, same old." Mundy smiled. "I still hunt."

"Dad still angry about it?" 

"Not really angry. He's more than used to it by now. But he'd rather I just helped in the farm, for sure." 

"Ah, can't blame him. Guns are dangerous, eh."

They nodded and both took a sip of their tea. 

"You make tea exactly like Mum." Mundy chuckled.

"Bah, y'know your mum, she didn't let me do it! She made that herself… Gosh, Caroline! I told her, you took the car for hours and then the plane for hours, you must be dead tired. But y'know how you can't reason with your mum, eh?"

"Yeah, I do…" Mundy smiled.

"So what's new back home?"

"Bah, not much… Mum and Dad are still lookin' after the chickens and geese. I help in between contracts. But you, Uncle Phil? You got injured? Mum told me it was at work…?" 

Philip nodded. 

"Yeah, y'know, bein' a policeman here ain't always easy."

"What happened?"

"Got beaten up by a group of thugs."

"Mum said something about gunshots." 

"Yeah, it was two gangs goin' at each other. Young folks, really. Such a shame to see kids like this these days. But yeah, there were a few gunshots and one caught my leg."

"Oh wow…" Mundy nodded. "When did that happen?" 

"About a few weeks ago now…? Yeah, a couple of weeks ago." 

"And you still walk with a cane and a limp, eh?" Mundy asked, nodding at the cane resting against the side of the couch. 

"Yeah…" Philip frowned and scratched his bushy moustache. "Goin' through therapy, but y'know, I ain't young anymore so it'll take a long time before it'll go back to normal."

"That what the doctors said?" 

"Yeah." Philip nodded. "They said I might even retire before it's complete history." 

"Oh, bugger… Can you work again at least or…?" 

"Well, I'll only do desk stuff but no field work." Philip seemed saddened by it. 

"Ah, I'm sorry, Uncle Phil…" Mundy scratched his short, brown hair.

"Bah, I was due to retire in a few months, so it doesn't change much. Just means I can take it easy a few months in advance." 

"But you really liked your job, right?" Mundy asked. 

"Oh yeah, as much as you yours." 

They smiled and nodded at each other. Caroline came back and sat next to her brother on the sofa. 

"Alright, Mike's alright. I told him about the van." She said, looking at her son, Mundy. 

"What's wrong with it?" Philip asked. 

"They said it's gonna arrive in a week or so." Caroline answered. "They’re having delays for some reason."

"You're welcome to use my car whenever you need, eh." Philip offered. “You didn’t need to get Mike’s van over the ocean.”

"Oh, thanks, Phil'. It'll come in handy, I'm sure. And it’s Micky’s van now." She chuckled and was interrupted by Philip's dog coming to lay on Mundy's lap. 

"Marty, get off of Micky's lap, you big boy…!" 

Marty was a German shepherd. He was Philip's life companion for the past decade now. 

"He's fine, Uncle Phil, let him do… Yeah, good boy…!" Mundy was spoiling the dog with pets and scratches. The canine went to fetch a toy and brought it to the Aussie. 

"You can take him to the backyard and play there with him if you want, Micky." 

"Oh, for sure, c'mon, let's go, big boy…!" Mundy collected his hat and aviators from the coffee table before he exited the living-room through the French window, closely followed by the dog. 

That left Caroline and Philip chatting together. 

"Micky's told me Mike still doesn't like his huntin', eh?" Philip asked and his sister nodded. 

“To be honest, we never agreed to it or liked the idea. It’s dangerous. I mean, you’re livin’ proof that carryin’ a gun can get you at the wrong end of another one.”

“Yeah, but he’s not huntin’ people, is he? They're just beasts.”

“Beasts that could rip your leg off better than that bullet you took, Phil’.” Caroline sipped on her tea. “Nah, we’ve tried to get him interested in anything else. We got him to play in a pub.”

“Play?” Phil repeated.

“The sax. He’s quite decent.” Caroline explained and pushed her pink glasses back up her nose. 

“But?” Phil anticipated.

“But he likes to do it on the side… He really likes huntin’ and he’s the best at it. He’s now got a reputation. Sometimes, he says he has work, takes the van and drives off for days. We don’t know where he goes, what he does, but he comes back with heaps of money…!”

“You don’t think he’s doin’ anything dodgy, is he?” Phil asked, his policeman instincts kicking in.

“I don’t know. We’ve asked him countless times and he always says that it’s the price for capturing rare game but…” Caroline shook her head. “I can’t help but think there’s more to it. Once, the police came along with some men who didn’t look like regular police. They took him away to have a chat. In the end, he told us he landed a contract that paid generously, and oh boy it did! We redid part of the house with that money…! But what the job was exactly, he couldn’t tell us. He said the police asked him to be quiet about it.”

“Well if it’s the police askin’ and he’s free, that means he helped them, he wasn’t against them, so I wouldn’t worry.”

“I can’t help it…” Caroline raised her eyes and saw Mundy play with the dog through the French window.

"Hey, Carrie, the boy's a grown up man now. And if the police comes for him to work, that means he's real good… How old is he now?"

"Almost forty."

"And still livin' with you and Mike?" 

"Nah, yeah…" 

"He doesn't wanna go?" Phil asked. 

"I don't know. We never really discussed it."

“D’you think he does the huntin' work only for the money? If he earns a lot of it, he might just continue it for the cash.” Phil asked.

“Yeah, nah.” Caroline shook her head. “It's not for the money. He takes a lot of work for free…"

"For free? Hell…" Phil chuckled. "And what about, y'know, findin' a good woman and all?" 

"Oh God, if only I knew what was goin' on with him…" Caroline shook her head. "He never brings anyone home and he never talks about these things. Even with his dad. He's never, y'know, just checked a sheila out or let his eyes linger. It's like he doesn't feel a thing for them."

"I can ask. Maybe he can't talk to y'all about it but is happy to open up to someone else?"

"Maybe."

There was a pause. 

"He doesn't seem too unhappy about it all, eh?" Phil nodded to Mundy who was playing fetch with Marty. 

"Nah, he doesn't but… We'd love to see him bring someone home, y'know. I wonder if he does have someone but just hides it."

"Why would he do that?" 

"I don't know. Last time he talked about a pretty sheila, he was back in primary school. Since then, it's been different." 

"Hm." Phil finished his tea. "And what about Mike? How's he? You left him alone to come and see me?"

Caroline shook her head.

"Yeah, nah, he’s got his brother over and it’s rugby season. I just have to call them to stay away from havin’ barbies everyday.” She chuckled. 

“Oh I’m sure he’ll be reasonable.” Phil joined her chuckles. 

“Yeah, as long as I call him enough…!”

“I’m happy you could visit, Carrie.”

Brother and sister exchanged smiles. 

“It’s been a while since we last saw each other. Micky was much younger. He’s a man and a half now. And not bad-lookin’ at all!” Phil added.

“Yeah, he’s a fine bloke. And you need someone to help with that leg of yours… You should have called and told me right when it happened! Why wait a few weeks?”

“Yeah, like I’d stop middle of the shootin’ to go to the nearest phone, call in Oz’ and tell you about it…!” Phil joked and chuckled.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Phil..!”

“I know, I know, just jokin’. But I just didn’t want to scare y’all. You’re far from me and if I’d called you and said ‘oh hey, Carrie, I just got shot but everythin’s fine’, you'd have jumped in the first plane with your old age and your even older Mike to come and see me…!”

“Oi, you’re older than me and Mike’s your age!” She answered with a laugh. “Besides, here I am anyway with Micky.”

“Yeah, thanks for visitin’, really. I’m sure you’ll help a lot.”

“Of course I will…!”

“But yeah, you convinced Micky to come and Mike to stay?” Phil asked, his tone coming back to being a bit more serious.

“To be honest…” Caroline cast a glance over to Mundy. He was busy and far in the backyard, beyond the French window. In a word, he was out of earshot. “We had to kind of push him.”

“Push him to do what?”

“To come with me.” Caroline explained. 

“He wanted to stay with his Dad?”

“Yeah, nah, he just… He didn’t wanna stay with his Dad per se, but he likes to stick to the van. He practically lives there, you know, when he disappears off.”

“Ah, I see.” Phil nodded. “But don’t worry, Carrie. I’d be proud if I were you.”

“What? Why?” She raised a curious eyebrow.

“If the police come to him for help, he’s really good.” The old man poured more tea for his sister and himself. “We don’t get other folks to do our job, and if we ever do, we’re either forced to, or they’re so good that it hurts for us to admit it. Micky might be both.”

Caroline nodded but bobbed her head left and right.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Why force him to come?”

“I’m old, Phil, and I don’t like travellin’ that much.”

“Neither does he, from what you’re tellin’ me.”

“Yeah but... “

“Carrie?”

Caroline raised her eyes to her elder brother.

“I know you’re hidin’ somethin’. Tell me.”

She bit her lip and looked through the window again. Mundy was still absorbed in whatever he was doing with the dog.

“I’m a bit worried. I think he… He might be happy at work but…”

“But what?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t even know…!”

-- A few days later --

“Here, let me help…”

“Nah, it’s alright, Micky.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! Look, I just need to put the cane first, then this leg and - oof!- this one…! Ah, thanks, son.”

  Mundy helped his uncle get in the car anyway. 

“Alright, you’ll have to guide me, Uncle Phil.” The younger man hopped in the car.

“Yeah, it’s not too far. Let’s get to the café that I like and you’ll tell me what you think of their coffee, yeah?”

“Mum’s not comin’?” Mundy asked.

“Nah, she wants some quiet time without boys ruinin’ her cleanin’ the house. I got told off this mornin’ cause the house wasn’t clean enough for her standards!” 

“Sounds like Mum alright.” Both chuckled and Mundy adjusted the mirrors and the driver’s seat, fastening his seatbelt.

“Alright, let’s go, son.”

The drive was quiet. Phil told his nephew about the neighbourhood and how it had changed over the years, on the few occasions that they stopped at a red light. 

“Where can we park?”

“Behind the thing, take it left here… And there.”

Mundy parked and went around to help his uncle out. 

“The place looks nice and cosy, eh?” The young man said.

“Yeah, that’s why I like it.” Philip answered and they made their way in. “Here, that’s my table.”

The gentle smell of coffee wrapped them up as Mundy discovered the decor. Cosy was the right word for it. It practically looked like a living-room with the sofas and fireplace, the coffee table and magazines. The rest of the room had the classic restaurant/café layout with tables and chairs but that living-room corner looked very comfortable indeed. The walls were wooden and the beams of dark wood in the ceiling were clearly quite old. It reinforced the overall rustic yet familiar atmosphere.

“Oh hey, Phil!” The café owner greeted him.

“Hey Bob, how are ya?”

“Alright. Who’s this friend with you?” Bob asked as he made his way to Philip and his younger nephew. He was a big man in his late fifties for sure. Salt and pepper hair with more salt than pepper already and big square glasses on a nose that went with the proportions of the large man. Bob wore an apron with the colors and logo of the café and threw the tea towel he was holding on his shoulder.

“That here's my nephew, Micky. He’s come with his Mum to help out, while my bad leg heals up.”

“Oh, brilliant! Where are you guys from?” Bob looked at Mundy who took a seat opposite his uncle. He removed his hat but kept the aviators on. 

“From Australia.”

“That’s quite the trip, eh?”

“Yeah.” Mundy smiled.

“Alrighty then, I’ll let you make up your mind. Coffee’s on me, Phil. No, no, don’t even try to argue!” 

The three men exchanged a chuckle.

“Alright, Bobby, can you give us your classic. Make it two, I want the kid here to try it. Careful, he knows his way around coffees, eh?” Philip answered. 

“Sure thing! Two of Phil’s usual, on their way…!” Bob left Phil and his nephew in peace.

“So, how d’you find America so far, Micky?”

“Not so different from home. You just drive on the right, which confused me a bit but now I think I’m getting used to it.”

“Here, two classics. Enjoy, folks!” Bob put the two cups on the table and added a packet of chocolate for each before leaving them. 

Mundy and Phil were sitting in a corner of the café, next to the window. 

“Go ahead, son, and tell me.”

Mundy took a careful sip and let it invade his mouth, cover his palate and hug his tongue warmly. It was the beginning of October now and the weather was colder than in his native Australia, so the hot coffee was very welcome. 

“Mh… I like it.”

“Yeah?” Phil insisted.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s not too strong or bitter. It’s well balanced without being fruity or too sweet.”

“Gosh, listen to you talk,...!” Phil laughed. “You sound like one of those so called experts they bring on TV or somethin’, heh.”

“I’m just used to drinkin’ loads of coffee.” Mundy explained.

“Drink it when you work?”

“Yeah, all the time.” Mundy nodded and smiled. “I really like it.”

“Even when you’re in the desert, scorchin’ sun and all?” Phil asked.

“Oh yeah, absolutely.” Mundy answered. “It’s really good to drink something hot when it's hot. Helps you sweat and regulate your body temperature. They do that in the Sahara, only with tea and not coffee.”

“Right, right, I didn’t know that, but now that you say it, it kinda makes sense. So talkin’ about your work, tell me what it’s like.”

“What?” Mundy chuckled.

“You a hunter, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So tell me how and what you hunt, son!”

“Oh, uh, you sure?” Mundy asked, raising a surprised eyebrow.

“O’course! Why d’you sound shocked?”

“Cause Mum and Dad don’t really like what I’m doin’ so I don’t really uh… I’m not used to talkin’ about it, is all.” Mundy lowered his head, as if ashamed.

“Yeah and I understand your folks but I’m not them. Besides, I’m a policeman. I’m sure your Mum doesn’t like my job either for the same reason she’s not fond of yours.”

“Fair, yeah.” Mundy nodded, raising his head back for his eyes to meet with his uncle’s.

“So, go ahead! Tell me everythin’!”

Seeing his uncle’s enthusiasm made him blush for an instant. Mundy felt put on the spot. He looked around them and the other customers in the café didn’t pay the last bit of attention to them. He smiled and took a bit of air before starting.

[lu-undy]

Chapter 32 - SBT

Here it is!

"Hey, Sir! You're M, right?" 

Mundy looked down, a few kids had run to him as he was about to hop on his van after his sandwich. 

"Yeah, that's me."

"We got a message from L for you. He says to go to Maurice's street and be there at 3pm sharp!" 

Mundy rolled his eyes at the 'sharp'. Yep, that did look like something that posh snob would say alright.

"That's in…" He looked at his watch. "Half an hour. Alright, I'll be there, thanks kids." 

"You're welcome, bye!" 

And the kids darted away while Mundy hopped in his van. He fastened his seatbelt and started the engine. 

"Right, off to Maurice's then…" 

He pushed the button on his radio and the song diffused in the air. It reminded him of the chat he had with Lulu, the singer. Ha, foolish Mundy thought the man would understand him. How could he, when all the sheilas who saw him admired him? Surely the man knew nothing about loneliness, he could have a different sheila wrapped around him every single night. 

Mundy glanced at his inside rear view mirror and back in front of him. 

And he was cheeky that singer! He did say that he did know what solitude meant. No! He didn't! Or maybe he did but not like Mundy. No one knew it like him, apart maybe from L. Yeah, L understood. He had lost everything a decade ago and lived like the ghost of himself ever since. Yeah, like Mundy.

The van stopped and Mundy hopped off. He leaned against the back of it and lit one of his cheap cigarettes. The contrast in quality with L's ones struck him at first. If the Frenchie's taste in clothes was odd, at least his taste in cigarettes was good. 

Mundy took a drag off of it and blew the smoke away. He had a few minutes to kill so he just stayed there, watching the kids play football in the streets, the last beggars in the queue lining up for some soup, if some was left.

Suddenly, the children all rushed to the pavement and out of their playground to the motorcycle than came in the street. Mundy's eyebrows jumped. He didn't know much about motorcycles but that was a beaut' of a thing! 

It stopped a house or so away from his van and its driver got off of it. He was dressed in a suit and tie, navy blue. 

Nah, it can't be L, can it? The bloke can't drive that.

The kids went to the driver and he crouched to be at eye-level with them. 

"Your motorcycle's amazing!" One of them said. "Can I touch it again? Please!" 

The group of kids were overly excited about the beautiful vehicle. It was slim, black with a dark red sheen. The driver opened the visor. 

"You may, and I will need you to keep an eye on it and on this…" The driver removed his helmet and Mundy realised that indeed it had been none other than L… 

"Tell Maurice that I am trusting him with it, d'accord?"

[Agreed?]

"Yeah!" The kids cheered as Lucien left his motorcycle behind and approached Mundy.

"You may close your jaw." He was smirking. "Argh, and what kind of tobacco is this?! Is it even tobacco?" Lucien swooshed the air in front of his nose while wincing. He took Mundy's cigarette from his very fingers and dropped it on the floor before crushing it under his sole. 

"Oi! That was my bloody cig'!" 

"You call that a cigarette? That was poison you were inhaling!"

"Yeah, isn't that exactly a cigarette, mate?"

"Urgh…" Lucien rolled his eyes up. "In any case, what did you see that made you drop your jaw like this…" The Frenchman looked back in the direction that Mundy had been staring at. "The motorcycle? Ah, oui, it is quite beautiful. I did not know you were a connaisseur."

"It wasn't the bike, although it looks good yeah, never seen any like it before. No, it was you with the kids." 

"Me?" Lucien repeated. "What did I do?" 

"You were bein' nice with them!" 

"Ah, and that surprised you? What do you think I am? These are only children, of course I will be nice to them!" 

"Spook, I did see you torture-mh?!" 

Lucien smacked his hand in front of Mundy's mouth. 

"Not in front of the children!" He whispered with gritted teeth before removing his gloved hand. "You are lucky they are distracted with my motorcycle…"

"Ah, yeah, right… Anyway, you wanted me here, why?" Mundy asked. 

"Because I had no idea where else we could meet. We need to have a chat somewhere calm." Lucien said. 

"Uh… We could try at Maurice's?" 

"Let us try then." 

They went in front of the house and after introducing themselves as L and M, a beggar explained to them that Maurice was actually not in and he couldn't let them in. So a few minutes later, both men were back in the dirty street. 

"You are the native here, where else can we go?" Lucien asked. 

"Uh, I don't know…" 

Lucien rolled his eyes. 

"And I thought your knowledge as an Australian would be useful…" He walked to the passenger's door on the van. He opened it and slipped in.

"Oi, oi, you stop right there!" Mundy  opened the driver's door and looked at his uninvited guest. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 

Lucien fastened his seatbelt and looked around him.

"Would you rather hop on my motorcycle? I don't imagine so, even though the seat there is infinitely more comfortable than this… Go on then, hop on and start driving, I will show you a place." 

Mundy sighed. 

"Spook, I swear…" 

The Aussie hopped in and turned the key. The van woke up and she got away from Maurice's street. Mundy took a glance at his passenger. He was sniffing the air and squinting. 

"The smell?" Mundy asked. "It's Dior, mate." 

Lucien chuckled. 

"I wish it were. Non, Christian never made such an atrocity. Continue straight."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"I told you it's Dior, not Christian or whatever. Still straight after that light?"

"Oui… Bushman, Dior is his last name, Christian is his first name." 

"What?!"

Lucien rolled up his eyes. 

"And whatever it is, it smells of apricots and he doesn't like them. Non, Christian most definitely would never design such a stench. What is it?" Lucien looked left and right, looking for the origin of the smell.

"Hold on, you talk like you know the bloke?" Mundy looked at him briefly, confused.

"I do." 

"Shut your mouth!"

Lucien chuckled. 

"Again, you are free to believe that I am lying, Bushman." He smirked. "Take it left now."

"Yeah, well…" Mundy was unsure if he was believing Lucien. "And to answer you, it's this thingy here that smells of apricots." He pointed at the apricot shaped air freshener dangling off of the inside rear view mirror. 

"Why apricot of all the smells that exist? Take it right at the next traffic light."

"Because that's what I aim for." 

"You shoot apricots in your free time?" Lucien mockingly asked. 

"Nah, you genius. There's a part of the brain that we call the apricot. Hit it with a bullet and your target dies before they know what hit them."

Lucien's eyebrows jumped. 

"We?" He asked. "Who is that? Hunters? And you may park here."

"Oh, alright. And no, not hunters…" Mundy shook his head. "Snipers." 

Lucien's eyes snapped wide. 

"You are in the army?" 

"Not exactly." Mundy parked and cut the engine. "My dad was one when he was in the army. He showed me how to use a rifle when I was hardly bigger than the damn thing."

They were in a street, the van was at a complete stop and they unfastened their seatbelts.

"But you told me your father hated guns?" Lucien asked. 

"Yeah, he hated people who came at night and stole our chicken and geese even more. And he liked hunting, he wasn't against the idea of hunting for food, just not for sports."

"Like father, like son." Lucien said. "I see where the respect and love for animals come from."

"Yeah. So he taught me how to use the bloody thing and by the time I had to go and do my service, people noticed my good aim. They tried to get me to enroll but the idea of killing people just didn't make sense to me. I refused, but that's how a lot of people called me back then, Sniper." 

Lucien smiled. 

"You went from Sniper to Bushman. I do not see an improvement there." 

"And you went from Professor Ski to Spook, I don't know who's doin' best here." 

"Pff…" They both chuckled and hopped off the van. 

Mundy followed Lucien on foot until they arrived in front of an American style diner.

"Oh, I know this place. I've been in this diner before." Mundy said.

"Really?" Lucien raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, I've had a few breakfasts here, their coffee's nice." 

They entered and a waitress came to them. 

"Hey guys - oh, L? Is that you under the mask?" 

"V, may I introduce my… partner in crime, M." 

Victoria looked at the tall man. 

"I know him, you came a few times here, haven't you?" Victoria asked. 

"Yeah, I did." 

"Yeah, you're the coffee and croissant bloke, like L. Except last time you took a muffin." 

"You have a bloody good memory." Mundy said. 

"Yeah! So, want a table for you two, or are you expecting more people?" 

"Non, just the two of us, somewhere calm, please, it is for important business." 

"Oh, I see." Victoria answered. "Go to your table, L, I'll make sure no one gets near." 

"Many thanks, V."

Bushman and Spook took a seat at the Frenchman's usual table. 

"So, what did you want to see me for?" Mundy asked. 

"First, choose something from the menu. If we are going to stay in this establishment, we might as well enjoy something to eat." 

They took a moment to make their choice. 

"I presume you had lunch already?" Lucien asked. 

"Yeah, you?" 

"Likewise. I would go for a dessert…"

"Same. The pancakes look nice." 

"I never tried them."

"Might be a lot though, wanna share?"

Lucien raised his eyes off the menu and he met with the lagoon blue ones. And for a split second, he saw it again, the man in the neatly tied ponytail, the black suit, and the shyness, the embarrassment he had to talk about his feelings. The Frenchman smiled. 

"But of course." 

Mundy smiled. 

"Aces. I'll get a coffee with that." 

"Which kind?" 

"You gonna judge me on my coffee now?" Mundy asked.

"Of course. So, what kind of coffee?" 

"I swear Spook…" Mundy shook his head and Lucien wiggled his eyebrows. "Black, there you go, happy?"

"Ooh, manly."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a sheila in case you hadn't noticed, eh." 

"Really?" Lucien played on. 

"Screw you, Spook… And you, eh? What kind of coffee d'you drink?"

Victoria came at their table, interrupting their banter. 

"So, you guys know what you're gonna get?" 

"Oui, I think so. After you." Lucien said. 

"Right so uh, we'll share the pancakes and uh, a black coffee for me. What about you, Spook?"

"Spook?" Victoria chuckled. 

"Don't you think he looks spooky with his mask?" 

"True." Victoria said. "Why are you wearing that thing, L?"

"The same reason that you are calling me L." He said. "May I have a cappuccino, señorita?" 

[Miss]

Victoria raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. 

"Alright, pancakes, a cappuccino for spooky L and a black coffee for M, is that right?"

"Non" Lucien answered. "I might be 'Spooky L', but then my friend here has to be 'Wild M'." 

"Wild M?" Both M and Victoria repeated. 

"You, Bushman, you know why and you, Victoria, you don't want to know. Now, please, we have to discuss some business." 

"Oh, sure, I'll be quick!" 

Lucien nodded in thanks and Victoria left them.

"So, are you gonna finally tell me what you want?" 

"I have a lead." Lucien said. 

"Alright, I'm listening." Mundy leaned in over the table and whispered. 

"You don't need to whisper, Bushman." Lucien shook his head with a smile. "But here is the deal: Duchemin is throwing a party next week. I can get us in." 

"What?" Mundy's eyes snapped wide. "How d'you know that? And how are you gonna get us in?" 

"A… friend gave me the information." Lucien started to lie. "You surely do not know him, he is a singer. Actually, you might have seen the posters around town a few weeks ago?" 

Mundy's eyes snapped wide.

"You mean that French singer? Lulu? The bloke who sings at the Queen Victoria?" His eyes lit up. 

"It is him indeed." Lucien went on. "He had two places but he cannot go. He thus gave them to me."

"Wait, you know Lulu?" Mundy asked. 

"I do, quite well." Lucien answered. "Why? Do you also know him?" He feigned innocence.

"Yeah, no, I mean, not like a friend, but I uh… I've uh…" Mundy blushed. 

"What is it?" Lucien pushed him. 

Mundy removed his hat and put a hand behind his neck. He looked down. 

"I've uh… I've been to see his shows. He's-he's quite good." 

Lucien smirked. Oh that was it, the spy was back in action with the little mind games, he loved it! 

"Have you? Lucky you, I know his reputation… What did you think of him?" 

"Coffee and pancakes for the gentlemen!" Victoria interrupted them, put everything on the table and left. 

"Thanks."

"Merci, V."

She nodded and left the two men alone. 

"Where do you know Lulu from?" Mundy asked. 

"First, you have to tell me what you thought of him." 

"He's… I don't know, he's something else." Mundy helped himself to a pancake and started digging in. 

"I am told he is quite talented." Lucien tried to encourage Mundy to tell him what he thought, and took a pancake.

"Mate, you should definitely go and watch him. And you understand French, so it would make maybe more sense to you than it does to me. Funnily enough, he sounds like you, you have the same accent."

Lucien smiled.

"I have even been told that we share some physical resemblance too…"

"Really?" Mundy stared at the Frenchman's face. "Actually, yeah, you have the same eyes roughly and uh… yeah, anyway." Mundy had been about to say that even their lips looked similar, those thin lips.

"Ah, I wish I could go."

"His next show is on Saturday," Mundy said between two bites on his pancake. He let his mouth do the speaking while his head was focusing on the dessert. "The place is awfully posh and you gotta wear a suit and tie - not that it would be a problem for you. It's expensive as all hell too. You'll like it. I can take you if you want." 

Lucien's smile couldn't stretch more until that last sentence. 

"Are you… inviting me, Bushman?" 

Mundy stopped chewing, his eyes snapped wide and he raised his eyes from his pancake. His cheeks were pink. 

"Uh, n-no, I mean, it's good music and stuff, and you'd suit the place. I bet you like that kind of posh stuff. Anyway, you've got the right to say no if you don't want to, eh."

"I would love to," Their eyes met, Lucien's looked… different. "But I'm afraid that my evenings are busy." 

"Oh, ok, yeah, you got someone at home, I forgot." Mundy said.

"Thank you however, it is very kind of you." 

"Mh." Mundy shrugged. "So, you have Lulu's tickets to get in Duchemin's party?" 

"Oui. We are quite close friends." 

Mundy raised his eyes to Lucien's. He didn't know if there was more to that sentence than just that.

"Although, Bushman, it is no ordinary party."

"What d'you mean?"

"It is a masquerade ball." 

"What's that? Oh, don't tell me we have to get costumes…?" Mundy asked.

Lucien nodded. 

"I'm afraid so. And that's exactly why I needed to tell you, or rather, ask you."

"Ask me what?" Mundy took a sip of his coffee. 

"Do you want to go to that party with me?"

Mundy's cheeks turned red. He swallowed down the coffee and cleared his throat, pretending that it went the wrong way. 

"So now you're invitin' me, eh Spook?" He asked.

"Bushman, you have to understand that it won't be any mere party. Criminals and rich men of all backgrounds, all more shady than the next, will be there. Besides, given my resemblance with Lulu, I will go as him."

"Ok."

"Non, you don't understand. Lulu has met Duchemin a few times."

"Did he? Why?" Mundy frowned. 

"Don't look so preoccupied, it turns out that Duchemin also enjoys his evenings at the Queen Victoria. He watched a few of Lulu's shows and asked to meet him. What that means is that Duchemin will certainly talk to me as he would to Lulu himself and if you choose to come as my plus one, then he will surely come in contact with you." 

"Oh…" Mundy started to realise the challenge. 

"And you will have to pretend that you don't want to kill him and even do small talk with him. Are you capable of doing that?"

Mundy frowned and pondered. 

"Well… Uh…" 

"I can give you a few tips to try and act the part, should you accept, but it will be a nerve-wrecking experience and I don't want to bring you along for you to ruin it all."

"No, 'course not. I uh…" Mundy thought about his parents. Had it not been 'nerve-wrecking' for them when the farm had been set on fire? "I'll come along." He answered. 

"Are you sure?" Lucien insisted. 

"Yeah." 

"You won't shred Duchemin on sight?"

"No."

"You won't run far away and shoot him from there?"

"Spook... So, what's the plan, we get there and then what?"

"I don't intend to kill him there. Even if we manage to get him to be alone, after a few minutes of absence people will start looking for him and we will no doubt get searched and caught. Non, that would be a terrible idea."

"So you just want to have a drink with him?" Mundy asked. 

"Don't sound so jealous, Bushman…!" Lucien teased. "You are having a drink and pancakes with me right now, non?" 

Mundy rolled up his eyes. 

"Christ, Spook…" 

"But non, my intention is not to enjoy myself there. I want to know more about the man, understand his close security, how untouchable he is. From that, we can think about how we will get to him."

"Ah, I see… Ok, I'll come with you and play by your rules. You seem to know what you're doing."

"Good. Now, I guess you need to get a costume too, don't you?"

"Y-yeah… D'you know where you'll go to get yours?" Mundy asked. 

"I will go to my tailor's."

"Ooh, listen to you, you have a tailor and all… You're so posh, I swear…"

"Well, I make a case of presenting well. You perhaps should take notes." Lucien arrogantly said and sipped on his coffee. 

"Alright, alright… Also, what are you gonna go for? I mean, what disguise?" 

Lucien leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms on his chest.

"Louis the Fourteenth." 

"Who's that? Please don't tell me it's a French king or something."

Lucien shook his head. 

"It isn't a French king, he was the French king. The one who had the Palace of Versailles built just to prove that he was the greatest king of all Europe." 

Mundy facepalmed. 

"Crikey… D'you ever stop…?"

"It is my second name, Louis." Lucien said. 

"What's your first one, then? Henry-the-bloody-Eighth?"

Lucien chuckled. 

"Non, I'm afraid you are wrong and quite far from the answer. But what about you, what costume will you go for? An arborigenous man who lives in a bush?" 

"What?!"

"Well, the costume itself will be easy to make, tie any old rag around your waist and poof!" Lucien snapped his fingers. "John's your uncle." 

Mundy burst out laughing. 

"First, it's 'Bob's your uncle', not John."

"Are you mocking me for it?! Try and speak French then, hm?" 

"Partout, elle me fait escorte

[Everywhere, she accompanies me]

Et elle me suit, pas à pas"

[She follows me, step after step]

Mundy quoted the song about solitude that Lulu had sung, and Lucien's jaw dropped. His pupils dilated like a cat in the dark and his breath cut short. He recognised the lyrics of course, despite Mundy's accent. Mon Dieu, his accent… A music in itself. The way he slightly twisted the consonants, making them bend and be softer, the way the vowels melted into slight diphtongues. Lucien felt it like a punch to his stomach. He naturally answered with the following lyrics.

"Elle m'attend devant ma porte

[She's waiting for me at my doorstep]

Elle est revenue, elle est là"

[She has come back, here she is]

Mundy's eyebrows jumped in surprise. He didn't expect Lucien to recognise the song on the spot and he had even less anticipated that he would recite the next couple of lines. He said, trying to sing with his husky, low voice:

"The Solitude,"

To which Lucien answered, singing low too, for no else to hear them. 

"La Solitude."

They both let silence fall between them. There was no other way to conclude this song that let the silence wrap those words and scatter them in the air. 

"You know the song?" Mundy asked. 

"It is more than just a song for me. It is an anthem, unfortunately." Lucien said as he finished his coffee. "I am surprised that you know it." He lied. 

"Well… It's uh, Lulu. He sang it and uh… I really liked it." 

"At least there is that." Lucien answered with a smirk. 

"There's what?" 

"If your sense of fashion and elegance in general is non existent, you have yet been blessed with good musical tastes." 

"Yeah, well, thanks for noticin'..." 

They both chuckled. 

"Yeah, it's uh…" Mundy said. "Lulu sang that song and I couldn't get it out of my head. I even bought the cassette, listen to it in the van." 

"Quite the admirer you are." Lucien said, just to see Mundy's embarrassment and it did not fail. 

"Well, his songs really are somethin', the way he sings them too."

"I am surprised that you appreciate music to this extent, in a good way." 

"Used to play the sax back in the days." 

"Really?" Lucien's eyebrows jumped. "Quite some hidden traits you have." 

"Hm, maybe. But yeah, to come back to your point, I'm not entirely sure what I'll go dressed up as. I don't… Uh… I don't have much choice in my cupboard, eh." 

"You could come to the tailor's with me, if you wanted."

Mundy's eyes lowered down. 

"What?! What am I gonna tell him? 'Please mate, do somethin', I need a costume for an awfully posh party of some sort'? And how am I gonna pay for it? The thing surely costs an arm and a leg!" 

Lucien smiled. 

"Says the man who has frequent dinners at Lulu's restaurant, hm?" He answered. "Back in the days, and when I came to know him, he was singing for the most prestigious restaurant of all Paris, where kings and presidents would eat, along with famous singers and movie stars." 

Mundy's eyes were dreamy.

"Gosh…" 

Lucien tilted his head on the side.

"So, will you come with me to the tailor's?" 

Mundy was lost in thought. He was caught in a sudden and brutal daydream: Lulu, his beautiful silhouette, his poetic hair, in Paris, singing his heart out as he did so well, in the night, in the City of Lights…

"Yeah…" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"Bushman?" He snapped his fingers in front of Mundy's face and pulled the man out of his pleasant, open-eyed dream. 

"Huh?" Mundy gasped and straightened his back. "Y-yeah, what?" 

Lucien shook his head, still laughing by himself, and gestured to Victoria who came to them. 

"So, how was it guys?" She asked.

"As usual, very good, V, thank you. Add this bill to me, I shall send someone to pay for it later if that is alright with you."

"Sure, you in a hurry?" 

"Oui, time flies when - uh…" Lucien stopped mid-sentence and frowned.

"When you're in good company!" Victoria finished for him and Mundy could have sworn he saw L's cheeks get a bit of colour. 

The Frenchman stood up and closed the button of his jacket. Mundy followed him out.

"Say hi to Perle for me when you see her, and give her a kiss for me!"

Mundy's blood froze.

"I will, thank you, V."