#i kinda like how the lighting came out but i probably shoulda put more time and practice into it

[sweaterstatic]

Happy Lunar New Year! Hopefully this isn't too late, even if I did draw a bunny-dragon to make up for the fact I never drew a rabbit for last year

[britcision]

I have not slept more than 5 hours together this whole fucking week and not more than 7 hours a day

It is therefore appropriate today to give you TIM! And TUCKER! All aboard the Lore Drop!

Chapter 14’s nearly fucking done I swear I was waylaid but I think I have solved the problem. Now the new second secret much bigger problem is my intense desire to commit Dragon Age crimes

Soooo chapters will probably stay a lil slower here for a bit, but hopefully not this slow again until June, when I will be Busy As Shit

————-

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence V

It was a weird feeling to have his body shaken while his consciousness was so far from it.

Feeling his face pull into a frown not quite mirroring what he felt it should be. Tucker could never have explained precisely what part of him entered his devices; just that it was him.

Quintessential, pure essence of Too Fine. Everything he was without the meat he was born in.

But then he did have to slot back into that meat, and trying to do that without matching positions always left him feeling weirdly off kilter the next day. Like he’d put on a shirt but the shoulders were skewed too short.

So despite not being conscious of a face on his extended form, Tucker tried to form it into a frown anyway, sliding back under his own skin like a teen sneaking back through a window after curfew.

Hadn’t those been heady days?

Eyes slowly opening, it took Tucker a moment to remember how to focus them. That they weren’t cameras. But then Tim Drake-Wayne came into focus, and the frown changed to a grin even before he fully “woke up”.

“Morning,” he mumbled, rolling and stretching, getting used to the feeling of a body again. It was a little weirder each time, which he might have worried about if he didn’t see himself as an extension of his PDA anyway.

“You were singing in your sleep,” Tim told him without preamble, returning the smile.

Tucker hesitated for a moment, suddenly embarrassed. If… well. If he’d been singing along, that…

Look he’d picked songs that’d embarrass Danny, he wasn’t gonna give a fuck about it. The only actual question was, did he tell Tim?

Who else would ever understand better just what it meant to interact with tech the way he could? Could get excited with him about how cool it was?

He wasn’t fucking gushing to Technus. No way. Tuck was easily the one winning that ongoing hackathon, but it was the principle of the thing.

To the zone with it. Tim knew about Amity Park, he knew about the ghosts and the liminal tech. And while they hadn’t exactly discussed liminal people, it’d come up.

Tim could have a sneak preview. As a treat.

Decision made, Tucker gave the younger man another broad smile because yeah, bragging about your super powers to a very cool and impressive person? That felt good.

Tim might be a vigilante too, but Tucker was pretty sure Jason was the only souped up Robin. Most of the bats were famously power free.

“Oh, yeah. I was bullying Danny,” he explained with a light chuckle, glancing up to find his beloved PDA, Ida. She was half under a blanket now, so he tugged her back out.

Tim chuckled softly, leaning back and stretching himself.

“Good dream?” He asked and Tucker snickered, stroking gently across the screen.

“Danny wishes it was a dream.” Tucker paused, frowning a little at the confusion on Tim’s face. “So you remember we kinda talked about the whole liminal thing?”

That seemed to jog Tim’s memory, confusion fading into an analytical frown that Tucker was already becoming familiar with. That good ol’ geek face.

“The humans with budding ghost powers,” he agreed, and Tucker had to wonder if maybe he just hadn’t put the right pieces together yet.

He hadn’t exactly said that most of Amity Park were liminal, but it was a little hard to remember he had to. Like, they lived on a portal to Hell.

Maybe he shoulda.

Well, at least it was a cool way to introduce it to him.

Tucker pulled Ida into his lap, flipped her over, and tapped the plain plastic backing to demonstrate.

“Mine’s a low level technopathy at the moment,” he explained as the PDA hummed and then began playing… well, still Montero, so he flicked it again and changed it immediately to Country Roads.

Tim was watching him with a kind of hungry fascination, and Tucker turned the music off with a thought, then passed her to Tim so he could check for secret touchpads.

“It’s not something I can do with anything,” he explained with a modest shrug, grinning with pride as Tim immediately got to scanning the casing.

All simple plastic, not even biometrics; what would be the point? Even touching the PDA was pretty much a formality at this point. She was a part of him.

“Technopathy? So you can control it with your mind? Why not with anything?” Tim asked eagerly, hands stroking over the plastic, eyes darting between it and Tucker.

Like he wasn’t sure which was more interesting, Tuck or tech, and Tucker absolutely took that as a compliment.

“It has to be a device I’ve really gotten into. Like, down to the source code, or something I’ve cracked before a couple times, and then I can just feel how all of it works.”

Tucker wiggled his fingers demonstratively and the PDA beeped to life under Tim’s hands, making the other man gasp. And yeah, totally envy in those cute blue eyes he turned all balefully on Tucker.

“How many of the functions can you use? Anything the PDA can do, or…” Tim trailed off, clearly thinking of everything he’d already seen the PDA do.

The real question would have been what couldn’t Ida do. And honestly? Yeah, Tucker remembered the trial phase.

He gave another shrug.

“Technically? Yeah, anything it can do, but I still prefer hacking the old fashioned way. Most of the network stuff too, cuz I’m only really “in” the PDA. Or Danny or Sam’s phones.”

Tucker hesitated, wondering how best to really explain the difference. Danny had never been any good at it, Tucker’d had no idea what he was talking about from the video game thing right up until he’d been sucked in himself.

Which… was probably gonna be a next-hangout adventure for Tim and the bats. And Oracle, if he could swing it.

For now he gave up, giving Tim a hopeless grin.

“Honestly it’s something you’ve really gotta feel for yourself. Danny’s great at the transition from real world to code, but he always just punches things, y’know? Turns out knowing how code is actually supposed to work doesn’t translate well to being part of it,” he added with a sigh.

Because frankly? It was bullshit unfair. Tucker could code an entire other galaxy around Danny with his eyes closed, but put them in the same metaphysical layer as a firewall and Danny could just.

Punch it.

Which, theme for the week, was also not how firewalls fucking worked. At some point Tuck figured he’d either gain a new level of understanding through liminality, or give up and ask Technus a couple questions.

Technus was currently Tucker’s subject instead of Danny’s anyway. They’d made a bet.

Which meant Technus shoulda told him about their shenanigans in time, which was probably what Tucker would hold over his head for the whole firewall thing.

It was so nice when things just worked themselves out.

Tim looked a little disappointed, but mostly still intrigued. Tucker could see his fingers just itching for his own tablet to take notes.

“Do you think that’ll change?” He asked, blurting it out like he couldn’t hold back now that Tucker stopped talking, “I mean, if you become more liminal? Or just practice your abilities more?”

And see, this was what Tucker loved about Tim Drake-Wayne. They were on the same wavelength. He grinned back.

“Probably. But I mean, it’s kinda cheating too. For now I kinda like that I have to do things the way I always used to first, before any ghostly powers kick in. It’s more me, y’know?” And like hell he’d let anyone think his code skills were just some meta ability.

He’d worked damn hard for those skills, and he was damn good. One of the best, and he was also good enough to know he still wasn’t actually top of the charts.

That was the Oracle, although knowing they still hadn’t cracked his servers felt really good.

Tim was all but vibrating, clearly full of questions, but they were both interrupted by a loud growl from Tucker’s stomach. Immediately echoed by Tim’s, so at least he wasn’t alone.

The two shared sheepish grins, and then Tucker stretched.

“So, breakfast and then Twenty Questions?” He offered cheerfully, and Tim nodded at once, thrusting the PDA back and rolling off the frankly massive bed.

——————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai

[musette22]

Burning For You

Title: Burning For You Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan) Rating: Teen and up Word count: 3.1k A/N: Written for Evanstan Week day 6, a late fill for the Alternate Universe prompt. This silly piece of fluff is entirely inspired by the wonder that is the Mountain Lodge candle from the Yankee Candle Company. Yes, the one that inspired this iconic Tumblr post. The one that smells like Chris Evans. 

I was lucky enough to receive one as a gift from the wonderful @howdoyousleep3 and my life hasn't been the same since I smelled it for the first time. Thank you for introducing me to such delights baby K, ilyyy 💖 Also BIG thank you to the @evanstanweek​ team and to my beautiful beta @rainbowsandcoconut who came up with the outline for this fic when I told her my idea! Love you, boo 😘

Summary: Evanstan AU. Sebastian gets a little carried away when raving about the Mountain Lodge candle to a friend. It leads to an unexpected, fragrant encounter.

Read on AO3

“Listen, D. You’ve gotta smell this candle.” Sebastian leans in closer, nearly knocking over his - third - glass of red. “You know I’m not usually a scented candle kinda guy, but this one…” He closes his eyes and tips back his head, an expression of pure bliss on his face. “Incredible. Glorious. Magnificent.”

“You look like you’re about to pull a Meg Ryan in When Harry met Sally over there, Seb.”

Sebastian straightens, giving Deirdre a meaningful look across the table at the low-key SoHo bar they’re having drinks at. “You kid, but I’m this close. It’s that good, not even exaggerating.”

“Sure you’re not,” Deirdre huffs, lifting her glass and taking a sizeable gulp of her Cosmopolitan.

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Sebastian shrugs. “You know, I pity you for not having experienced the delights of the Mountain Lodge candle, really. If you knew what it smelled like, you’d be singing its praises too, believe me.”

Deirdre rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Fine, I’ll bite. What does it smell like, Sebastian, pray tell.”

Sebastian sits up eagerly. “It smells…” he starts, “like an evening in that lodge in the Green Mountains we rented with the others a couple of years ago. Remember that? How it felt to relax by the fire after a long day of hiking, the scent of cedarwood and toasted marshmallows in the air?”

“Hmmm,” Deirdre agrees. “That was nice, yeah. But hardly worth busting a nut over, I’d say.”

Sebastian holds up a single finger. “I'm not done. Because this candle doesn’t just smell like the lodge, it also smells like the lumberjack living at the lodge.”

Deirdre frowns. “There was no lumberjack living at the –”

“The metaphorical lumberjack, D, god. Work with me here a little.”

“Oh right, okay. Gotcha.”

“It smells,” Sebastian continues, undeterred, “like soft, worn flannel. Like beard oil and a hint of clean sweat. It smells like a big, strong, gorgeous man who just got done hewing a ginormous tree with his massive axe and cutting it down into firewood, which he’s now using to light the very fireplace in front of which he’ll make sweet, sweet love to you, on the rug that’s actually the skin of a bear that attacked his rescue dog and which this man fought off and killed with his own bare hands.”

“Whooofffff,” Deirdre says, fanning herself with a napkin. “Fine, I’m starting to see the attraction.”

“It smells…” Sebastian goes on, pausing for dramatic effect before delivering his clincher, “like Chris Evans.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Deirdre groans loudly, sagging back in her chair. “Ughh, shoulda known this was coming. For chrissake, Sebastian, you literally cannot go even one night without bringing up Chris Evans, can you?”

“I totally can,” Sebastian protests, like the mature, professional, Times-employed literary critic he is. “But you don’t understand, D. This candle, it’s actually like they bottled the very essence of Chris Evans and then infused a candle with it. It’s life-changing.”

“Yeah, yeah, you have a permanent boner for Chris Evans, you wanna marry him and have his little bearded babies, tell me something I don’t know,” Deirdre sighs, draining the last of her drink and immediately starting to look around for the waiter to order a new one. Distantly, Sebastian notices the song playing in the background changing to The Smith’s ‘Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want'. Ah, if only.

“Listen to me,” Sebastian insists, unconsciously starting to speak louder, like he’s some small-town preacher trying to make his ignorant clergy see the light. “Deirdre, darling, you’re one of my oldest friends. I wouldn’t lie to you. I swear, when you smell this candle, you too will feel like you’re being engulfed in the embrace of the brilliant, spectacular, totally unique smokeshow that goes by the name of Chris Evans. It’s as if the man himself is wrapping those huge, muscled arms of his around you, crushing you to his wide chest as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck while his beard brushes your temple and you inhale his masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat, I swear to god – D, are you even listening?”

At some point during the last part of Sebastian’s homily, Deirdre’s eyes drifted to a point over his right shoulder and got stuck there.

“Did you just- zone out?” Sebastian asks indignantly, waving a hand in front of her face. She doesn’t even blink. “Hello? Earth to Deirdre.”

“Seb,” Deirdre says, still not looking at Sebastian.

“Oh, I see,” Sebastian barrels on. “Here I am, pouring my heart out, telling you I found a candle that smells exactly like the man of my dreams and you’re just… What are you doing, actually? Are you okay?”

At this point, Deirdre’s eyes have gone comically round, mouth hanging open just a little. “Sebastian,” she repeats, more urgently now – and just as he’s turning his head to find out what put that dumbfounded look on her face, someone nearby clears their throat.

Sebastian startles, looking up at the man who’s appeared next to their table.

“Hi,” the man says in a deep, rich voice.

A deep, rich voice that Sebastian knows all too well. A deep, rich voice that belongs to none other than Chris Evans, Hollywood heartthrob and actual smokeshow, himself.

Oh.

Sebastian gapes while Chris, dressed in dark wash jeans, a red flannel shirt and a brown shearling jacket, smiles at him patiently. He’s all soft-looking beard and strong nose and bulging biceps and long, lean legs, and Sebastian has died and gone to heaven.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Chris says, “but was just sitting a table over and I couldn’t help but overhear.”

And from one moment to the next, Sebastian crashes forcefully back to earth. His whole body goes cold, the blood draining from his face so quickly he feels dizzy with it.

Fuck. No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. There is no way this is actually happening.

Except it is.

Sebastian had just been extremely, loudly and publicly horny about the very guy that’s standing next to him right now. The guy who is no doubt about to give Sebastian a piece of his mind at best, and a right hook to the jaw at worst. And honestly, he’d deserve it.

Since Sebastian wouldn’t even know where to begin apologizing, he says nothing. Just keeps staring at Chris in ever-growing horror, his pulse pounding in his ears so loudly it almost drowns out the miserable sound of Morrissey still pleading in the background.

Chris clears his throat. “So,” he says, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “This candle smells like me, huh?”

Sebastian groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Shit. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- Oh my god, please, please, please just forget you heard any of that.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Puzzled, Sebastian chances a glance at Chris from between his fingers. He’s partly still covering his face out of embarrassment, and partly because Chris is so gorgeous in real life that Sebastian isn’t sure he could look at him directly without spontaneously combusting. It’s like staring at the fucking sun. He doesn’t seem too angry, though, thank god. In fact, there’s an amused twinkle in his blue eyes that makes Sebastian’s shoulders relax infinitesimally.

“Because it was incredibly inappropriate?” Sebastian suggests, honestly a bit confused about having to explain this to him.

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugs. “It sounded pretty great. Kinda want to smell it for myself now.”

For some unfathomable reason – probably because unexpectedly seeing his long-time celebrity crush in the flesh broke his brain, Sebastian blurts out, “Oh, I don’t have it with me. It’s back at my apartment.”

Slowly, Chris raises a single eyebrow. The look sends a shiver straight down Sebastian’s spine, from the crown of his head right down to his toes. “Is it now?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replies breathlessly.

Chris’s gaze drops down to Sebastian’s brown leather boots before slowly travelling back up to his face. “I gotta say, normally someone would at least have to buy me dinner first, but…” He trails off, looking Sebastian straight in the eye before finishing, “I am really curious about this candle.”

“You are?” Sebastian says dumbly, and then “Ow!” when Deirdre delivers an impressively precise kick to his shin under the table. He turns to give her a betrayed look, but when he meets her eyes, with which she’s clearly trying very hard to communicate something to him, he finally catches on. “Oh!” Sebastian whips back around to Chris, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I- you- you mean like…” He swallows hard. “You wanna come back to my place to, uh, smell the candle?”

Although Chris’s expression remains amused, there’s a hint of trepidation there as well. “Sure,” he says, smiling crookedly. “If… that’s something you’re up for?”

Sebastian’s mind races. The way he sees it, there are two possibilities. Either Chris Evans is actually standing here in the flesh, propositioning him, or Sebastian hit his head in the bathroom earlier and is actually just lying on the dirty tile floor, hallucinating as a result of severe head trauma. The second option seems by far the most likely, but then, his shin does hurt like a sonuvabitch.

Well, fuck.

Sebastian clears his throat and sits up straighter, running a hand through his longish hair. “I mean, yeah, that’s- wow. That. That would be okay with me, uh huh. You mean like, now?”

“If that works for you?”

Without thinking, Sebastian says, “Well, I’m here with Deirdre –” before letting out another sharp yelp as said Deirdre crushes his toes under her heel. “Jesus, D!”

Deirdre ignores him. “Ohhh, would you look at the time,” she exclaims, holding up her wrist which very much doesn’t have a watch on it. “Boy, it’s much later than I thought. I really oughta get going, early start tomorrow.” She yawns theatrically, then grabs her purse and throws down two twenties on the table. “It was lovely seeing you, Sebastian, Chris… Evans,” she adds, with a wooden nod in Chris’s direction. “Hope you two have a lovely evening, bye now!”

And she’s gone.

They both stare after her for a second, and then Chris chuckles – a low sound that reverberates pleasantly in Sebastian’s chest. “Well,” Chris says, turning back towards him. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Chris.”

Sebastian stands, taking Chris’s hand, which is warm and big and ever so slightly calloused, and exactly like Sebastian always imagined. “Yeah, I know,” he says, because he’s cool like that. And then, in a show of bravura that surprises even himself, Sebastian holds Chris’s gaze, tilts his head a fraction, and says, “So uh, my place?”

Chris smiles, casually dropping a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover their drinks, before taking a step to the side to let Sebastian pass. “Lead the way,” he says, lightly resting his hand on the small of Sebastian’s back as they make their way towards the exit.

🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

It’s only once they’re outside and the cold February night air manages to cool down Sebastian’s overheated brain somewhat that it occurs to him to ask if Chris wasn’t at the bar with anyone.

“I met a friend for drinks but he just left,” Chris explains. “I was just waiting for the bill when I overheard you guys.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have any other plans?” Sebastian asks, because he’s nothing if not a self-sabotaging idiot.

They’re still standing outside the bar, the golden light radiating from a nearby lamppost decorated with a cluster of luminous orbs making Chris look softer, somehow. Still a Hollywood heartthrob, but also charmingly human. Unfortunately, it does absolutely nothing to make Sebastian any less infatuated. If anything, it only endears Chris to him more, which he really didn’t think was possible.

“Not really, no,” Chris replies, amusement in his tone. “I was just gonna go back to my hotel and read for a bit.”

Sebastian perks up at the mention of his area of expertise. “Oh, yeah? What’re you reading?”

“I haven’t started it yet, but it’s this history of space travel? I read a great review of it in the Times the other day, so I thought I’d give it a go.” With a self-deprecating smile, Chris adds, “I’m kind of a space nerd.”

Sebastian blinks. “Not ‘To Infinity and Beyond’, by any chance?”

“That’s the one,” Chris confirms. “You know it?”

“I wrote the review.”

Chris’s eyes go round. “You did not.”

In lieu of replying, Sebastian digs up his wallet from his pocket, takes out his Times-employee card and holds it up for Chris’s inspection.

“Huh,” Chris says, studying the card. “What are the odds.” When his eyes turn back to Sebastian’s, he suddenly breaks out into a grin, wide and boyish. “Well, I guess that explains a thing or two.”

“How do you mean?” Sebastian frowns.

“I mean, that review was brilliantly written so you clearly have a way with words.” With a sly look, Chris goes on, “which explains your colorful descriptions of that candle earlier. The masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat was especially vivid.”

Sebastian groans, dragging a hand down over his face. “Jesus Christ, this is so embarrassing.”

Chris eyes shine with genuine mirth as he laughs, “Hey, come on, don’t worry about it.” He takes a step closer, ducking his head to try and catch Sebastian’s eyes, which are now firmly fixed on the pavement in an attempt to conjure up a hole to swallow him. “Call me a narcissist, but I didn’t exactly hate overhearing a gorgeous guy describing me as the man of his dreams.”

“Oh god,” Sebastian mutters, feeling himself turn a fetching shade of crimson. Trying to hide his blush, he turns around abruptly and nearly walks into the lamppost.

Chris, his savior, his knight in shining armor, manages to grab him by the back of his coat just in time to avoid the imminent collision. Sebastian still stumbles, but strong, capable arms wrapping securely around his waist keep him upright.

Carefully, Sebastian turns in Chris’s embrace so they’re facing each other, though he can’t quite make himself look Chris in the eye yet. “I’m guessing you caught on to this by now,” Sebastian tells the St Christopher pendant resting on Chris’s sternum, “but I’m kind of a disaster.”

Chris just hums, lifting a hand to tilt up Sebastian’s chin with his index finger, a small smile playing on his lips. “A beautiful one, though,” he whispers into the negligible space between them, before he closes that space and presses soft, full lips to Sebastian’s own.

Sebastian can’t suppress the small sound that escapes him when their lips meet, eyes closing on instinct as he lets himself sink into the kiss. Lets Chris take charge and coax open Sebastian’s mouth by running the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips. Sebastian doesn’t think twice about letting him in. When their tongues touch, sweet and soft and languid, he trembles, pressing closer. Chris tastes a little like beer, and while Sebastian’s never been overly fond of beer, it takes approximately two seconds of being kissed by the hottest man on the planet for it to magically turn into Sebastian’s new favorite taste. Ever.

The kiss starts off slow; a little cautious maybe, as if Chris still isn’t entirely sure it’s welcomed. But then Sebastian’s hands find their way to Chris’s waist, fingers gripping tightly, and Chris slides a hand into Sebastian’s hair, angling his head gently to the left to deepen the kiss – and suddenly, Sebastian’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. He moans, relishing the feel of Chris's soft beard scratching at his clean-shaven cheeks, and way Chris takes control of the kiss, like something right out of every embarrassing fantasy he's ever had.

When Chris hums against his lips, as if he’s enjoying this just as much as Sebastian is, Sebastian’s knees go all weak and useless. It’s a good thing that Chris is there, tightening his left arm around his waist and pulling him more securely against the hard lines of his own body – which actually doesn’t do a thing to help Sebastian’s current knee situation. He whimpers, curling his hands into the fabric of Chris’s coat to anchor himself.

When Chris finally breaks the kiss, he doesn’t go far. His breathing has deepened, warm puffs of air caressing Sebastian’s tingling, wet lips. Sebastian exhales shakily. The way his head is spinning might be partially due to the wine, but it's definitely mostly because of Chris sweeping him off his feet with his smooth, movie star ways.

Needing a moment to gain his composure before he speaks, Sebastian buries his face in the crook of Chris’s neck, taking a deep, steadying breath –

Oh.

“I fucking knew it,” he groans.

Sebastian feels rather than hears Chris’s quiet laugh; feels the vibrations of it shake his broad chest under Sebastian’s palms. “Yeah? Do I really smell like your candle?”

“Better,” Sebastian mutters. On instinct, he presses his lips against Chris’s exposed neck, eliciting a shiver from him.

“You know,” Chris rumbles into Sebastian’s ear. “I still think I need to smell this magical thing for myself. Make sure you’re not just flattering me to get into my pants, y'know?”

Christ.

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods. “Definitely, good thinking. Empirical evidence is paramount. In fact, it’s totally possible I’m just mixing things up right now because my brain’s all” – he makes a poof motion with his hands, trusting Chris will get his drift – “so I think maybe I’ll need to do some comparative research.”

Chris tilts his head in though. “Hands-on research?”

“I think that’s best, yes,” Sebastian concurs.

“Right. Well, out of the two of us, you’re definitely the higher educated one, so I’m just gonna take your word for that.” After a beat, Chris adds, “as long as I get to test a theory or two of my own.”

“Oh?” Sebastian licks his lips. “Such as?”

The wicked glint in Chris’s eyes is the only warning he gets before Chris is sliding his hand back into Sebastian’s hair and giving it a firm, experimental tug.

“Ah,” Sebastian breathes, his eyelids fluttering, the blood rushing south so fast he feels dizzy – again.

Chris grins smugly. “Such as that.”

“Okay,” Sebastian croaks. “Yeah, that seems fair.” Wasting no more time, he reaches out to grab Chris’s free hand and starts to pull him along the pavement in the direction of his apartment.

Chris, laughing as he squeezes Sebastian’s hand, follows closely behind.  

🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

Read on AO3

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Lost Boy

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Words: 4305

Summary: 16 years of never belonging and you’ve finally had enough. You move in with your outcast sister in Tulsa and meet a group of boys who finally make you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. Inspired by the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Notes: Peter Pan is one of my all time favorite stories and I love this song. I thought it could bring a whimsical, yet still angsty feel to a Sodapop imagine so I hope you guys enjoy! 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Sodapop and more: HERE

-

There was a time, when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

You always wanted to know what it was like to fly. To soar above the clouds, too far away to hear your parent’s screaming. Watching the world zoom by through the car window was the closest you’d ever felt to flying. You were free.

Pulling up to the little shack of a house, your sister, Beth, gave you a small smile.

“It's not much. You’ll be sleeping on the couch until we can clean out the attic.” She rambled. Beth rambled when she was nervous. “We were going to have you stay in the boys’ room, but Michael has a fever so he’s had to stay in bed-”

“Beth,” You gave her the biggest smile you could. You hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “It’s perfect.” There was a loud racket coming from the house at the end of the block and three rowdy boys came bounding down the street. 

“Hey Mrs. Austin.” One greeted as you both got out of the car. Your sister waved and he grinned. You never knew a boy could have a smile as nice as he had. 

“Steve, my engine is making that sound again.” Beth said to one of the other boys. 

“I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.” He said and the three took off down the street again. The one with the nice smile looked back at you and for a second you thought he might have winked. 

“Who was that?” You asked, turning your attention back to your sister as she helped you unpack. You didn’t have much. Just some clothes and a couple books. 

“The one I was talking to is Steve Randal. He’s been helping me keep this piece of junk rolling.” Beth patted the hood of the car. “The others are two of the Curtis boys. They live with their big brother Darryl down the block.” She pointed to the house the boys had come out of. “Nice kids.”  

You watched them walk for a moment longer before taking your things inside. Your brother in law greeted you with a suffocating hug and one of your nephews wrapped around your leg. 

“John.” Beth laughed, prying him off of you. John was six-years-old and Michael was four. They were two of the sweetest and silliest boys you’d ever met. 

“Look at how big you’ve gotten,” You said, feeling a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t seen the boys since Michaels first birthday. You were lucky if your parents let you write Beth letters. 

Beth was your age when she got pregnant with John. Your parents kicked her out of the house and told her never to come back. Her and Jack got married and moved here, to Tulsa. Two years later, she had Michael. They were happy, which was more than you could say for your parents. But you’d never have to worry about them again. 

After you settled in a little, you decided to find a quiet place in the neighborhood to read. You’d lost count how many times you had read Peter Pan, but you never got tired of it. The idea of a place like Neverland got you through every fight, every tear filled night, and every cigar burn. 

You walked around for a while before you found a nice spot in the big empty lot. There were a couple of logs to lean on and a spot where a fire had been. With winter break coming to its end, the January air made you shiver. You didn’t mind. You were too happy to even notice. 

Just as you opened to the first page, you saw a figure approaching. He was hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t even notice you until he reached where you were sitting. This must be his usual spot. 

“Hey, who are you?” He spat, though it was hard to be intimidated by his quivering voice. 

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, setting your book aside. “I just moved here.”

“Yeah, well you better beat it.” He ducked his head like he was trying to hide his face from you. “There are some real creeps around here at night and you don’t look like no greaser girl.” 

“I’m usually pretty good at handling myself.” You stood, not to scare him, but to show that you weren’t scared. “What’s your name?” 

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to know your name.”

“Who said I wanted to be friends?” 

You sighed and tucked your book under your arm.

“Suit yourself.” You walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you went. 

“Wait.” He squeaked. You turned around. “What… what are you reading?” A little surprised, you lifted up the cover so he could see it.

“It’s my favorite. I’ve read it so many times, but I never get tired of it.” You beamed as he read of the gold lettering on the cover, worn from years of being very well loved. You could see his face now and you held back a gasp. His cheek was red and swollen and his lip was split. He caught you staring and quickly turned away. 

“Like I said, you better get out of here.” He huffed. Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“My dad hit me too.” You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. At first, he seemed angry and jerked his shoulder away. But his face softened and he looked at the ground. 

“My name’s Johnny.”

“Now was that so hard?” You playfully nudged his arm to try and ease the tension. He even smiled a little. 

“Johnny!” Another figure appeared across the lot, barreling towards you like a steam engine. You were worried that it might be his dad, but as he got closer, you saw how young he was. He looked Beth’s age, maybe younger. 

“Hey Darry.” Johnny greeted, his voice still quiet. 

“I thought that was you I saw slinkin 'over here.” the man crossed his arms disapprovingly. “The hell are you doin out here? You’re gonna freeze to death.” Darry saw the signs of violence on the boy’s face and sighed. “Come on home with me and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks Darry.” Johnny muttered. Darry’s stare landed on you. 

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I just moved here today.” You meant to sound tougher, but your voice came out as a squeak. Man, he was scary. After giving you a once over and figuring you weren’t trouble, his hard stared turned a little more welcoming. 

“You must be Beth Austin’s kid sister.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“No need for that, now.” He chuckled. “You can call me Darry, same as everybody else. Your sister told me to watch out for you.”

“She did?” You knew Beth was protective, but she didn’t have to alert the neighborhood.

“Probably wants you to stay away from us greasers.” Johnny said and Darry tousled his hair. 

“You can come over for dinner too, if you want.” He offered. You would have declined, but your stomach started growling something awful. Darry motioned for you to follow him. 

“That’s Darry for you.” Johnny whispered with a small smirk. “He’s got a habit of takin’ in strays.” 

-

He came to me with the sweetest smile

Told me he wanted to talk for a while

It was kinda funny how well you fit in at a table full of boys. Darry was still fixing dinner and Johnny was talking to the youngest Curtis, Ponyboy. It only took a little convincing from Johnny for Ponyboy to get comfortable with you being there. 

“Damnit, where is that boy?” Darry exclaimed, throwing down a dish towel. 

“He probably got caught up talking to all those girls that come to see him.” Ponyboy said, sounding a little jealous. 

“Yeah, well if he wants dinner, he better get his butt back here.”

“Who are we waiting or?” You asked Johnny in a low voice. 

“Oh, they’re just goin’ on about Sodapop. He’s the middle one.”

“His name is Sodapop?” You wondered. You didn’t laugh like other girls sometimes did. You were actually curious. 

“Sure is. Our dad liked unique names.” Ponyboy beamed. “And Soda’s as unique as they come.”

“That’s one word for it.” Darry laughed, shaking his head. As if he heard his name, the middle Curtis burst through the front door, an excited grin lighting up his face.

“You shoulda seen her, Darry.” He howled. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that about every girl.” His older brother scoffed. 

“Well this time, I mean it. And she’s just down the street!” Sodapop leaned against the fridge with a dreamy expression. Darry cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Ponyboy and Johnny were ready to burst from laughter. As soon as Sodapop’s eyes landed on you, he nearly fell over, his face turning a very cute shade of pink.

“You must be Sodapop.” You tried your best to hide the nervousness in your voice, not to mention the furious blush lighting up your face. You had never been called pretty before. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. After all, he only saw you for a second. 

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened himself out and smiled. Lord, that smile. “You-uh-you’re the girl I saw with Mrs. Austin.” 

“What’re you calling her ‘ma’am’ for?” Johnny exclaimed. Ponyboy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What? She’s just one of us!” You laughed at the two, but kept your eyes on Soda.

“That’s me alright. Beth’s my big sister. I’m gonna live with her now.” You said proudly. 

“Where are your folks?” The youngest boy wondered. 

“Ponyboy,” Darry scolded sharply. He knew that the story probably wasn’t a nice one. In this neighborhood, they never were. You didn’t seem upset by the younger boy’s question. 

“They’re still in Chicago. Be glad you’ll never have to meet them.” You shrugged, your gaze returning to Sodapop. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity. He sat down across from you and Darry put down a plate of sandwiches. 

It was the liveliest dinner you’d ever had. Darry and Ponyboy squabbled back and forth while Johnny scarfed down his sandwich. 

“Whatcha reading?” Sodapop asked, eyeing the book you had set on the table. 

“Oh, um, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” You quickly pulled the book into your lap. His lips fell into a pout. 

“I promise I won’t.” His voice was so sweet that you knew he wasn’t going to make fun of you. You slid the worn down and well loved book across to him. “Peter Pan?” He read. “I remember that Disney movie when we were kids. Never thought about reading the book.”

“That’s cause you don’t read.” Ponyboy snickered. There was a thud and Ponyboy cried out, rubbing his now sore shin. 

“Is it any good?” Soda asked. 

“Oh it’s my favorite.” You beamed. “I guess the idea of flying away to a place where you never have to grow up was a nice thought when I was with my parents and all their yelling.”

You felt the tone of the table change. Ponyboy and Johnny looked at each other, Darry clasped his hands together on the table and Soda gave you a sympathetic smile. The grim shift made you think of home. 

“Alright, enough with the long faces.” You exclaimed, leaning across to playfully shove Ponyboy’s shoulder. “That’s all over now.” You looked at each boy with the brightest smile they’d ever seen. Your gaze landed on Sodapop and his lips returned your grin. “This is Neverland.”

Smiles returned to the boys’ faces and Darry even chuckled. You and Soda just kept looking at each other. 

“You clearly haven’t been in Tulsa long enough.” A new voice sneered. Everybody looked at the boy standing in the doorway. He had a hard stare and a mean look about him, but you didn’t let that scare you. You’d seen meaner. 

“Anywhere is better than where I was before.” You replied calmly. The boy narrowed his eyes and looked you over. 

“Is there something you need, Dally?” Darry asked sternly. 

“Little bird told me there was a new girl in the neighborhood. Didn’t think she’d be slumming with us greasers already.” Dally kept his mean glare on you until Sodapop stood up. 

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Soda must think you need protecting.” He smirked. “I think you look like you can handle a guy like me.”

“Cut it out, Dallas.” Darry’s voice was a warning now.

“It’s alright. I should be getting back anyway to help Beth get the boys in bed.” You pushed away from the table, thanking Darry for dinner and saying goodnight to everyone. Lastly, you turned to Dally as you and Soda passed him. “It was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as you stepped out into the cool night air. 

“Sorry about him.” Sodapop said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he walked. “Dally’s really not so bad. He’s just acting like that cause he don’t know you yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “I knew plenty of boys like that back in Chicago, only I didn’t have a tough guy like Darry or a sweet one like you to stand up to them, so Dallas is right.”

“About what?”

“I can handle guys like him.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and laughed. “I appreciate you walking with me, though. Beth would kill me if she thought I was out here by myself at night.”

“Has she always been protective like that?”

“I guess.” You thought for a moment. “When we were kids, she was always sticking up for me to our old man. She never let him lay a hand on me as long as she was around.” You found a pebble on the sidewalk and nudged it with your toe. “When she got pregnant, she didn't have a choice but leave. I think she just still sees me as that scrawny 10-year-old.” 

You walked together in silence for a moment. You stopped suddenly, looking up at the sky. Stars stared back down at you with their bright faces. You liked to think they were smiling. Soda was a few steps away before he noticed that you had stopped. 

“What’re you looking at?” He asked, walking back to join you. He tilted his head upward, trying to find whatever had caught your attention. 

“The sky’s a lot prettier out here.” You mused. “In Chicago, it’s all lights and smog. But here, you can really see the stars.” That feeling of flying was back, taking you up into the air just like the book. 

“You’re a different kinda girl, you know that?” Sodapop laughed. You spun around with your arms extended. 

“You have to be different to survive, Sodapop Curtis.” When you looked at him, he could have sworn that your eyes twinkled like the stars. 

-

I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

“They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling and there is almost nothing so delicious as that.” You read in a clear voice so that all the boys could hear you. It was strangely nice out and the afternoon had turned into a kind of gathering at the park. You were sitting underneath the jungle gym with Johnny and Ponyboy sprawled out across from you. Sodapop and Steve had their knees hooked on the bars to see who could hang upside down the longest. 

“Do you think this counts as flying?” Soda grinned down at you. Even upside down, it was the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Only until you hit the ground.” Steve swung out his arm to try and knock him down, but Soda was quicker than that and Steve was the one that ended up in the dirt. Everybody laughed and Steve was only angry for a minute. 

“Let her keep going.” Johnny whined. He seemed less skittish than he had last night. Ponyboy waited until Steve wasn’t looking to nod eagerly in agreement. 

“Pony, don’t you have studying to do?” Soda climbed down and gave his brother a pleading look. It didn’t take long for Ponyboy to catch on. He made a face and got up, nudging Johnny to join him. 

“Don’t be too late, Soda else Darry’ll take it out on me.” He grumbled, thanking you for the story before taking off back to the house. Steve also came up with an excuse to ditch, leaving just you and Sodapop, who tried to look surprised.

“Is this how you pick up all your girls? Cornering them in parks?” You scoffed, putting your book back in your bag. Man, his face turned red. 

“I don’t know what- um- I’m not… no.” He stammered, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. You laughed. 

“Relax, Soda, I’m just teasin’ you.” You shoved him playfully and slung your bag over your shoulder. The wind picked up a little and you shivered. 

“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Soda asked, watching the goosebumps appear on your arms. You’d picked one of your short sleeve shirts since it was so nice, but now the weather seemed to remember what month it was. “Here.”

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin to help warm you up. His hands were softer than you thought they’d be with him working at the gas station and all. Being so close brought a pleasant pink color to your cheeks. Before you knew it, you were inching closer and closer until he kissed you. 

His lips were gentle and soft and perfect. You both forgot to breathe for a while, but that didn’t bother you. When you did finally pull away, you both had the biggest grins on your faces. 

“Maybe I should walk you home.” Soda said breathlessly. You nodded and, with a rush of courage you laced your fingers together as you walked. 

By the time you got home, you felt like you were floating. It wasn’t the same as flying. This wasn’t rushed or heart-pounding. It was quieter and sweet. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss goodnight. When he was walking back to his house, he seemed to have a skip in his step. 

You swung the front door open with a wide smile, giggling to yourself like a little kid. But that happy feeling washed away when you saw who Beth was sitting with. 

“Daddy?”

-

Run, run Lost Boy, they say to me

Away from all of reality

You ran until your lungs felt like they’d burst. All you heard were three terrifying words and you got out of there as fast as you could “Takin’ you home.” You were home. That bastard wasn’t taking you anywhere. 

You took the back way to the Curtis house, ducking your way through other people’s back yards so that your father wouldn’t be able to follow you. You were too afraid to go around front, so you found a low window and knocked on the glass. 

“Darry!” You whisper-shouted. “Soda, Pony, is anybody in there? Sodapop?”

The curtains were pulled aside and an irritated looking Darry peaked out at you. He lifted up the window pane all the way so he could lean out and get a better look at you. 

“The hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. “Soda said he just dropped you off at home a few minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t go around front, Darry, he might see me.” You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. You must have been crying cause your face was all wet. “Could you help me in?”

He nodded and pulled you up by the arms. As you climbed in the window, Ponyboy appeared behind Darry with big eyes. You must have looked worse than you thought from climbing all those fences and cutting through yards. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Pony, go get her a glass of water. And where’s that other kid brother of mine?” Darry shouted before turning back to you. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Yeah, Darry?” Soda popped his head into the room. His eyes went as wide as Pony’s had when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?” Darry grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. 

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you hurt his girl, I’m gonna-”

“It wasn’t Soda.” You blurted. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared down at the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s come to take me back to Chicago.” You jerked your chin up, trying to look tougher than you felt. “But I’m not gonna let him.” 

“I thought they let Beth bring you here.” Darry closed the window and grabbed you a blanket from the bed. It was then that you realized you must have climbed into Darry’s room. There was a pair of work boots on the floor and an old, beat-up football on the shelf. 

“They did.” You glowered. Soda gently wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Guess they missed having something to scream at besides each other.”

“Well you can just stay here til he goes away, right Darry?” Soda said, not losing his sunny optimism for a second. Before Darry could respond, a series of loud bangs came from the front door. 

“I know she’s in there you little punks!”

“Oh god, it’s him.” You hid yourself in Soda’s embrace and Darry went to answer the door. 

“Come out now you-” Your father’s shouting stopped abruptly. Darry, though half his age, towered over him. He didn’t look so confident anymore. “Where’s my girl.”

You held Soda tighter. Your old man must have really hurt you because Soda knew you were one tough girl. You stood up to Dallas. 

“You need to leave.” You could just see through to the living room since Darry’s bedroom door was slightly open. Darry was fully blocking your father’s view of the house.

“I’m not leaving without that little brat.” He snarled, his cockiness returning. “An’ if you don’t bring her out here, I’ll call the cops. That wouldn’t end too well for you, would it son?”

“I said leave.” Darry growled again, his muscles tensing. You knew what could happen if the cops came. So you broke away from Soda.  

“I’m right here, so you can leave these boys alone.” You snapped, stepping out before Darry or Soda could grab you. 

“Thought you could run around with these bums and I wouldn’t come for you?”

“How did you even know where to find me?”

“Those brats of Beth’s started hollarin’ as soon as I raised a hand at her.” He smiled cruelly. 

If you hadn’t been standing there, Darry would have slugged him. You just wanted to get this over with. 

“Are we going or not?” You frowned, defeated. 

“Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Soda cried, trying to reach for you, but you jerked away. Tears pricked at your eyes again. 

“I have to, Sodapop.” 

“I don’t think so.” A new, hard voice joined the scene. You looked over your dad’s shoulder and saw the rest of the boys circling the house; Two-Big, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, and Dallas. Dally was the one talking. “You know something, fellas? I don’t like old me. And I really don’t like old, stinkin’ drunk men hanging around my neighborhood. Especially one that yells in my buddy’s face.”

“I ain’t afraid of a bunch of rats from Oklahoma.” Your father spat, but you could tell he was a little shaken. Dally pulled out a blade. 

“How about a New York rat?” He hissed, getting real close to his face. Your dad’s eyes went wide, shifting from the blade to the circle of tough looking boys around him. Then he looked at you. 

“You ain’t worth the trouble.” He decided, carefully moving around Dally and walking into the night.

The whole group gathered around, hollering and cheering over their success. Soda pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you right there in front of everybody. One of them, probably Two-Bit, whistled. 

“Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?” Darry asked, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair. Pony just shrugged. 

“I saw that mean old guy standing out here, so I ran and got Johnny and then we got everybody else.”

You pulled away from Soda and glanced around at the other boys. 

“You all came here… for me?” You gasped, a different kind of tears now welling in your eyes. 

“As soon as I heard Soda’s girl was in trouble, I got the hell over here.” Two-Bit said and Steve nodded in agreement. You felt your heart swell. Soda’s girl. 

You looked at Dally. Without him, it might not have worked. He just shrugged coolly and lit a cigarette. 

“I had nothin’ better to do.” But you could tell that, underneath, it was more than that. Johnny gave you a small smile. 

“You’re one of us now.” 

“And we stick together.” Ponyboy added. And they were right. 

“Alright, I’d better call Beth and tell her everything is gonna be fine.” Darry announced. “You all get in here. I’m sure we’ve got more chocolate cake somewhere.” This was followed by more cheers and stampeding feet as the gang rushed inside. 

Sodapop gave you the biggest, bright smile yet, taking your hand and following the boys to the kitchen. 

Neverland is home, to Lost Boys like me

And Lost Boys like me are free.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[bl--ankhaeji]

hiii! :). can i request a fic where hendery or yangyang have y/n over at place and she accidentally gets period blood on his bed but after taking care of her, and assuring she’s okay they face another challenge at the store when they try and buy some period items/snacks for her. :) ty!

Pairing ~ Yangyang x Fem!Reader

Genre ~ Fluff, Humor

Warning ~ uhh very light mentions of a slight panic attack not really but really two ig if you count yangs,, also unedited  

A.N ~ Sorry took me so long to answer 😅 hope you like it!

W. Count ~ 1.4k  

  The bright rays of light bleed into the room in which you and your boyfriend of a year sleep peacefully, that is until yangyang throws his hand towards your face in his sleep, slapping you awake. You jolt awake from the impact, “Yang what the fuck.” you spit angrily throwing his hand back on him. “Fucking bitch.” rolling your eyes before closing them you start twisting and turning trying to find a comfy spot to go back to sleep until you feel something wet between your legs. 

Your eyes fly open instantly as you curse internally praying that you’re just overthinking and you sit up looking down to see that what you feared was really happening. Your period had decided to come on in the middle of the night and not only that but you had heavily stained YangYang’s sheets and partially his comforter. “Fuck!” hopping out of bed you start silently panicking pacing back and forth wondering how you’re gonna hide this from YangYang. 

In the midst of your panic you didn’t notice that the very person you wanted to stay asleep had woken up. “Babe, what are you panicking about so early I can barely dream with all of your pac-” he stops mid sentence sitting up on the bed as if he had noticed something and instantly your heart drops as you cease all pacing, “Baby,” he starts out slow, “Are those my joggers? I have been looking for those everywhere, shoulda fucking known you had them.” Standing up he walks into his en suite bathroom. 

A breath leaves your lips as pure relief floods your bloodstream and it’s as if someone lifted a brick off your shoulders. You swear you had never stripped a bed of its dressing so quick in your life trying to get it into the washer before YangYang comes out. Gathering everything in your arms you start to trudge your way out of the room, the end was near you could see the finish line just a few more steps and you’ll-. Yangyang’s hand lands on your shoulder causing your body to stiffen immediately and he makes his way in front of you grabbing the bed set out of your hands. 

“There’s some bath water in the tub for you, I’ll take these to the washroom real quick then bring you a towel.” He then leaves the room without another word closing the door softly behind him. The panic that quickly filled you at the thought of him probably seeing the stain on the back of his pants when he walked out of the bathroom leaves just as quick as it came when you realize that he had probably already known the whole time. In its place was an indescribable warmth accompanied with butterflies at the thought that he pretended not to notice because he knew how stressed out you were about it.

Making your way to the bathroom you grab some clothes to change into. The bubble bath that rested in the tub could only be described as fit for a queen; you could even see the freshly opened and used powdered bath milk packet resting in the garbage can. Stripping yourself you sit in the bath filled with water at the perfect temperature and you could feel all of the tension in your muscles loosen. 

You hear YangYang walk back into the room and then the bathroom standing at the door looking at you. “I hope the bath water temp is cool. The comforter should take a hour or two and I can order you some food if you’re hungry.” 

Looking down at the bubbles that rested above your hands, “Thanks for not making a big deal out of this. You’re the best.” YangYang nods with a ‘Damn right I am’ falling from his lips, and a bright smile splits his face before moving to make his way out of the doorway until your voice calls him back.

 “By the way what did you do with that pad I left here last time? I forgot to put another emergency one in my backpack.” At your question the smile that once threatened to tear his face falls and a guilty expression takes its place. 

“Uhhh about that..” he trails off, averting his eyes, his right hand reaching for the back of his neck, “I kinda used your last pad to wipe up my Arizona Green Tea when it spilled.”  

“Yang I- YOU WHAT?!?”  

“I’M SORRY. THEY’RE- they’re really absorbent okay?” A silence falls between the both of you and you finally look back up at him staring him dead in the eyes a serious expression taking over your face. 

“I take it back, you aren’t the best.” 

“WHAT NO?!? You can’t take that back away from me. It’s undeserved, I had nothing else to clean it up with cause we were out of paper towels.” 

“No, it is deserved because now what am I supposed to do? I can’t just sit in the tub until my period goes off.” You say giving him a deadpan expression. 

“I’ll go to the store and get you some more, okay? I’ll even get you some snacks, what do you want?” 

You give him a list of snacks and tell him explicitly what type of pads to buy, “And if all else fails you can always just call me and I’ll tell you which ones to get.”

Yangyang scoffs, “I’m not stupid how hard could buying some measly pads be.” 

“What the fuck is we doin?” Yangyang drawls out at the sight of all of the pads. “So many words and I have no idea what any of them fucking mean.” he whispers. He picks up a box of pads, “Ok I’m pretty sure the wings are those flappy things that got stuck to my hand when I was wiping up the tea. So that means she wants them to have them, right?”

“Super absorbent..Heavy flow. Does y/n have a heavy flow? I assume so from the amount of blood she got on herself and the bed this morning, so I should buy these right? Wait, but they say teen and she’s not a teen.” putting the box down he picks up another. 

“Maxi, overnight, Super Pads? What makes these super? What the fuck is all of this?!?” Meanwhile Y/n is at the house saying I told you so because she can feel his distress all the way from the store.

Apparently Y/n isn’t the only one who can sense his distress because another boy walks into the section scanning the boxes with precise eyes grabbing one confidently and on the way to the counter when he sees a panic ridden Yangyang. “Hey, bro do you uhh need help or something?” he asks a chuckle falling from his lips. 

Yangyang’s head shoots up looking at the man as if he was a god, “Bro please I have no idea what the fuck any of this means and my girlfriend offered to facetime me if I had trouble but I ran my mouth about how I didn’t ne-”

“Need help and now that you do you don’t wanna call her and hear the I told you so? Yea I know that feeling and I refuse to let another brother feel the same.” The stranger's hand falls on Yangyangs shoulder as a father would his son as he guides him in the ways of the sanitary pads. When he was done Yangyang knew not only of pads but tampons as well and with his chest puffed out he made his way to the counter with the snacks and the pads ready to tell Y/n how he didn’t need help picking out some freaking pads...well not her help anyways. 

“Wow, you actually got the right ones.” you say walking into the room flopping down on the bed beside Yangyang. Opening one of the snacks he got you you lean back on him waiting for him to press play on the movie. 

He clears his throat drawing your attention up to him, “Is there something you would like to say to me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “It rhymes with Shime Shma Shmest...” 

Smacking your teeth you roll your eyes, “Fine, You’re the best.” 

Wrapping his arms around you pulling you more into his chest he nods, “Mmhm I sure am. Don’t forgot okay?” you shake your head at the saying he picked up from his roommate Haechan. 

Yangyang proceeds to press play on the movie and you get a couple minutes in, “Yangyang.” 

“Hm?” 

“I know you got help from someone cause I- mmgmhhmhMMSHSHMMHM” Yangyang’s hand flies over your mouth covering it in order to mute what you’re saying. 

“What’s that I’m sorry babe I can’t hear you. Did you say I’m the Best? Oh, okay thanks so much babe I love you too.” 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[this week’s T5F was requested by anon]

Top 5 Worst Choices That Didn’t Matter

“This game series adapts to the choices you make. The story is tailored by how you play.”

......Yeah okay, Telltale. 

There are a lot of important choices to make over the course of the twdg series, but as we all know, not every single choice matters. One of the biggest things people tend to complain about Telltale games is the illusion of choice and “my choices don’t matter! We all get the same ending anyway!” which is fair, I get it. 

I personally try to look at the choices in a more positive light. Like, yeah it doesn’t matter if you cut Lee’s arm off or not. No matter what, you can’t save him and he’s going to die at the end of S1. Except that choice does matter, just not in the way we wanted it to. It matters because it shapes the story we the player want to tell. 

Who is your Lee? Is he willing to do anything to rescue Clementine? Including cutting his own arm off if it means giving him just enough time to get to her, even though it’s going to hurt like hell and could possibly leave him worse off? 

Or is your Lee someone who won’t risk that, even if there is the smallest hope that they cut it off in time and he could live? He’s willing to let the infection spread and kill him because he needs both arms and all the energy he has left to get to Clementine?

Sure, it doesn’t matter in the end-- Lee still dies, but two armed Lee isn’t the same man as one armed Lee, and that’s important to your story. Plus, that choice is memorable as hell. 

But these kinds of choices that are impactful to your story in various ways? Yeah, we’re not talking about those today. Nope. Today we’re talking about choices that meant absolutely nothing. They never came back, they didn’t impacted the story in a meaningful way, they’re forgetful, and they’re just the worst. I don’t like ‘em.

Before we get started, just wanna shoutout @pi-creates​ for helping me bounce all these choices around and reminding me of so many things I forgot.

5.  Telling Clementine to bring AJ back to Richmond

One of the last choices you’ll make as Javier Garcia happens during a conversation with Clementine. The two are talking about AJ and Clementine’s wondering if she was a good mom [which still don’t love the direction they went there for okay ANF] and Javi has the choice to tell her to bring AJ back to Richmond, or to leave him at the ranch. 

And funny enough.... this means nothing. It does nothing. It’s said and nothing is remembered. Clementine never brings AJ back, she never mentions Javi telling her to bring him or leave him... all we get is a single line in TFS during the ranch flashback where Clementine says that they can’t go back because it’s a warzone that way.... but she says that no matter what. 

It also doesn’t help that this come at the very end of the season but isn’t a huge choice the affects the endings. I dunno if they were trying to plant ideas that “Ooohh this choice could decide whether Clem sees the Garcia’s ever again! Clementine’s story isn’t over y’all! The Garcia’s could come back and we could see Richmond again!”

But then TFS happened and they were like “Ha, that’s stupid, no one likes the Garcia’s.” and they are never mentioned by name again. 

4. Helping Sarah in the green house

Ugh, okay.

So, there’s this point in S2 where you’re trapped in Howe’s and put to work in the green house with Sarah and Reggie. Y’see, Sarah isn’t doing so good at this. Carver got pissed at her for talking earlier and forced Carlos to slap her... which he did, and it knocked her on her ass, and now she’s in shock. 

Then ya got Reggie who keeps talking about how he’s on thin ice with Carver but also he’s this close to being let out of the holding area, so behave and all will be chill. He gives you a task to trip and pick berries or whatever, when you notice that Sarah is just kinda standing there.

So you got a choice: Do you focus on your own work, or do you help Sarah out?

Well, it doesn’t matter what you pick. 

It.... it literally doesn’t matter. Sure, you could argue that it helps Sarah out and adds friendship points with her.... except no, not really. It’s never brought up again. She doesn’t even guilt you if you don’t help her, which is something you’d expect from these games. 

Oh, and Reggie dies no matter what. Yeah, Carver comes in and thinks a couple of berry bushes is the perfect reason to throw this man off of a rooftop... but then he doesn’t do anything to Clementine or Sarah either way. He doesn’t get mad if you help, he doesn’t go after Sarah if you don’t.... and it’s never mentioned again. Reggie’s death is, but your specific choice isn’t.

3.  Stealing from Arvo 

Oooooh boy, gotta love the Arvo choice. 

So, you and Jane are trying to find a safe place for Rebecca to have her baby when you see this kid walk up carrying a bag. He’s pretty harmless, and he’s more scared of you than you are of him. Jane gets the jump on him, and you check out the bag he’s carrying. 

Turns out, he’s got a shit ton of medicine.... medicine that your group could really use. Arvo panics and begs you not to steal from him, claiming it’s for his sick sister. You gotta decide if you want to rob him or not.

And it doesn’t matter. 

The best I can do to defend this is by kinda comparing it to when you steal from the Stranger’s car in S1. It’s more of a moral choice to shape Clementine, y’know? Except it doesn’t really do anything..... Clementine isn’t branded a thief after this, she doesn’t go around just stealing shit [though she can steal Pete’s watch but that’s another story]. But if you do want to keep stretching, then the next entry on this list could be seen as a continuation of Clementine’s thieving ways if you so choose.... but that choice is here, too, soooo take that for what you will. 

If you steal the medicine, you have this pill bottle that you can give to Rebecca but that barely matters, too. They don’t help or harm her when she’s giving birth, they do nothing for AJ, and no matter what you do.... Arvo’s squad ambushes you.

And it means nothing.

Arvo will always claim you stole from him, even if you didn’t. Rebecca will always die and someone will always shoot her, causing a shootout to happen where no one in your group dies.

Yeah, no one but Arvo’s squad dies. Mike gets shot, and so does Luke but that’s it. 

Oh, and stealing from him is never brought up again after that.... because it doesn’t matter. 

Even if they did something where if you stole from him, then one of your group members dies because of some bullshit reason, then it would mean something but as it is now? Nothin’.

2. Injecting AJ with medicine 

Oh hello, ANF, you’re back. 

This flashback is annoying on so many levels... Alright, AJ is sick and everyone has told Clementine that there’s nothing anyone can do to help him, but she gets her hands on the name of a medicine she thinks will help. So she sneaks around and finds the medicine, but of course, she can only give it to him as an injection. 

Instead of doing the smart thing and taking the medicine and moving away from the group to give to AJ in a safe location where she won’t get caught, she sticks around for Lingard to wake up, and he’s high outta his mind so that’s fun. 

He tells her that it’s not going to help him and to just put it back. She knows what they do to thieves around here but he won’t tell anyone. It’s up to you, do you put it back or inject AJ?

Well, guess what? 

Clementine gets caught either way and the drugs are either in AJ or smashed on the floor, David becomes a flipflop with his “We shoulda abandoned AJ long ago to die >:O but also you can’t take him because he’ll die out there!” and they kick Clementine out for being a dingus. 

And here’s the kicker.... AJ is alive no matter what. He gets through whatever sickness he had and went to the ranch. You injecting him or not did nothing... no side affects, nothing. I’m sure they didn’t want to go super dark by killing AJ off [except they kinda did since there’s a lot of scrapped concepts with a dead AJ] depending on if you injected him or not..... but at least it would’ve been something. Hell, maybe no kill him since we need him for TFS, but maybe it would affect if he went to the ranch or not to begin with. Maybe if he got worse, they sent him somewhere else and that would affect where Clementine went to get him back for the flashbacks in TFS.

Again, you could look at this as what Clementine would be willing to do for AJ........ but it doesn’t enhance the story in any meaningful way.  It affects what Clementine you get in the end, but that’s just some text on the screen. 

I dunno, this choice could’ve done something... that’s all I’m saying. 

1. Teaching Sarah to shoot

Once again, Sarah finds herself on my dumb lists... and not in a good way. Sigh. 

Alright, you wanna talk about the worst choice that meant absolutely nothing? Nothing at all? 

You get back to the cabin in S2 after leaving either Nick or Pete, and Carlos asks you to watch Sarah while they go out to look for the rest. You find Sarah, you can take some pictures, and then she asks where her dad is. 

She gets anxious and sits on the floor....but then she does something interesting. She pulls out a gun she found. It’s not loaded or anything, but she asks Clementine if she can teach her how to use it.

And you’re probably thinking, “Oh, that’s a good idea. She should know how to use a gun, but her dad is too over protective. This could help us in the future.” or “Oof, no, Sarah isn’t ready for a gun. What if that comes back and bites me in the ass? What if she shoots someone I don’t want her to shoot?”

Well, don’t worry your pretty little head because nothing comes of this.

Nothing.

You teach her to shoot, and it does nothing. She never picks up another gun ever again, she never does anything with what you taught her, and nothing happens. 

Just.... wow. 

At the very least... with the other picks on this list, you could stretch and make some sort of excuse for it having an impact on the story.... but this doesn’t do anything to further your relationship with Sarah, Carlos never finds out about it, there’s never a point where Sarah admits she found the gun, she doesn’t use it, she doesn’t give it to Clementine or anyone else to you, and it does nothing.

This scene could be completely removed and it wouldn’t change anything... which honestly, is something I can’t say for the rest of these dumb choices. 

That’s what makes this the ultimate pointless choice. 

---

Dishonorable Mentions

-Asking to go with Mike at the end of S2. Arvo will shoot Clementine no matter what and it’s dumb. -Keeping quiet about Mari when David asks you to. It doesn’t affect anything other than David being upset for two seconds, but you get thrown out and it doesn’t matter. -Trying to help Christa in S2 ep1. Either way, she gets shot at and you never see her again and it just doesn’t matter. -Honestly 400 Days.... just all of it. The only thing you get is pointless cameos if you get everyone to go with Tavia.  -Being nice to Larry. He still treats you like shit and accuses you of being a bitch to him anyway soooo.... yeah.  -Fixing the swing in S1 ep2. If you don’t do it, then Andy will.

----

It’s pretty telling that this T5F is just S2 and ANF choices.... sigh. Like sure, there are a lot of choices that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things in S1 and TFS but most of those I can justify as being there to shape your story and are impactful in different ways..... but boy, there’s just something about S2 and ANF and their choices, isn’t there? 

Anyway, what do you guys think? Do you agree with my choices or nah? Do you have a choice you don’t like and think is meaningless that wasn’t on the list? Lemme know, I’d love to hear it! 

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

—

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Reasons Javier Garcia’s Pretty Great

[mammonshuman92]

- Sapphire -

(Mammon x MC)

| part two | part three |

NOTE: F!MC

It’s here, in the endless sapphire pools, that I could get lost swimming, forever. The sheer power that they hold over me is otherworldly, and to be honest, quite unfair.

“MC! Are you listening?” Satan was looking at you with slight irritation, closing his book. The two of you have been studying for an upcoming test in the common room since you got home from RAD.

You jumped a little, abruptly interrupted from your daydream.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I guess I zoned out.” You replied sheepishly. You sat up in your chair, looking at your textbooks trying to regain some kind of memory of what you and Satan had been studying, but it was no use. As of late, there was only ever one thing on your mind. Well, one demon anyway.

“It appears that your mind is elsewhere. Maybe we should take a break and pick it back up after dinner?” he suggested.

You checked the time on your D.D.D., and jumped up from where you sat. Satan looked at you, shocked by your sudden rash behavior.

“Oh, umm.. I can’t tonight, I have a....thing. Tomorrow though?” You rushed around gathering your books and notes into a disorderly pile. Satan looked at you suspiciously. What has gotten into her? He thought.

“Alright. Are you actually going to be present? More than just physically, I mean.”

“Yes, yes. I’m really sorry. Thanks!” You yelled over your shoulder as you ran from the room.

As you rounded the corner of the hallway, you ran right smack into something, sending you and all your books and papers flying. 

Great.

“Oof!” 

That thing you smacked into? Yeah, that was Mammon. You both landed on your butts with a *thud*

“What the Hell are ya runnin’ for?!” He griped, confused as to what had just happened. When he noticed who had run into him and his attitude changed. “MC? What are ya doin'?”

“I’m sorry, Mammon! I didn’t mean to run into you, I’m just in a hurry.” You quickly explained, trying to gather all your papers, again. He grabbed the small bit of papers near him and handed them to you.

“In a hurry for what?” he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side a little.

Shit! He can’t know where I’m going! I need to make an excuse and fast!

“Oh, umm.. I, uh, I-I’m going shopping with Asmo! Yeah.” That should work. He ususally follows you everywhere, especially shopping but once it comes to shopping with you and Asmo? Yeah, he’d rather sit that one out. Although, I’m sure he’ll complain that you’re not hanging out with him anyway.

You quickly grabbed the last bit of papers and took off toward your room without another word to Mammon.

“It’s movie night, ya know?!” He called after you.

“I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” You yelled hastily, before quickly shutting your door.

“Hmph. Guess I’ll just do movie night by myself then” He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip a little like a small child.

As he turned to go to his room, something caught his eye. 

A piece of paper the two of you had missed. He picked it up and looked it over. 

It’s for sure MC’s handwriting. Is it song lyrics or somethin’?

He shrugged and shoved it into his pocket.

--

“I don’t have time to change, so my RAD uniform will just have to do. I just need to grab my bag, then I can go. Ugh! I’m gonna be late!” You said aloud while darting around your room.

I’m pretty nervous. I’ve never read any of the stuff I write in front of anyone, much less a crowd or people. Maybe I won’t choke since none of the brothers will be there. Could you imagine reading what you wrote in front of HIM?

*Shiver.* No thanks. Pretty sure I would spontaneously combust.

You grab your things and hurriedly rush out of your room. Hopefully I get out of here without being seen. I’m not sure how many lies I can come up with.

As you made your way down the staircase, someone came through the front door.. Dammit! It’s Asmo.

After a quick discussion, you were able to slip away from him.

Checking your D.D.D. for the time, you quickened your pace. “If I hurry I can make it there before the first reading.”

--

Mammon laid sprawled out on the couch in the common room, scrolling through Devilgram. He sighed heavily. “I’m so bored.”

He heard someone talking just outside the doorway.

Is that Asmo?

He went to investigate only to find Asmo walking down the hall with an arm full of shopping bags.

“You guys are back already?” Mammon questioned him. 

“Pardon?” Asmo asked, visibly confused.

“You and MC only left like an hour ago and you’re already back? Are ya sick?”

“Mammon what are going on about? I left to go shopping right after school.”

Huh? She ...lied?

“MC told me she was goin’ shopping with ya and left in a hurry earlier. If she ain’t with you, where’d she go?”

“Maybe she has a date.” Asmo shrugged and headed toward his room. Mammon stood there motionless and shocked like he’d been slapped in the face.

A date? The thought clawed it’s way around his brain. He felt a pang in his chest.

He’s always with her. To and from RAD, after school, through dinner, and until bed. Always together. They’re best friends.

So how did she manage to meet some other demon without him noticing? He started to get antsy and decided to go look for evidence in her room.

He looked everywhere. All over her desk and dresser, he couldn’t find a single shred of information on this mystery demon. Feeling defeated, he flopped across her bed with a groan.

Am I not good enough? I mean, she already spends all her time with me, what’s she need someone else for?

Thoughts of MC being with someone romantically ...intimately, started flooding his mind. He tried to shake it, but they just kept coming. The pain in his chest got worse.

He’s always been fond of her. In the beginning, when she was still new, he acted like it was such a burden to watch over her, but he secretly enjoyed it. There was just something about her. As hard as he tried to fight it, he found himself developing a sweet spot for the human. She’s always so nice and sticks up for him when it comes to his brothers. She always seems happy to see him and is down for whatever crazy money making schemes he can come up with. Before she got here, it had been a long time since he had felt this happy. He’s pretty sure he’s never laughed so much in his entire existence than when he’s with her.

As much as he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care about the human, he doesn’t want to go back to life without her. Truth is, he cares about her. A lot.

All the thinking was starting to depress him.

He decided to get up and go to his own room and sulk for the rest of the night. Maybe he could stop by Lucifer’s study and sneak off with a bottle of Demonus. 

As he made his way to the door, he noticed something. The little calendar on your desk had a date circled in red. He picked it up to get a closer look. The date circled was today.

“Coffee shop, 6pm”

Boom. Re-con was successful! He found out where your date was!

He put the calendar back on your desk and checked the time. Crap! It’s almost 7.

He bolted from the room. If he had any chance of seeing what kind of punk lesser demon you were on a date with, he needed to hurry.

--

“This has to be it. She only goes to one coffee shop.” Mammon whispered to himself as he tried to peak inside the front window of the establishment. He couldn’t see you anywhere from where he was and decided to go inside and sit at a table in the very back. Maybe she won’t notice me. He thought. 

He scanned the room, but still couldn’t see you anywhere. Maybe she went to the bathroom?

As he kept scanning the room, the lights started to dim and everyone focused their attention to a small stage with a lone microphone at the back of the shop.

Huh?

A light shined on the stage and a man stepped up to the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming, we have a great turn out tonight. Without any further adieu, let’s get open mic night started!” The crowd applauded and the man walked off stage.

"Open mic night? I didn’t know she liked this kinda stuff.” Mammon said quietly to himself.

Maybe that’s why she’s on a date. He probably noticed all the stuff I didn’t. Mammon sat back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest, pouting. She’d never wanna be with an idiot like me anyway.

--

A couple people read poems, one girl sang, and a few people played instruments. Still no sign of MC.

Maybe she does know a different coffee shop. He started to fidget in his seat, mentally kicking himself. You shoulda told her, ya idiot!

How could he though? He is one of the seven rulers of the underworld. How is he supposed to tell a human that she makes his life so much better? That your laugh is like music and his favorite smell is that of your shampoo? That when you fall asleep next to him on the couch on movie night it’s the best night of his week? 

“Our final act of the night is new to the stage and a little nervous, so go easy on her.” said the emcee. The audience started to applaud as the man walked off stage.

Mammon scooted his chair out and stood to leave. She obviously wasn’t here and he needed a drink.

He was making his way to the door, when he heard it. 

That voice. MC?

He turned to see you standing on the stage, spotlight shining on you. He listened as you spoke.

Is that ...a poem? The words sounded very familiar, like he had heard them very recently. Then it clicked. 

He fished the piece of paper out of his pocket. The poem you were reciting on stage was the same thing written on the paper he found in the hallway.

She wrote this?

He looked up at where you stood on the stage. You hadn’t noticed him so he made his way back to his seat. As he watched you, he started paying attention to the words you were saying. You spoke so softly.

“It’s here, in the endless sapphire pools, that I could get lost swimming, forever. 

Gold flecks, warm like sunshine, adorn the precious gems he dare call an iris.

The sheer power that they hold over me is otherworldly, and to be honest, quite unfair.”

So there really is someone. He thought. There was a stinging feeling in his chest. You don’t talk like that unless love is involved.

“Warm skin, the color of caramel, electricity felt in the slightest of touches.

Hair born of the winter, soft as the Heavens from where it once reigned.

Completely enamored by this creature, I would also happily fall from grace.”

Hair born of winter? Fall from grace? Tan skin?

Wait. That sounds like..

Realization hit him like a truck.

“..It’s about me..” He whispered, barely audible even to himself.

His chest felt like it was going to explode. His stomach so full of butterflies he felt nauseous.

He couldn’t believe it..

| part two |

[avnkin]

undrunk - jj.m

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, mentions of sex, kinda toxic relationship & mentions of substances.

Word Count: 2.5k

This fic is based of the song Undrunk by Fletcher

gif is by the talented @toesure <3333

Wish I could get a little un-drunk so I could un-call you

At five in the morning, I would un-fuck you.

JJ Maybank was your ex, the two of you had broken up almost a month ago but still always managed to find each other when you were intoxicated, ending up wrapped in each other’s arms at late hours of the night. One of you always being gone the next morning.

He’d broken up with you because he felt he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, but it was borderline impossible for the two of you to cut off all communication.

When you were together a part of you always knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, but you loved him so you started finding excuses for all of the things he did and the stuff he put you through.

At one point you had even started asking yourself, what did I do that made him leave? It wasn’t right but you couldn’t help it, the manipulative thoughts clouded your mind like a drug.

To go from being so involved with him on such an intimate level, to then, becoming a complete stranger and having no part of his life was a pain you couldn’t even begin to describe.

The first time it had happened was after almost three weeks of being apart. You weren’t doing any better from the day he’d ended it, your tear-stained cheeks stuck on the screen before you, when suddenly what you thought was a ray of sunshine lighting up the darkness that had consumed you appeared.

He’d knocked on your window like he’d done so many times before but this time it was different. He didn’t tell you how much he loved you as he hungrily kissed you and tore your clothes off.

He barely even looked at you as he spent the night with you, making sure the two of you were on the same page when he finished, stating that he didn’t want to be in a relationship again but wanted to continue sleeping together and you had agreed even though every part of your body was telling you not to.

You loved him and thought that being with him in some way was better than not being with him at all.

But you knew it was only so long until one of you was bound to break this endless cycle of running back to each other.

Honestly, this party's over

Everyone here shoulda gone home

But I’m afraid of being sober

As you stumbled home after yet another party, you felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, having nothing left to distract you, no substance, alcohol, or fling to silence your thoughts about the boy who had held your heart and crushed it.

It was the feeling after you’ve hosted a pregame or a party and everybody’s gone and the only thing that’s left are the wounded soldiers. Just you and your drunken thoughts, swirling around in your head. 

You’d endured this feeling so many times after the breakup and you tried so hard to cover it up with anything you possibly could, but it was like a virus, that just keeps on coming back.

So once again you found yourself standing in front of his window lightly tapping your nail onto it waiting for him to appear and let you in.

When the curtains lifted you felt sane again, seeing his face as he smiled down at you before pushing the window open allowing you to climb in.

His lips were on yours within seconds as he hurriedly went to remove all items of clothing that covered your body, desperate for your touch.

You didn’t fully realize it then but every time he kissed you and touched you it would take out a tiny piece of your heart, knowing that this was all it would ever be.

The morning after you’d woken up in a haze, his ring clad fingers resting on your stomach as he lay peacefully beside you, his blonde hair sprawled all over the pillow beneath him.

‘Fuck’ you thought once memories from the previous night started flooding back into your mind. You carefully lifted his arm off of you and started searching for your clothes, which had been thrown all over the place the previous night.He’d woken up when you’d accidentally tripped over your shoe as you tried to get it on. 

“Shit” you mumbled when he started propping himself up onto his elbows, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice raspy as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

“Leaving?” 

It was more of a question than an answer but he just shrugged his shoulders turning his back towards you as he continued his slumber. You sighed as you twisted the doorknob, taking one last glance at him before shutting the door and walking out to your car.

So I squeeze out the lime on the ice of my drink

And the juice hits the cuts on my fingers

It still doesn't burn as much as the thought of you

Sarah was throwing a little get together and you had been fine through most of the night, feeling that maybe, just maybe, you were finally starting to get over him. Finally not feeling the need to look at your phone every few minutes to see if he had texted you or go on to his Instagram to see if he had posted a picture of him and another girl.

You’d been helping Sarah gather shot glasses for everyone when you’d accidentally dropped one, cutting your finger as you attempted to pick up the broken pieces of glass sprawled all over the kitchen floor.

Sarah had told you not to worry about it simply grabbing a vacuum and quickly cleaning it up before ushering you into her living room where you all sat in a circle beginning to play truth or drink. 

You stared down at your newly cut finger, watching as the blood trickled down it and into your palm, it hurt like a bitch, but you didn’t pay it any mind, pouring salt onto your backhand smiling up at Sarah as she passed you a shot glass filled to the brim with tequila.

“Alright Y/N, your turn” Topper stared devilishly at you before looking over at Rafe who gave him a wink, furrowing your eyebrows at the silent exchange.

“How many people have you had sex with?” he raised an eyebrow taking a swig off his beer as Rafe gave him a thumbs up causing you to only roll your eyes in response.

“Ew Top seriously?” Sarah huffed crossing her arms over her chest, “you don’t have to answer that” she directed at you, hitting Topper in the back of the head making you giggle.

“Wasn’t going to” you chuckled, licking the salt off your hand and downing the devil's drink, scrunching your face as the liquid burned your throat.

You quickly reached out for one of the lime wedges with the hand you’d cut earlier and as your finger touched it you winced the juice going into your fresh wound the cheers of your friends fading out as you suddenly began to think that not even this burned as much as thinking about him does.

I wish I could un-kiss the room full of strangers

So I could un-spite you, un-lose my temper

But some things you can't undo

And one of them's you.

After a relationship ends everybody goes through a different healing process, for you it was definitely seeking attention from somebody else, needing to feel wanted again, because it momentarily ‘convinced’ you that you were fine.

But you soon realized that no matter what you did or who you kissed no one could compare to JJ, the sad realization hitting you as a boy you didn’t know the name of let his hands wander all over your body.

His touch didn’t send shivers up your spine as JJ’s did and his lips on yours didn’t make you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You just felt empty as he whispered endless compliments in your ear, cutting him off by reconnecting your lips with his, hoping that it would fill the void inside of you.

You wished nothing more than to go back to all the times you’d slept with JJ after you’d broken up and taken it back, wishing you’d never have let him waltz back into your life after he single-handedly destroyed it.

I'm afraid to turn the lights on

I don't wanna face this rebound

Is it weird if I come over?

I want to, but I know that she's around

You couldn’t stop thinking about all the other girls he’d probably slept with by now, doing whatever with whoever.

It was that sick feeling that just kept on coming back, sticking with you from the time you woke up and to the night when your head hit the pillow, “what did he do last night?”

“It doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t care” those were the two things you were mostly battling with, caring but pretending that you didn’t.

One time you’d been hanging out with Kie, she’d invited you to come and eat dinner with her at The Wreck, stating that you’d spent little to no time together since you and JJ had ended things.

You, of course, agreed, driving over to the restaurant, practically running into Kie’s arms as she engulfed you in a tight hug.

The pair of you quickly sat down enjoying a plate of hamburgers and fries as you caught up with each other.

You couldn’t help but notice every time you mentioned JJ she’d tense up, panic settling on her face, always dodging the questions or changing the subject.

“Kie what’s going on?” you finally asked tired of her strange behaviour.

“What do you mean?” she tried to write you off but you wouldn’t let her, pestering her until she finally broke. “Okay fine look I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you this but- uhm... JJ’s been seeing someone.” You froze dropping the food you’d been holding as you stared wide eyed at her, “Wait... I don’t know if there’s actually anything to it- I mean you know him, he’s probably just sleeping with her until he finds someone else, you know?” she tried to comfort you before realising how insensitive that sounded, “Oh shit! No, wait that came out wrong!”

“Kie it’s okay, I don’t care,” you lied, pasting on a fake smile as you grabbed a french fry from her plate and placed it into your mouth.

“A-are you sure?” she hesitantly asked furrowing her eyebrows, not quite believing your words. You only nodded in response and she quickly dropped the subject, thankfully, you knew if you’d had talked about it any longer you would have started crying.

So when you finally arrived home you let your tears fall free, now convinced nothing could fill that void inside you except JJ.

Been through every emotion

Right now, I'm sad and broken

Like the bottles on the floor, but I'm too buzzed to clean 'em up

Self love was something you had always struggled with and sometime after the breakup you’d finally realized that it was impossible to love somebody else if you didn’t love yourself.

You didn’t love yourself when you were with JJ so you depended on him to make you feel the love you couldn’t provide for yourself and it was only after you got out of it that you gained that perspective, aside from going out and partying, you really had to take the time to do a self dive and ask yourself. Am I good? The answer definitely being no.

You slowly but surely started doing the things that you loved again, surrounding yourself with the people that made you feel like the best you.

It was a roller coaster of emotions. One day you’d be totally fine, reassuring yourself that you could do this but the next you’d be curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor of your shower or crying in a stall at a restaurant or a bar.

And it was at your lowest points that you’d run back to JJ or let him come to you, spending the night with him only made you feel better temporarily but in the long run you knew it was what was hurting you the most.

Wish I could get a little un-drunk

So I could un-love you

“I can’t do this anymore J” you frowned as you got out of his bed, untangling yourself from his tight embrace, he looked at you confused eyebrows contorted.

“What exactly do you mean?” he asked propping himself up onto his elbows as he stared intently at you, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes as you finally realized that you had to end this, you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself.

“I mean this, JJ,” you said, gesturing between the two of you, “Whatever it is, I can’t do it anymore!” You shook your head, hurriedly gathering your things wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Wait Y/N,” he pleaded, getting out the bed, grabbing your wrists, turning you to face him. “Why?” he finally asked, his voice just below a whisper.

“Because, I love you too much and it hurts to see you leave, it hurts to see you with somebody else and I can’t keep trying to convince myself that one day we can go back to the way things were, because I know that’s not what you want.”

This was without a doubt one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do, but you knew this had to be done or you’d just end up hurting yourself even more.

So you left him standing alone in his room, not giving him a chance to talk as you stormed out of his house and into your car, sobs racking through your body as you let your head rest on your steering wheel.

You took a deep breath before placing your keys in the ignition, beginning the long drive from The Cut and into Figure 8.

It was raining pretty heavily and as the calming sound of the rain droplets hitting the top of your car you began to realize your relationship with JJ made you who you were, it taught you a lesson and you learned from it, growed from it, even though it was really hard to see it when you were in the thick of it.

But once you gained some perspective, you began to see things a lot more clearly, realizing that JJ was a really important part of your journey.

You wouldn’t go back in time and undo the relationship, because it had taught you so much about yourself that you didn’t know that you needed to so you finally drove back home, leaving JJ behind, even though it physically hurt you to do so.

This was for the best.

Thank you @angellissy & @harrysbbby for helping me with my grammar!!!! I love y’all💓💓

[phoenix-downer]

See You Soon

~2500 words. Post-Melody of Memory. Contains spoilers. Riku POV, Kairi POV. Introspection and reflection. Implied SoKai. Mostly canon compliant. 

As the wind whistled past Riku’s ears and his Station of Awakening came into view, one thought tumbled over and over through his mind: 

Am I doing the right thing?

He wasn’t sure where that had come from. Saving Sora was the right thing to do, no doubt about it. They’d searched an entire year and finally had a clue. Of course jumping through the portal was the right thing to do. He had to bring Sora back; he owed it to everyone. To Sora himself, of course, but to all their friends as well. Especially Kairi—

Kairi. Try as he might, he couldn’t get her face out of his head. The disappointment in her eyes when he’d told her she should stay behind. 

He touched down on the platform that had his likeness etched in stained glass. Not as he was now, but as he was when he began his journey. The moment his heart awakened to the true nature of reality and of the Keyblade. Purple glass surrounded him, and next to him were the faces of friends and important people he’d met on his journeys. 

Had Kairi gotten to have her awakening yet? Or was she—

“I did the right thing,” he said as he paused to get a feel for his surroundings. “This is what Sora would want. Kairi, safe and sound in the Realm of Light. What would he say if I let anything happen to her, after everything he’s sacrificed for her?” He balled his hand into a fist. “He trusted me to look out for her, after all. And he’d want me to bring him back to her. Right?”

No one answered him; it was dark and silent here in his heart. Not even Ansem Seeker of Darkness lurked around anymore. His image had melted away from the Station after that final battle in the Keyblade Graveyard.

And yet, a small, nagging voice at the back of his mind wouldn’t leave him alone. It pointed out that missing from his reasoning was Kairi herself. What did Kairi want?

“She’s fine with this,” he said as he paced back and forth. “She needs more training, she doesn’t want to be a burden—”

He stopped. His feet were near the image of Mickey’s head, and he sighed deeply.

“I know, I know,” he said, speaking as if his friend was actually here. “It wasn’t my call to make.”

Kairi had quickly masked her true feelings with her usual cheerfulness, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Being left behind again was hardly what she’d wanted. And yet he’d agreed to leaving her behind because he was in such a rush to save Sora. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a little too late to go back now, huh?” 

The Power of Waking was not something he could use lightly. Sora’s disappearance had really driven that lesson home. Doubling back halfway through a dive could be risky. Best to continue on to his destination.

He summoned his Keyblade. It appeared with its usual burst of light, and its steady weight in his grip helped him focus.

“Kairi, I’m sorry for leaving you behind again. I promise it won’t happen next time.” He glanced up at the endless sea of black above him. “Besides, something tells me your heart might be the key. You brought Sora and I back from the Realm of Darkness. Depending on how this goes, we might need another miracle.” 

While Riku hadn’t hesitated to dive in after Sora, he knew there was no guarantee he’d make it back. This portal probably only went one way, knowing his luck. But if anyone could light the way home, it was Kairi. 

He pointed his Keyblade at his Station of Awakening and unlocked it. As his surroundings faded away and a new path appeared before him, he had one last message for Kairi.

“See you soon. And the next time I do, I swear, Sora will be with me.”

Despite all the odds, he wanted to give her this reassurance at least. He wanted to make up for all the tears and pain, the year of her life she spent sleeping away in the hope she might find a clue about Sora. A clue they needed because he’d failed to keep her and Sora safe. This was all his fault. If he’d protected Kairi from Xehanort—if he’d offered to go after her instead of letting Sora go it alone—then maybe, just maybe, Sora would still be here.  

This was his penance; his way of making it up to them both. The debt would only be repaid when the two of them were reunited. And this time, he’d make sure he was there too. No slinking off into the darkness alone. If his journeys had taught him anything, it was that there was nothing more important than being with his friends.

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

Kairi rested her chin on her hand and gazed out the window of the Gummi Ship. She’d seen this view several times now, but she still found herself staring at the sea of stars twinkling like diamonds in the sky. Wherever Sora was, could he see these stars? Did unreality have stars the way reality did?

“Kairi? Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Mmmm?” She broke out of her reverie and turned to her companion. Goofy was craning his neck to look at her, a concerned expression on his face.

“Do you think there are stars where Sora is?” she asked him.

He scratched his chin. “Gawrsh, that’s a good question. I’d think so, but who knows what that fiction-place is like.” He turned to Donald, who was currently driving their vessel. “Donald? Whaddya think?”

Donald carefully guided them past a lumpy asteroid before responding. “Who knows. Maybe it has stars, maybe it doesn’t. Probably depends on if the unreality has multiple worlds.” 

Kairi fiddled with her necklace. “I suppose it’s a silly question. I just… I wish I knew he was okay. I don’t want him to be somewhere strange and scary that doesn’t even have stars.”

She hadn’t imagined he’d come to her aid in that dream she’d had of Xehanort, right? One moment, she’d been sprawled on the ground, disarmed, as Xehanort prepared to strike her down again, and then the next—Sora’s Keyblade had appeared in her hand, and she’d felt his presence. He’d fought for her, too. But it was just like Xehanort said—he couldn’t speak. Not a single word to her or to anyone.

Why was he without a voice? Who had taken his voice away? And where was his heart? Why would a vanquished Xehanort who had moved on to the afterlife even care about where his heart was? Unless the person she’d met in her dream wasn’t actually Xehanort—

“Kairi?” Goofy said, breaking her out of her thoughts again.

“Sorry, I just… I dreamed about Sora, but he couldn’t speak to me. I wish I knew what he wanted to tell me—if there was anything he wanted to tell me, that is.”

It was a little presumptuous of her to assume so. He’d said what he’d needed to say before he’d disappeared. Wanting anything else—after everything he’d already done—when so many other people missed him and wanted to talk to him too—

Goofy clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Gawrsh, I’m sure he’s got lots he’d like to tell ya.”

“You really think so?” 

Donald cackled as he dodged around a meteor. “Oh, we know so. And boy do we have the stories to back it up.” 

She tilted her head. “Stories?” What did Donald mean? Stories about Sora, or—

“Gawrsh, Donald, maybe we shouldn’t tell Kairi everything, I think Sora would be kinda embarrassed—”

“You shoulda seen his face any time he saw a happy couple! He’d get all blushy and flustered and giggly because he was thinking of a certain special someone.”

Goofy clasped his hands over his mouth and giggled. His eyes were dancing, and Kairi put two and two together.

“Me? He kept thinking of me?”

Donald and Goofy both nodded, like they were two bobbleheads controlled by the same spring.

She leaned against the window and smiled. “If it’s not too much to ask… Could you tell me more? Stories about Sora, I mean. And your journeys as well. I got to talk to him about his journeys before he disappeared, but I’d like to hear your thoughts and experiences, too.”

Ever since Sora and Riku had come home from their first adventure, she’d gathered stories. Losing her memories once was awful, and she never wanted it to happen again. Chronicling her friend’s memories like this reassured her there was some record out there that didn’t rely solely on something as malleable as memory, and she now had pages and pages of notes.

“Sure thing,” Goofy said, so she dug around in her bag for her notebook and favorite gel pen. Once she was settled in, she took notes as Goofy spoke and Donald chimed in. Hearing stories about Sora helped her feel closer to him. Stories of his (mis)adventures and daring deeds, his moments of vulnerability and happiest memories, his corny jokes and hopeless romantic tendencies. And since she couldn’t go after him herself right now, this was the closest she could get to being close to him. 

Later that evening, as she was poring over her notes and reliving Donald and Goofy’s memories in the privacy of her quarters, she chewed on the end of her pen. Was it wrong to be a little upset at Riku? Upset at herself, too, for caving so easily, for not even fighting for the chance to go with him? For giving up so easily on an opportunity to save Sora? Hearing stories about him just made her want to be with him that much more. Waiting wasn’t good enough. Training wasn’t good enough. How could she even stay behind, safe and sound, while Riku was risking his life to save Sora? And after Sora had sacrificed himself for her. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

Sora, forgive me, she thought sadly. I wanted to go after you, but after facing off against Xehanort in my dream… Not even being able to handle a dream version of him without your help… I’m scared I’d just let you down again. Or worse, get you hurt or killed for real. And I can’t… I can’t bear to lose you again. So for now, I’ll train with Aqua, okay? That… feels like the right thing to do. I think.

She sighed deeply. No matter how much she tried to convince herself, she was still disappointed she wasn’t searching for Sora with Riku right now. She should be with him. Why did she have to train and train and train when Sora and Riku got to learn by experience? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, and she was sick of being shunted to the sidelines. 

“It’s because you’re weak,” she said with a frown as she drew an angry face in the margins of her notes. “You hold everyone else back. And Sora had to pay the price for your weakness. It’s your fault he’s gone.” 

No.

She gasped and dropped the pen. Scrawled on the page in purple ink next to her angry face was the message. N-o. Short, simple, to the point. 

The handwriting was not her own. 

“Sora?” she asked, resting a hand over her heart. But she heard nothing; felt nothing. “Oh, right. Xehanort, or whoever that really was, said you’re without a voice. I wonder what he meant by that.” 

She fumbled around for her pen, then put it to the paper. “Sora? I don’t know how this is possible, but if there’s anything you really want to tell me, um, I don’t mind if you… take over for a little while?”

That was what had happened, right? He’d taken control of her body to fight for her, and his heart had manifested. Somehow. Was a part of his heart inside her? Or had the paopu fruit really bound them together like the stories said it would? 

“Any time now, I promise I don’t mind,” she said, feeling a little silly for talking out loud like this. But if Sora really could hear her, maybe it wasn’t so silly after all.  

She waited, and waited, and waited. The little cuckoo clock in the corner went off, the little cuckoo bird popping out to announce it was past her bedtime, past her bedtime, past her bedtime. She sighed and started doodling again. Little drawings of Sora’s smile because she missed seeing the real thing. But nothing else happened; if he really was the one who’d left her that message earlier, he was either gone or unavailable now. Or maybe… maybe the connection wasn’t strong enough right now. Maybe it went in and out like her Gummiphone’s reception did when Donald drove through a particularly thick asteroid field. 

Was there a way to strengthen the connection so Sora could communicate with her more easily? She combed her brain for answers. He’d manifested the first time to protect her because she was in danger. Then that message had shown up on her notes when she’d been down on herself. 

She tapped her pen on the paper. “The common connection… The common connection… The first time, I needed help, and the second time, I was being down on myself. Maybe it’s linked to my feelings somehow? My heart?”

She flipped to a new page and jotted her thoughts down. Maybe Aqua could help her sort all of this out. Sure, a part of her still wanted to search for Sora with Riku right now, but maybe Sora wasn’t as far away as they’d thought. 

Maybe the key to finding him rested in her heart. Or at least one of the keys. That was what she and Riku and the star-girl they’d met in the Final World were, right? The girl’s key led to the unreality, Quadratum. Riku was following that clue because his key had been those dreams about Quadratum. But the other key… 

She rested her hand over her heart and smiled. For the first time since suggesting she train with Aqua, she had a clear sense of what to do next. She would train with Aqua all right, but not just in fighting and wielding a Keyblade. Aqua was a skilled mage, and if anyone could help Kairi figure this all out, she could. 

Closing the notebook, Kairi lay back on the bed and smiled. “Hang in there, Sora. Riku’s coming for you, and I’ll make my connection to you stronger, I swear.” 

The Gummi Ship would be arriving on the Land of Departure tomorrow, and then her training would begin in earnest. Someday soon Sora would come home to them, of that she was certain. Then they could finally be together like they’d promised. 

She rolled over and stared up at the stars. Whether the unreality had stars or not, she knew all worlds, all realities, shared the same sky.

“See you soon.”

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

A/N: I finished Melody of Memory yesterday, and the plot bunnies soon took hold 😂I wanted to explore Riku and Kairi’s mental states after the events of the game, plus a few plot speculation/headcanon things that popped into my mind, and this was the result. I have some general thoughts on the game overall that I might put together in a separate post, but for now, this is my initial reaction. Thank you for reading! 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Hot Chocolate (and Goddamn Marshmallows)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~2530

Warnings: It’s SO FLUFFY. Straight up marshmallow fluff. Just a dash of angst for seasoning. Um. No warnings that I can think of. 

A/N: Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for checkin it over. For @katymacsupernatural​ and her 6K Golden challenge! Congrats Katy! 

“I fuckin’ can’t, man, I barely made it here to begin with, Baby was slippin’ all over the place,” Dean grumbles. He holds the phone awkwardly between his shoulder and his ear so that he can pour another glass of whiskey. He only has half a bottle; if he can’t get out tomorrow, he’s fucked.

Even aside from the alcohol situation, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. He’s supposed to be at Jody’s, drinking eggnog and doing all the Hallmark bullshit with his family, but if the snow doesn’t stop early… well, fuck that, he’ll find a way. He’s gotta make it back for Christmas. 

“The cabin’s still stocked from the last time we were there, right?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah, I won’t starve to death, at least,” Dean says, trying to keep his voice light. It’s the truth, although the cabinets basically contain black beans, a couple packs of ramen, and some skunked beer. Dean won’t starve, but this is just not how he wanted to spend his night. This Christmas was supposed to be different. 

“Still not gonna tell me what was so important up there?” Sam says. 

“Nope.” 

It’s his own fault, really. Sam told him about the Christmas plan a month ago. It had taken Dean a while to figure out where Mom’s stuff had been stored without Sammy realizing what he was up to, and then their last hunt took longer than they’d expected… it was just one thing after another, and he’d been in such a rush to get up here he hadn’t checked the weather forecast. Typical. 

“Fuck,” Sam sighs. “It’s supposed to let up tomorrow, we’ll mount a rescue mission, okay? Donna’s got four wheel drive, I think.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says gruffly, and he clears his throat, trying to sound cheerful. How many Christmases has he spent, now, telling Sam not to worry? It’s a Winchester family tradition. “I’ll figure something out. Give everybody hugs for me. Tell Jody she better save me some of that pork roast.” 

“Love you,” Sam says quietly. 

Dean kinda likes the big goddamn marshmallow who’s replaced his brother lately. Amazing what Eileen and a general lack of apocalypses have done for the kid’s temperament. 

“Love ya, Sammy. See you tomorrow, one way or another. Hey, don’t do it without me, okay?” 

Sam laughs at him. “Obviously. Bye, Dean.” 

Dean hangs up and looks down at the little box on the table. As much as this situation fuckin’ blows, Sam’s reaction is gonna be priceless. 

He opens the box again, peeking for the zillionth time before he slips it into his pocket. It’s still surreal to think about that ring on someone else’s hand. Mom stopped wearing it at some point after she came back, and Sam probably assumes it’s long gone. 

He’d said something about how Eileen’s practical, they talked about it, she doesn’t want him to go out and blow a bunch of money on jewelry, they can pick out the actual bands together when it’s time… but Dean’s pretty fuckin’ excited to see the expression on his face. And hers, of course. Practical as she may be, Eileen’s a goddamn marshmallow too. 

Dean’s happy for Sam, he really is. Sometimes he just feels a little lonely, watching the two of them; must be nice, having someone look at you like that. They just kinda fit. They finish each other’s fuckin’ sentences, sometimes, or sign the same things at the same time, moving in perfect unison, and Sam just smiles so much more than he used to. Dean looks at the way they are together and thinks it looks comfortable, like a warm fuzzy fuckin’ blanket, and he’s only just starting to realize that sometimes… sometimes he gets really cold, is all. Sometimes he could use a little more warm fuzzy in his life. 

Like, hey, now, for example. He shivers and drains the last of his glass, pours himself a fresh one, and then he shakes off the melancholy and goes to get a fire started. 

There’s no cable, or anything, but they hooked up an old DVD player to an even older TV a couple years back. Dean finds a stack of dusty DVD cases and shuffles through them, rolling his eyes at the selection. Love Actually? How the fuck did that end up here? 

Or… huh. Now he thinks about it, there’s a chance he might have bought it at the dollar store, one time, while feeling mildly tipsy and severely sentimental. He also has a vague recollection of he and Sam both getting a little bit teared up while watching it. Just a little. 

Dean looks down at his drink and sighs. It’s gonna be a maudlin drunk kinda night. Might as well just put on a chick flick, while he’s at it. He tops up his glass, puts in the disc, throws another log on the fire, and settles onto the massive, squashy couch. 

Fuck his fuckin’ luck, seriously. There’s just this cold, dull ache in his chest that won’t seem to go away, and even though he keeps trying to tell himself that it might end up okay, the snow might stop in time, he can’t seem to shake it. Baby’s not at her best in the snow, what are the odds? He can’t ask Sam to drive however many fuckin’ hours to come pick him up, he won’t ask, and he just wishes a single damn thing would go right, for a change. 

He knuckles at his eyes and pours another drink, but no matter how much whiskey he puts away, he can’t seem to warm up. 

***

About an hour in, as he’s eyeing the whiskey bottle and deciding whether he should just go ahead and polish the thing off, there’s a knock on the door.  

“The fuck,” Dean mutters. He’s stumbling awkwardly to his feet, reaching for the gun he’d put on the coffee table, when the door slams open, letting in a gust of freezing-cold air and a flurry of snowflakes. There’s a figure in the doorway: massive coat, bundled up, and they’re carrying two big paper bags, and Dean blinks stupidly for a second, gun still cocked. 

Is that -

“Holy shit,” he blurts out. He sets the gun down and rushes to help her, but she’s already kicking the door closed behind her, setting the groceries down, and by the time he gets over there she’s unwinding the scarf from around her face so that he can see her eyes, sparkling and happy, her flushed cheeks, her bright smile. 

“Good to see you, Dean,” she says, still breathless from the cold. He wraps her in a bear hug, stunned and speechless. 

“Holy shit,” he says again, eventually, as she pulls away to get her gigantic puffy coat off. There are snowflakes caught in her hair and she’s beaming at him, and she laughs at his look of disbelief; she’s got the cutest fuckin’ laugh, Christ. 

“Little birdy told me you might need some company,” she says. She’s giving him this impish smile and he wants to say something clever, but all he can do is wipe a hand down his face and shake his head. 

“Shit, how’d you even get up here? Roads were bad when I got in.” 

“Maybe for your little Baby,” she grins, shrugging off the big coat and stomping snow off her boots. “But it wasn’t a big deal for the truck. The plows will be out tonight, we can hit the road as soon as the sun’s up. I’d say let’s go now but I hate driving in the dark when it’s snowing. it’s like making the jump to hyperspace, y’know?” 

Dean blinks slowly at her. “Wait, seriously?” 

“You know, when the snow comes at the windshield and it looks- ”

“No, I mean, we’ll be able to get out? You’re really… you don’t have to drive me all that way, shit.” 

“I mean, unless you’re set on sticking around? Got big plans?” She glances pointedly over his shoulder to where Love Actually is still playing, and Dean makes a face, but he’s so relieved he’s getting a little bit choked up. 

“Options were limited.” 

“Hey, you’re in luck. I came prepared.” She grabs her big puffy coat and rummages in pockets until she pulls out a DVD case. Dean’s mouth drops open. 

“Die Hard? You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re my favorite.” 

She rolls her eyes and shrugs it off, but she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet a little, like she’s pleased with herself. “Here, help me with these?”

She picks up the grocery bag and brings it to the kitchen, and Dean trails after her with the second, which (judging by the clinking when he sets it on the counter) is mostly booze. She pulls out a pie, first, one of the supermarket ones in its plastic box. His stomach does a happy little flip-flop, and he has to hug her again. He wraps his arms around her from behind and squeezes hard. Her hair smells the same as he remembers. 

“Did you turn into a marshmallow when I wasn’t around?” she teases, and Dean blushes. 

“Guess it runs in the family,” he says quietly, laughing, and he steps away. 

“Huh? 

“Never mind. I might’ve had a couple drinks. Gettin’ sappy.” He leans against the counter next to her as she starts to unpack more food. “Last I saw you, you were in New York. Are you back in this neck of the woods? You shoulda called!” 

“Just came back recently. I guess Jody heard through the grapevine, she’s the one who called me. My dad died,” she says matter-of-factly. “Been staying at his place trying to get everything sorted out.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

She shoots him a little sideways half-smile and pulls out a carton of eggnog, a bottle of Jack, and a bottle of peppermint schnapps. “Thanks. I don’t mind being back, mostly, but I’m glad she called. The holidays have kinda been a bummer this year.” 

“I know how that goes,” Dean says wryly. 

“Yeah. Nice to have something to do. When Jody found out I was gonna be alone she about had a cow, so I guess I’m having Christmas with you guys now. Anyway, I can never say no to rescuing a damsel in distress.” 

She winks, and Dean’s so goddamn charmed right now it takes a second to realize she just called him a damsel. 

“Hey,” he protests. He tries to look affronted, but she’s giggling, so it’s probably not working. 

“Should we start with the ‘nog? Or peppermint hot chocolate?” she muses. 

“Dealer’s choice.” 

“Hot chocolate it is. Boil some water?” 

Dean grabs the old kettle while she peers at mugs, trying to find a couple that aren’t too dusty. He sneaks a glance at her out of the corner of his eye; she’s pretty, Christ, and she’s all pink-cheeked from the cold, biting her lip absentmindedly, and… yeah. Dean maybe can’t stop staring. 

She catches him looking, but she just smiles back, shy and sweet, and starts pouring hot cocoa mix into two passably clean mugs. 

“You never told me what you’re doing up here,” she remarks. “Secret Christmas mission, Jody said?” 

Dean fumbles for the ring box and shows her. “Had to get something out of storage.” 

Her eyes go wide and shocked, and her mouth opens and closes silently for a second. 

“Oh,” she says, voice strained, looking down at her hands. “I didn’t realize you were…” 

“No, not for me!” he says hastily. “God, no. Not for me. For Sam.” 

“Oh!” she says, high-pitched. She laughs and fidgets nervously with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh, okay.”  

Dean doesn’t think he’s imagining the look of relief on her face, and something in his chest goes all fluttery. 

“I am very single,” he says, and he can’t quite manage to keep his tone casual. “Just… to make it clear.” 

She nods, trying to hold back a smile, like she’s laughing at him but also maybe (hopefully) like she’s charmed at the same time. 

“Good,” she says softly. 

***

Dean doesn’t remember falling asleep. When he wakes up, sometime in the middle of the night, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. 

He feels sorta dazed, like maybe he’s still tipsy. That’s normal enough. What’s not normal is the person next to him; they’re curled around each other, fully clothed, and she’s tucked under his arm with her hand resting on his chest. They must’ve dozed off during the movie. Dean smiles to himself. 

The fire’s mostly embers at this point, and he should get up, put a log on, before it dies completely. Maybe he should just go to his room, too; find her a blanket and then give her some space. That’d be the gentlemanly thing to do. 

He takes a second to breathe, first. There’s something so perfect about the moment. He wants to memorize the way she feels, curled against his side, the way they fit together, the way her hair smells, the way her breath tickles his neck when she exhales. He feels boneless and heavy-limbed, like he could melt into the couch cushions, but there’s this tightness in his chest, the knowledge that he should enjoy this while he can, because it won’t last. It never does. 

He’s careful when he gets up, trying to slip away without disturbing her, and he’s quiet as he stokes the fire. When it’s blazing again, he grabs a big quilt from the back of a chair and covers her up, tucking her in gently. He turns to head to bed. 

“Hey, wait,” she murmurs sleepily. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Where’re you going?” she asks. When he looks back, the fire is illuminating the adorable grumpy pout on her face, and she’s all sleepy-eyed and pillow-creased and fucking gorgeous. 

Dean shrugs. 

“Come back?” she asks. 

He slides under the quilt, and she snuggles close. When she tilts her face up to look him in the eye, her skin glows orange-gold in the firelight. She leans in slow, pausing just before their lips meet, and when they kiss Dean feels it through his entire body, liquid heat curling out to his toes. Her mouth is soft, and she makes this sweet, happy sound when he sucks on her lower lip; it makes his head spin, and he cups her cheek in one hand, feels her velvety skin under his fingers. 

Her lashes flutter when she pulls back, her eyes still half-closed. 

“Go to sleep, Dean,” she whispers. “We’ve got a long drive in the morning.�� 

She fits herself against his side, nuzzling into his neck, sighing contentedly, and he strokes her hair until her breathing evens out again. 

He likes the way she fits in his arms, and he likes the sweet smell of her hair all mixed in with the woodsmoke. He likes the weight of her on his chest and the heat of her body against his, the way she’s wrapped around him, the way she’s half draped over him like a living blanket. 

Warm and fuzzy, he thinks, and he’s smiling as he falls asleep.

.

.

.

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[alrightbookreviews]

Shadow and Bone

by Leigh Bardugo

book: 7/10

show: 9/10

Alright so i’m assuming most of y’all have heard of this book after the Netflix series came out like a week ago and are like “damn i shoulda read the book” or maybe not. but if not then idk why ur even on my blog but whatever. i read this book like a month or two ago before i even knew about the show so it was a strange coincidence for me but i was excited for the show bc the book was pretty decent. so i sat down to watch the show w pretty low expectations bc the movies are never better than the books (duh) but i ended up liking the show WAY more than the book and here’s why.

So basically, the plot of the book is this chick named alina who draws maps i guess has this friend named mal (who she grew up at an orphanage with) and she has been high key in love w him basically her whole life and he is so fucking clueless so he doesn’t pick up on it at all. but they get sent on a boat across this big black cloud thing called the “shadow fold” w spooky monsters in it. so you’re probably thinking “oh okay since they took a boat, the shadow fold must be over water” wrong. it’s over some crusty ass sand and instead of getting something with wheels they drag this big ass boat across dry land which makes 0 sense to me but okay. also i should probably mention that there are people w like magic powers or some shit but i’ll get to that later. anyways, so alina and her bestie end up on this boat goin across the big spooky cloud with some other rando people. another design flaw of the boat that really bothers me is the fact that there are EVIL FLYING MOSTERS up in this dark ass cloud and instead of like putting everyone below deck or whatever, they jus have everyone vibing out in the open for the monsters to snatch. so of course, the monsters start snatching bitches. and mal gets snatched and alina is like omg no and then she passes the fuck out. very wild stuff. so they make it out of the shadow fold somehow and alina wakes up and these guard dudes are draggin her to the fancy magic people tent. i think now is a good time to explain the magic people so ima do that. so basically there are all these people with magic powers called “grisha” which is kinda confusing bc it sounds a lot like geisha but whatever. there’s like a bunch of different powers and they all have wacky names that i can never remember so i just call them the wind people, the water people, the fire people, the heart people, the healing people, and the builder people. the names are pretty self explanatory. but then there’s this one guy called “the darkling” which is the dumbest name to ever exist omfg i laughed over it for a WHILE. so y’all can probably guess what his power is based off of his stupid name. he makes the shadows move oooo spooky. and he can also use the shadows to chop people in half. i guess. so back to the story, they drag alina to the darklings tent and he’s like “bitch u got powers” and she’s like “nah fam” and he’s like “yeah watch” and he cuts her w a knife and she lights up. like she turns into a human lightbulb. and she’s like “damn okay so like that’s what happened on the boat when i passed the fuck out” so they take her to the palace bc i guess she’s the first person to ever have that power and it’s important bc it can get rid of the shadow fold or whateva. and basically the rest of the book is her trying to figure out her powers and the darkling trying to find this deer whose antlers will amplify her power and alina complaining about living in a castle blah blah blah.

so here’s why the show is better than the book:

her friend/guy she’s in love with is so fucking toxic in the book. he’s such a bitch to her and she’s just like lol okay ily and i’m like wtf? why do u like this piece of shit? he’s just rude man. and in the show i actually liked him. he tried his hardest to get to the palace and find her after they took her away unlike in the book when he didn’t do shit and when she finally saw him again he was mad at her for some reason idk i was like bro u gotta chill. so i’m glad he was chill in the show.

the darkling’s name in the show is “general kirigan” which is also pretty lame but SO much better than the darkling. no debate.

leigh bardugo has 7 books total taking place in this little universe (the shadow and bone trilogy, six of crows duology, and the king of scars duology) and they threw some of the characters from six of crows into the show for some reason. i was a little skeptical of how that was gonna go before the show came out bc shadow and bone and six of crows take place at different times and also i haven’t read six of crows yet but omg. i loved them. it’s this little squad of this ninja bitch, some guy w a cane who is hot af and (my favorite) this gay dude who mostly just talks about a goat. they were baddies and i was so happy they made a lil plot for them and put them in the show.

and those are really the only reasons. idk. i’d recommend both the book and the show but definitely the show a lil bit more.

now it’s time to talk some shit about everyone. (SPOILERS!!)

jesper: okay something important i need to say that my mom mentioned as we were watching the show: wouldn’t it have stank like shit when jesper fucked that one guy in the stables??? like dude no. literally do it ANYWHERE but there pls and thank u.

kaz: jesus fuck make a move you goddamn pussy holy shit

inej: okay first of all the actress who played her was GORGEOUS and she’s such a badass. kaz and jesper can’t do SHIT compared to her.

alina: she lowkey annoyed me a lil bit in the show. she ended up being the one who was a dick to mal instead of the other way around and it kinda made me sad but whatever. also the antlers in her skin omfg i gagged every time i saw it it was fucking disgusting.

mal: dear book mal, go fuck yourself. dear netflix mal, ily boo <3

the darkling/general kirigan: they chose an old ass dude to play him in the show. like in the book even though he’s like hundreds of years old, he’s only supposed to look like 20 and the homeboy who played him in the show is 39. mmm no. poor little 25 year old jessie who had to make out with this grandpa motherfucker.

genya: wtf was that tall ass collar she was wearing?? made the bitch look like she had no neck.

david: 🧍‍♂️. also you traitor motherfucker.

baghra: we needed more of her. i love that crusty bitch. kinda upset that she attacked mal in the show but whatever he was fine i guess? idk i liked her a lot more in the book lol.

nina: idk who tf this bitch was bc she aint in the book. her lil plot was boring tbh.

milo: queen milo i live for you.

and that’s it. thank u for reading.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Nine

Now

Clint opened his eyes slowly. He wasn’t asleep, but with his hearing aids out, it wasn’t your walking towards him that prompted it. It was the light touch of your fingers on his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up, worried. “Are you okay?”

You nod slowly and take a deep breath, “Can I sleep with you?”

He felt his heart flutter, and he smiled, “Forget your teddy bear?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, cheeks heating.

“Come’er,” he coaxed, shoving the quilt aside to pull you onto the couch with him. He’s dimly aware that he could sleep with you in your bed. But if that’s what you wanted, that’s what you would have said. You wanted to be here. So here he’d keep you. He holds his arms out, and you go. Snuggling close, your head on his shoulder so you can bury your face in his neck. It reminds Clint irresistibly of a little kid seeking comfort in a storm. And he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had trouble sleeping. And been emotional. He’s seen you tear up at the drop of a hat again and again. And he has questions. A lot of questions. 

But they can wait. 

Because lying in the semi-darkness, staring at the moon out the window, he can almost understand what you mean when you say that the moon is singing as he watches dustmotes and fireflies. Because you’re here. And you’re safe. And because he’s sure that he loves you. He loves you in ways he can’t put to words. But he knows because you feel like home. The smell of your shampoo and the warmth of your breath tickling his neck. The feel of your fingers tangled in his shirt, clinging to him for comfort like a teddy bear. It’s home. This is home. And even if he never gets to do this again, he has right now. And it’s perfect. So perfect. And he never wants to go to sleep. But, like any time he wants to stay awake, there’s no running from rest. It sneaks up on him like you do during laser tag. And then, all he knows is nothing. Nothing except the best sleep he’s had in 10 years. 

In the morning, he wakes up alone, but the smell of coffee breakfast cooking gets him to his feet. He finds his hearing aids, putting them in as he wanders into your kitchen, “Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hey,” you answer, “Hungry?” You hold out a cup of coffee, and he crosses the floor to take it. 

“Starving,” he said, taking a seat at the breakfast bar to watch you work.

“I hope you like blueberry,” you say apologetically, “I bought way too many at the farmers market.”

He grins and tilts his head, “Babe, when have I EVER complained about pancakes?”

“True,” you answer, flipping a cake onto the plate and adding a couple more with butter and bacon. 

He takes the plate and groans, “This looks amazing.”

Your cheeks heat, and you don’t answer right away. Turning to start doing some cleaning up. “I’m sorry I woke you up last night.”

“I’m not,” he garbled around a mouthful of food before he swallowed, “That was the best sleep I had in forever... Forgot how good I sleep with someone cuddling me.”

He knows he’s probably making you anxious. That you don’t know how to handle someone refusing to let you feel bad. But the thing is, he hates that you do that. That you flay yourself over any little thing. And he refuses to let you. Not over something as small as asking for comfort. 

“How do you feel?” he asked after the silence had stretched on for a few minutes. 

You sigh, and he can see you weighing an answer. “It’s... weird,” you tell him. “I don’t regret my choice. But my hormones fucking do. So I can logically think about what I’m feeling but... Fuck if I can do anything effective about it.”

Clint blinks for a second. He hadn’t considered that. It just wasn’t on his radar. “That- that sounds like hell,” he murmured. 

“It is,” you say, exhaling slowly, “But- it’s for the best. I can’t- I mean. Looking after me is a full-time job... And I can’t really see Bucky helping me do little league or girl scouts.”

Clint snorted bitterly, “No. Probably not.”

He wanted to add that he would. But this wasn't the right time. You were tearing up again and trying not to cry. 

You look away for a minute, and Clint stays quiet, eating and wondering if you’re going to make a plate or if you just cooking for something to do. When you put the rest of the food away without a dish of your own, he winces, “No breakfast?” he asks gently.

“I tried a bite earlier. It didn’t work.”

Clint cock his head, “Didn’t work?”

“I couldn’t swallow, and it just didn’t taste good.”

He still doesn’t get it. It’s amazing. But then. Food was a tricky thing for you, and it had been as long as he’d known you. Sometimes shit like that just happened when you didn’t feel well. Nothing tasted good. You had to struggle to eat.  Or other times, you ate fine. There was no rhyme or reason to it. 

Clint nods and goes to wash his plate, “Well, what do you need, babe?”

“Just some time,” you tell him with a small smile, “maybe some cuddles. I came out here to basically wallow and wait for the storm to pass. Plan my next move.”

“Home,” Clint insists, “Please come home.”

“Why?” your tone is soft. You genuinely want to know. It’s not sarcastic or bitter or angry. You just want to know.

“Because it is home. Because I- Because we love you,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Because Dr. Strange isn’t as fun on missions. And because everything feels weird without you.”

You sigh, “But-”

“I know,” he said, “You’re scared to go back. To face Bucky. But you’re gonna be fine, baby girl. I’m not gonna let him hurt you. Whatever made him think this was okay, I’ll beat it out of him if I have to. I mean, hell... I think Bruce was just gonna go beat him to death. And not as the Hulk.”

You open your mouth to answer, and he puts a hand over it gently, “You don’t have to decide now,” he soothes, “Just let me be here for you. I mean. I have no idea what I’m doing, but... Please don’t just wallow out here alone.”

You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, looking for comfort, and he sets his plate down, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head. “You have time,” he reminds gently, “So take it.”

You thud your head against his sternum and groan, “I can’t- I just. I knew he didn’t love me, but-” you trail off and swallow hard. 

“You wanted him to,” Clint finished, “so when he started being nice, you kinda forgot.”

“I just. I wanted it so much.”

Clint nods, “I had that. A few times. And I still haven’t learned.”

He tilts your chin up and smiles a little, “How old were you when you left home?”

“I was 12 when they threw me out,” you murmur, “I got my period and my powers in the same week... They threw me out after my stepdad was screaming at me for... fuck knows what. He was about to shove me, and I yelled, “Stop... and he did. He fucking froze mid-swing at the top  of the stairs.”

You snort, “Not even an hour later, I was on a greyhound bus going who knows where... Worst. Birthday. Ever.”

Clint smiles a little, “Have you seen anyone since?”

You shake your head, “They reported me as a runaway, but then... after a few days, everyone just kinda stopped looking.”

“You shoulda joined the circus,” Clint teased. 

“And step all over your tragic backstory?” you counter, “Fuck that. I needed my own.”

Clint is quiet for a long minute, and you sigh. 

“Sometimes,” you say slowly, “I wish my mom was someone I wanted to call.”

“You can call Nat,” Clint said, “She’s low key worried about you.” He knows it isn’t the same. But he wants to remind you how fucking loved you are. That you deserve the love, they’re all giving you. Even now. 

“I know I can,” you answer, “I could have- probably should have told her everything but-”

Clint kisses your head, “But you didn’t want to be told what to do or how to feel.”

You nod.

“I know we treat you like a baby,” he says, “But... you are. I mean. You’re a baby to all of us in different ways.”

“What about you?”

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass,” he says, grinning, “but Christ, are you cute.”

“Clint-” you start.

“I mean, I love you. I really love you... I don’t think I figured that out until you were demanding that I bring Lucky to see you, though... Such a brat.”

He smiles a little sadly, “I know you’re all heartbroken and shit. I know you probably never want to have anything to do with men again, but... Just know. I’m not laying in wait. I looked for you because I missed my friend. And if all we ever are is friends, babe. That’s all I need. So don’t- I mean. Don’t feel like obligated or anything. I mean. Lucky needs a mom, but you can be his favorite person without dating me.”

You giggle, and Clint lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Clint, you dummy,” you groan, voice muffled by his chest, “I love you.”

“I know,” he answers, resting his cheek on your head. And he did know. It was an immutable fact. The sun was going to come up, and you loved him. The way you loved all of them. And that- even if it wasn’t romantic, was no small thing. Even if it didn’t mean getting married and having babies, it was still comfortable just being near you. 

“But, he rumbles, “If you go be with Bucky after all this...”

You shake your head, “If I ever see him again, he’s gonna wish he’d just killed me,” you say. It isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. Punctuated by a casual tilt of your head that makes your neck pop. And Clint shivers reflexively. The last time he saw you do that, you were getting ready to rip someone’s head off. Literally. 

“I’m not sure if that just made me scared or Horny,” he said out loud.

And when you laugh, the butterflies in his stomach take wing.

Tags:

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[detectivejigsawpines]

Relatively Relativity-part 3 (If you give a grunkle Mabel Juice)

Whoa...that was a crazy weird dream…where am I?

Soos slowly opened his eyes-and screamed again when he saw an unfamiliar, wrinkly old man staring down at him anxiously.

“Aaaaah!  Who are you?!  What do you want?!  Where’s Mr. Pines?!”

The old man sighed, and leaned his chin on his hand.  “This is gonna be a recurring thing, isn’t it?”

Something about that voice...plus the thick lumberjack hat perched on his head that looked a lot like the one Wendy used to wear…

“Wait a sec.”  Soos sat up, realizing that he was on the sofa in his break room (even if he was technically in charge now, he still used it as such).  He narrowed his eyes at the old man.  “...Dipper?”

Dipper smiled at him-and even though he was all gray and wrinkled now, Soos could see his buddy peeking out through his face.  “Yeah, Soos.  It’s me.  There was...a bit of an incident on our hike.”

Before Soos could ask for more details, the door burst open again, and the same kid who’d scared him earlier came tramping in, followed by an old woman in a purple sweater who had to be a newly-old Mabel.

“Is he awake yet?”

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper scolded, whirling around to glare at him, “I told you to wait until I called you!”

“Yeah, yeah.”  He brushed his curls out of his face, and grinned at Soos shamelessly, showing that he had a tooth missing.  “How d’ya like the new look?”

Soos’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times as he looked over the little guy standing in front of him.  Finally he asked, voice quivering a little, “...Mr. Pines?”

“Uh-huh.  New and improved!”  He put his hands on his hips and puffed out his skinny chest as far as it would go.

The smile was wiped off his face when Soos finally registered the truth that he’d been resisting, but could not be ignored: “You’re adorable now, Mr. Pines!!!!”

Immediately his still-pretty-bushy eyebrows drew together in a scowl.  “Say that again and you’re fired!”

Soos shrank away at once.  Anything but that!

“He’s the boss of the Mystery Shack now, you can’t fire him!” old-Mabel protested.

“I’m the one who gave him the job, so I can so!”

“But you shouldn’t!  Not for this!”

Stan folded his arms and turned away, grumbling.

“Wait a minute.  If you guys have switched ages, does that mean that Other Mr. Pines is ad-” he saw the warning glare in Stan’s eye, and quickly changed words- “a kid now too?”

“Yeah; he’s down in the basement analyzing the thing that made us like this.”  Mabel sat down on the other end of the sofa.  “We were hiking, and saw this really cool flower…”

********

Ford realized fairly quickly some more of the deficiencies of his new body.  For one thing, when he got to the basement he started to put on his lab coat-only to remember after doing so that his arms and legs were both a lot smaller, so very quickly he was swamped in seemingly an avalanche of white.  He tried rolling up the sleeves, and then pinning them up with safety pins, until at last he gave up in frustration and just hung it back on the rack (causing him further annoyance, because while he wasn’t that short, he still had to stand on tiptoe to get it on the right hook).

At least he was still capable of wearing safety goggles, he thought ruefully as he climbed up onto one of his chairs and pulled on a pair of now-absolutely-huge latex gloves.

Then he forgot about his predicament for a while, as he examined the flower.

********

“...so until we figure out what the flower did to us, looks like we’re kinda stuck like this,” Dipper concluded.

Soos nodded thoughtfully.  “Dude.  This is intense.”  Then his eyes widened.  “Wait, if you guys got stuck like this, would that mean that you little dudes-” he glanced at Dipper and Mabel, and then corrected himself- “little old-old but used to be little-dudes would die sooner, cuz you’re like super old now?”

“Hey!” Stan protested.  “We’re not that old!”

“You said you were pushing seventy!” Mabel squeaked, eyes going wide with panic.

Dipper already looked like he was about to start hyperventilating again.

“...I was lying!  I faked it on my driver’s license so I could get lots of senior citizen discounts and stuff!  We’re only, like, fifty-seven!  Almost fifty-eight!”  Stan quickly scurried around until he was between his elderly niblings, and put his arms as far around them as he could reach.  “And either way, there’s no way we’re gonna let you guys get stuck like this, okay?  We’re gonna figure this out, and get you back to normal, and you won’t haveta be stuck in gross old bodies for a long, looong time.”

“Hey!”  Dipper swatted the back of his head; Stan grinned at him shamelessly.

“I’m just tellin’ it like it is, gramps.”

“Being turned into a kid again is making you even more of a twerp than usual,” Dipper scolded, though while wearing a smile as he gave him a playful jab in the ribs, and Mabel dove in from his other side to vigorously noogie him.

********

It was another hour before Ford emerged into the light.  His eyebrows were pinched together, and he was chewing his lip as he stepped into the kitchen-none of those was a good sign.

“What’s the word, Sixer?” Stan asked; he was standing on a chair and making Stancakes, under the belief that having breakfast for lunch would, if nothing else, make everyone feel just a little bit better.

Ford grimaced.  “Well, the good news is that my analysis indicates the pollen is not toxic, and doesn’t seem to be inherently harmful.  The bad news is, I’m having trouble figuring out what they’re made of or what kind of magic is in them that caused us to turn into...this.”  He gestured between the four of them.  “It would be much easier if we could collect a live specimen of the plant-we’ll have to go back to the forest and see if we can find one.”

“Good idea!” Mabel chirped, pulling a pitcher of sparkling pink liquid out of the fridge.

Stan brought the skillet over to the table, and gave his brother an encouraging look.  “C’mon, Sixer!  You’ll think better when you get somethin’ in your gut!”

Ford sighed, and sat down at the table with far less resistance than he usually would have.  “What’s on the menu?”

“Stancakes-”

“And Mabel Juice!”

“Pass on the Mabel Juice,” Dipper muttered, filling his cup with water from the sink.

Mabel scoffed at him.  “Come on, Dipper, you’ve never even tried it!”  She filled her own cup with a generous amount.

“I don’t need to try it to know that it would probably send me into premature cardiac arrest.  Especially now that I’m old.”

Mabel stuck out her tongue at him, and then lifted it to her lips and began gulping it down.

And a few seconds later she spat it out, gagging.

“Ugh!  What’s wrong with this stuff?!”  She grabbed up the pitcher and stared at it, making the plastic dinosaurs turn and spin around in their liquid prison.

Dipper went to her side in concern.  “Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, I just-I don’t understand!  I just made this stuff this morning, it should be fine!  But it tastes all wrong, almost like it’s-”  Mabel froze, and her eyes went wide with the sort of horror that only comes from the realization of impending doom.  “...Too sweet.”

Stan snorted after a second.  “Now ya know how I feel about that stuff.”

Mabel shook her head a tiny bit.  “No, I-I love Mabel Juice!  I can’t not like it anymore, just cuz I’m old!”

Ford leaned over and patted her hand.  “It’s a very normal thing for tastes to change as you age.”

Mabel’s eyes had become very big and shiny, and her lip trembled; Ford realized that maybe the wasn’t the best train of thought to go down.  “...Don’t worry, we’ll figure out how to change you back so you can drink all the Mabel Juice you want.”

She managed a tiny smile.

“Wait a second…”

Stan abruptly grabbed the pitcher, and poured some of the juice into his erstwhile coffee mug.  “If it’s too sweet for you now that you’re old, maybe I can actually like this stuff now!”  He looked at Ford with wiggling eyebrows.  “You wanna try some?”

Ford grimaced.  “No thank you.”

Stan shrugged.  “Eh, just as well.  You probably couldn’t handle it.”

Ford’s eyes narrowed, and he shoved his cup over towards Stan.  “Fill it up, Stanley.”

He knew, and he knew that Stan knew, that he’d walked right into that one, but he didn’t flinch away as it was filled almost to the brim.

“Um, guys?” Dipper said, for the second time that day.  “Maybe this is a bad idea-”

They each took a drink.

********

Five minutes later

“I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO HANDLE THIS MUCH SUGAR SINCE I WAS IN MY TWENTIES!!!!” Stan hollered, tearing across the back yard so fast he was almost a blur.

“THIS STUFF WOULD’VE BEEN GREAT FOR HELPING ME GET THROUGH COLLEGE!  I COULD’VE STAYED UP AND STUDIED EXTRA HARD FOR ALLLLL MY EXAMS!” Ford yelled back, just before trying and failing to turn a cartwheel.  He landed clumsily on his rear, and the two boys nearly fell over laughing at each other.

“I feel like I could run a mile!  Or climb a mountain!  Or run up a mountain!  Has the world always been this colorful?  Am I talking too loud?”

“I don’t know!  I’m really not the best person to ask right now, because I’m under the influence just as much as you are!”

“Not so under it you can’t remember all your nerd vocab, though!”  Stan cackled, and then tilted his head thoughtfully.  “Huh...I shoulda said nerd words, so it’d rhyme.  Okay, do over!  You can still remember all your nerd words!”

From the porch, Dipper shook his head in mute horror.  Mabel, at least, had recovered from her despondency over her new aversion to Mabel Juice enough to record a video of her hyperactive mini-grunkles-who, it appeared, were now wrestling each other in the grass, laughing wildly.

“...We should really focus on going back to the trail and trying to find that flower,” Dipper pointed out.

“Yeah, well, tell that to them.”  Mabel pointed to the boys.  Neither of them seemed to be in any condition to focus on something important like finding an enchanted flower.

Dipper’s shoulders sagged.  “We’re not gonna get this fixed today.”

“That’s not the worst thing in the world, though, is it?”  Mabel smiled.  “It’s been years since they’ve been able to have this much fun together; we should give them a chance to enjoy it.”

“But what if there’s some kind of dangerous side-effects to our being stuck in these bodies for so long?  I don’t wanna be stuck like this all summer!”

“Grunkle Ford said he didn’t think the pollen stuff was dangerous!  Just relax, bro-bro!”  Mabel slung her arm around his shoulders and squeezed.  “They deserve a chance to be kids again, just for a little while!”

Dipper still had misgivings...but he had to admit that seeing Stan and Ford chasing each other around and throwing grass at each other was pretty cute to watch.

Even so, he hoped things could go back to normal (or what passed as normal for the Pines family) soon.

********

I’m in my late twenties, and I don’t think I could handle Mabel Juice.  As much as I like sugary food, there’s a history of diabetes in my family, and that stuff sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.

[johannstutt413]

Movie Night II: Penguin Style

(requested by lost-but-with-coffee)

“Hey, Angie!” Croissant spotted the Vulpo in the hall and ran after her. “Hey, you wanna come by Penguin tonight? We’re gonna watch a movie, and they lemme have a plus one to see if yer free.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing anything tonight. Usual time?”

The Forte nodded. “Yep, same ol’ same ol’. I think Mostima’s pickin’ the flick this time.”

“Alrighty.” A thought struck her. “Do you think they’d mind if I brought one, though, just in case?”

“Sure, if ya wanna, no ’un’s gonna stop ya. I’ll see ya tonight.”

Angelina momentarily turned off Croissant’s gravity. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Sorry. Still not used to...aw, forget it.” She gave her a kiss, as requested. “Now I’ll see ya tonight?”

“Go on, get!” The Vulpo set her free and giggled as her favorite Forte stumbled a little as she ran back to the office. Eventually, she’d teach her how to treat a girl properly, but she was fun enough to tease that she didn’t mind if it took a bit…

Later in the day, after picking the outfit she wanted Penguin Logistics to see her and Croissant together in, Angelina floated down to their Rhodes Island embedded HQ. It was nice they were easy to get to like this; back when it was just them stopping by every now and again, it made it hard to get in touch with Croissant, but now that the two companies were basically shacking up because of what happened half a year ago now, she always knew where to find her for a little pep talk and a lot of cuddling. The Forte might be a bit flat, but she was warm and inviting, and that more than made the difference.

Thinking snuggly thoughts, she arrived at the office early (habits of a Messenger) and walked inside to find everyone but Croissant already staking claims on the furniture. Texas had the central couch, one arm around Sora’s back and the other behind Exusiai’s; Bison and Mostima had the left loveseat to themselves; Emperor was reclining in Magallan’s lap in his armchair, remote at his side. Luckily, that left Angie’s favorite seat, the rightmost loveseat, for herself and Croissant, so she hovered over to it and sat down. “Hey, girls and Emperor!” She grinned as she landed on her cushion of choice.

“Hey, Angelina.” Bison, no longer offended by the teasing reference to the fact he was the only man Mostima had ever settled on, replied. “Croissant said she might be a bit late, but we don’t mind waiting for her.”

“That’s fine with me! Hey, Mostima, she told me you picked the movie, right?”

The fallen Sankta nodded, inscrutable as usual. “I wouldn’t call it a date night movie, but I think it’ll be interesting to see how everyone reacts.”

“She didn’t tell me what it is, either,” the Forte sighed. “Let’s just hope it’s not one of her ‘midnight watches.’”

“Her what?” Exu asked, shifting closer to Texas.

He shrugged. “I’ll tell you if I’m right or not.”

“I don’t remember anything like that...” She huffed. “You got a stick on you, Tex?”

“Here.” The Lupo slipped a Pocky between the angel’s lips, offering one to Sora as well. The not!Cautus, of course, took it with a smile.

At that point, the door to the office blew open as Croissant ran in, closing it quickly behind her. “Whew! That was a workout. Y’all don’t mind if I lock up behind me, do ya?”

“Lock up?” Sora leaned her head over the back of the couch, Pocky between her teeth. “Why do you need to lock up?”

“Aww, never mind then.” Without another word on the subject, she joined Angelina on the loveseat, scratching at her arm as she did.

The Vulpo frowned. “Is everything alright?” She whispered as Magallan’s drone dimmed the lights.

“Yeah, it’s all good.” Croissant reassured her, adjusting a bit so her girlfriend could sit on her leg. “Ran into Ceobe runnin’ around outside, she kinda nibbled on me.”

“Nibbled on you? That doesn’t sound like her.”

She smirked. “Maybe she wanted to know if my codename fit me.”

“We both know it’s because you love Victorian bakeries.” As the menu screen came on for the movie, Angelina’s attention drifted, along with everyone else’s. “Uh, Mostima...What kind of movie is this?”

“I shoulda guessed,” Bison sighed, shaking his head.

Unfazed by his disapproval, she answered Angie’s question. “It’s a new movie from the same studio that did ‘Bump in the Night.’ The reviews are better than most of what they make, so I thought it’d be a good choice.”

“It’s one of her midnight movies, definitely.” The Forte next to her grumbled. “She’ll watch these when I’m sleeping so I don’t have to put up with them, but she loves talking about them the next morning.”

“What’s wrong with this movie, Bison?” Texas shot a glance at the devilish Sankta who’d decided to curse their movie night with this.

By then, of course, she’d already pushed play. “You’ll see, Texas. You’ll see.”

The opening of the movie was slow. A group of Siracusan Lupos were walking the streets, being general goons (Sora felt Texas’ hand squeeze her far shoulder) with little more than the occasional expletive to keep it moving. Things took a sudden turn, however, when a white-haired Lupo, clearly Infected, jumped out from an alleyway and bit one of the gangsters on their arm. From there, the pacing and tone turned on its head as the four who managed to escape the alley found themselves running for their lives, occasionally fighting back for a brief moment against the absurdly fast-spreading hordes of Infected chasing them-

“What. The actual. Fuck.” Despite the gore and rather bigoted protrayal of the Infected, Penguin managed to sit through the entire movie. Much to the majority’s displeasure, particularly Texas’.

“This was really your go-to for a movie night?” Exusiai sighed. “No wonder you didn’t come to my parties.”

Sora was occupied soothing - and to a point, restraining - Texas. “It’s just a movie, Tex. Don’t take it out on the TV.”

“I thought it was interesting - a look into the mindset of the masses worried about Oripathy but uninformed about its mechanics.” Magallan had hidden behind Emperor for the violent parts, but had been somewhat invested in the story all the same.

“This really the best that studio’s got?” By contrast, he’d ignored the plot and been nonplussed by the low-quality gore effects. “I’ve seen amateur slashers with better blood. Almost like they never been brawling in the hood. It’s no good. Angel-face, you ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Angelina floated her movie into the air. “I brought one, if anyone wants to watch it?”

“Eh, I’ll take my chances out there. G’night, girls.” Emperor, and by extension Magallan as his carrier, left the office.

“Same.” Texas cracked her neck and stood up, quickly followed by Exu and Sora. “Need to cool off. The two of you good to head to the bar?”

The not!Cautus checked her pockets. “Um...yeah, I’ve got everything.”

“Karaoke time?” The Sankta asked her.

“Karaoke time,” she agreed. “Good night, everyone! See you tomorrow!”

The remaining quartet waved them goodbye before looking back at each other. Mostima sighed. “I didn’t mean to ruin the evening.”

“It’s fine, babe. So, Angelina, what’d you bring?”

“‘The Year Time Forgot.’” She sent it over to the DVD player and let it settle atop it. “It’s an older romdrama, but I haven’t seen it yet, and I thought if this was a date night...”

Bison looked at Mostima analytically. “You want to watch it, I assume?”

“She had me at ‘older movie I haven’t seen before,’” the Sankta agreed.

“Great!” Angie hopped out of Croissant’s lap and set it up. “Hey, Croissant, how’s that bite doing?”

The other two looked at the Forte warily. “Bite?” Bison asked, a trace of fear in his voice.

“Aww, it’s nothin’. Ceobe was runnin’ around, took a nibble off meh forearm, I’m fine.”

“...Was that why you wanted to lock the door?” He was shaking a little now. “To make sure she didn’t follow you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, Bison, I promise ye-” At that precise moment, a scream pierced the air from outside.

“...Now I definitely want to watch this,” Mostima muttered, walking over to the office doors and locking them.

“Great!” Angelina walked from the TV area to the bar and walked over to the microwave. “I’m gonna make some popcorn. Anyone else hungry?”

Croissant grinned. “I’m a bit peckish myself.”

“You’re doing it on purpose now,” the Sankta observed as she sat back down, immediately accepting Bison’s sudden display of machismo in a protective arm around her shoulder and a lean forward.

“He’s so serious, it’s hard not to.” She leaned back, pleased with herself. “I gotta wonder what the hell that was outside...”

Mostima shrugged. “If it’s anything like the movie, we know we can handle them.”

“Don’t say that so casually,” the Forte next to her shivered.

“You need to relax.” She kissed his cheek. “Nothing like that is going to happen to you, or any of us, tonight.”

He sighed before immediately looking at her, concerned again. “Is there a reason you didn’t say ‘never?’”

“You never know what tomorrow will bring,” she replied ominously.

“...Hey, guys?” Angie, while waiting for the microwave, had wandered over to the office door and was looking out the little eye-height window in it. “I can tell you right now it was a feral Infected, sort of. Probably don’t want to leave right now, though. Lappland and Texas are at it again.”

Bison finally relaxed. “Great.”

“You were really worried, weren’t ya?” Croissant chuckled as the microwave went off.

“He doesn’t handle horror movies very well,” Mostima admitted for him. “Fight response triggers every time. More consistent than the hands on a stopped clock.”

Angelina returned with a tub of popcorn for two, sat back in her girlfriend’s lap, and sighed contently. “Alright, now we should be good! Can someone get the lights?”

“Sure.” Bison got up to do just that...but they went out on their own.

“Did the power go out?” The other Forte glanced around. “No, can’t be. The TV’s still on.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t on a black screen or the DVD menu, but a different movie entirely from the one Angelina had put in. A tree-lined clearing, with a well in the center…“Well that doesn’t look right,” the Vulpo frowned.

“Alright, fuck this, I’m out. I’ll take my chances with Texas’ harem.” Bison stormed out of the office. “Hey, lovebirds, clear a path!”

“And then there were three,” Mostima smiled.

Croissant’s eyes were glued to the TV. “Angie, what the hell did ya do to the TV?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing.” She hit ‘play’ on the remote and flashed her a bright smile. “I just wanted to see if I could get him scared enough to leave.”

“Ya never cease to amaze me.” And with that, movie night carried on as planned.

[icecoldtwin]

Intro 2 (Feat. PAFK)

Link to all Intros: 

1

2 (you are here!)

3

4

It was Friday now, which meant with the rush for dinner, the Peppers could use any hands they could spare.

Which of course meant he was here for the night, trying his best to help. He'd changed into one of their uniforms now, before coming out to see where he could start. A few tables were empty, so he took a tub and started filling it with dirty dishes, leaving the tips on the table for the servers who'd worked them. He offered a smile and a nod to a few old faces, before spotting a new one.

Oh? That white-haired guy was here now?

~

Lucifer had an obviously fake smile plastered onto his face as he stared down at the man sitting at the table before him, his hands clutching his waiter notepad and pencil to tightly - the pencil possibly having already snapped in his hold even.

"Again, I'm sorry man. I don't have everything memorized. If you'd just give me a moment I can go to the kitchen and check."

~

"Just-- don't bother." The guy huffed. "I just want a competent waiter. Not the newbie who doesn't know what they hell they're doing. I've been waiting twice the time I've had to when I've come here before. And I don't want to waste more."

Arthur frowned, and started making his way over at seeing what was happening.

~

"Again, I'm sorry but as you can clearly see, we're a bit busy and low on staff. It's not my fault you came during the dinner rush, but you're going to have to deal with having me."

Lucifer says with a tight smile and a small tilt to his head, trying to not let the growl into his voice.

~

"And I said get someone else." The guy actually growled instead. "This place used to have great service. And I want what I'm used to." He looked ready to stand.

"Oh hey, Lucifer?" Arthur came up with a smile, putting himself between them and tugging on Lucifer's uniform sleeve. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I think they need your help in the back."

~

"And I said, there isn't anyone else."

Lucifer snarls right back without missing a beat, his eyes narrowing at the man and lifting his head to stare down his nose at him - as if daring the man to stand.

Lucifer growls lightly at Arthur's voice before actually focusing on him and glares for a moment, his eyes seeming to flash before letting out a soft scoff and nods.

"Cool. Better then dealing with this prick."

~

The guy stood behind him, but Arthur stayed in the way. "Yeah-- maybe go tend that. I'll take over your tables." He still smiled, turning back to the guy. "Had he taken your drink yet, sir?"

The guy settled a little as seeing Lucifer leaving. "Yeah. I was waiting on food. I wanted to hear the specials."

"Then let me get you that." Arthur hummed as if happy to be dealing with him, checking Lucifer was leaving with a quick glance.

~

Lucifer glares and almost seemed to be baring his teeth at the man when he saw him stand but he does actually walk away, scowling and grumbling to himself as he heads to the back. He only just stopped himself from opening the door to the back too hard and breaking it - the Pepper's treated him well and he didn't want to damage their place.

~

Arthur took the order of the guy and the other tables and put them all in. But he could practically feel the anger radiating from the back room still. Once everyone was waiting, he went in the back. "Hey... you okay, b-- Lucifer? I know that guy is kinda a dick since he comes in here sometimes. But he really got under your skin."

~

It was much colder in the back then it should of been - Lucifer glaring at a wall as he tried to control himself, though his glare quickly snapped to Arthur when he spoke.

".....He's a shitty prick who needs to be taken down a few fucking pegs."

~

Arthur snorted. "I mean. Probably. But he is a kinda-regular. And him and others eating here means this place stays open. So sometimes doing the thing means putting up with a little bullshit. But are you okay?"

~

"You mean let him talk like we aren't human beings? Like he's soooo fucking far above us?? Fuck that." Lucifer snaps, snarling at Arthur before taking a deep breath and turning away, closing his eyes.

"Fuck people. People suck. This is why I don't deal with people...but yeah. I'm fine. Fucking fantastic."

~

"Oh yeah I definitely believe that."

Arthur's voice dripped with sarcasm, but then he sighed. "I mean it's not ideal. And the Peppers if they knew would probably have him out too. But... they need the money." He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'll take the tables. Okay?"

~

Lucifer eyes him for a few seconds before scoffing softly. Why was this guy so....soft? And why did he care about this random family?? "Don't you work at the garage? What, your uncle don't pay you good enough that you need a second job?"

~

"...Sure. Let's go with that." Arthur hummed. "I work here on the big nights. So you can just do your thing back here, okay? If people suck, now you can just deal with boxes."

~

Lucifer eyes him again silently. “...Wasn't what I was asked to do today. Even with you replacing me, we're still short-staffed."

~

"Then let me deal with the assholes and you can get the regulars. It'll be easier for both of us." Arthur countered with a shrug. "I'm used to jerk customers, so I can handle them okay enough."

~

"Sure. I'll let you be the one walked all over so I don't punch someone. Sounds good."

~

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Whatever keeps the restaurant open. Take a few minutes with some of the boxes that do need moving until you're feeling a bit better, okay?" And he headed back out to the main area.

~

Lucifer grumbles softly and huffs before turning around and grabbing a few of the boxes and things that needed to be moved. Maybe he could talk to Mr. or Mrs. Pepper after this and ask not to work Fridays, if this is what it was gonna be like....

He froze. Not work Fridays? That....was he going to stay long enough he would even be here another Friday?

~

Arthur managed pretty well. A few of the tables were frustrating, but he knew how to ignore comments and focus on the job. He managed to get most of the tables served quickly, and was grateful on seeing when Lucifer returned to the main room.

After thirty minutes or so, he was back to the table with that guy. He was laying down the bill when the guy spoke. "Can't believe they replaced Lewis with that. He can barely hold a tray right."

Arthur froze, bill still in his hand. "Replaced…?" It was a question, but the tone was deadly soft.

~

Lucifer had tried to ignore the table that basically got him kicked to the back room, but he couldn't help shooting glares that direction occasionally. He still felt the guy needed to be taken down a few pegs. Badly.

But it was thanks to his occasional glares that he noticed the interaction and narrows his eyes as he watches, moving a bit closer to hear. Maybe the Peppers needed the money but well...he was sure he'd be forgiven if this guy happened to piss off Arthur too, since he worked here longer.

~

The guy didn't seem to notice the warning in his tone. "Yeah. Like they got rid of that one guy. Shoulda kept him on. He was way better at--."

"They didn't get rid of him. He disappeared." Arthur spoke, tone growing sharper but clear he was still desperate to keep it level.

"Same thing. I mean he did with his girlfriend right? They probably ran off together and left this shitty place beh--."

The guy cut off as Arthur's hand had clapped against his shoulder. "I think it's time you leave."

~

Lucifer watches before grinning widely when he hears that it's time for the guy to leave, immediately coming up behind them. As back up or as a threat to listen, it wasn't clear.

~

The guy frowned. "I'm not done with my meal. And I think I want a dessert."

Arthur's gaze darkened. "If you can't respect the owners, then you won't eat here."

The guy stood, glaring at Arthur and then Lucifer over his shoulder. "You can't just throw me out. I'm a paying customer."

"Well. Now you're not." Arthur drew out his wallet and threw a few bills on to the table. He grabbed his things and pushed them into his arm, before herding him towards the door.

~

"Don't worry, sir, we'll make sure to cover your bill this time. After all, it's not like you can come back and pay it once you're trespassing." Lucifer says it with a sneer, grinning widely as he puts a hand on his shoulder to help herd him toward the door, his eyes seeming to flash slightly as the air gets slightly colder around them.

~

Arthur shot Lucifer a look, noting how much he was enjoying this, but too annoyed by the guy to complain. He sighed and together they got the guy out of the restaurant. The guy let them, though he definitely didn't seem like he wanted to, before glaring and storming back to his car.

 Arthur ran fingers through his hair where the bandages weren't. "...Thanks. For having my back. Even if you maybe enjoyed that a little too much."

~

Lucifer watches him go with his arms crossed before laughing harshly at Arthur's words.

"He's a fucking dick and is lucky I didn't punch him as soon as I heard you say he needed to leave. So yes, I did quite enjoy that after what he said to me."

~

Arthur frowned. "I... I kind of get it. Not all the way. But yeah. But definitely try not to punch anyone's light out, please." He rubbed at the back of his head again before leading them both back in and collected the unfinished food and dishes from the guy's table.

~

"Considering I haven't yet, I'll probably get through the day without doing so. As long as no one pushes it." Lucifer says as he helps gather the stuff to take back to the kitchen.

"I still say he deserves it."

~

"....He did a little bit." Arthur conceded that much. "He was a dick. They still need the money but...that was too far." He nodded in thanks and held the door open with his back for Lucifer.

~

"Much more than a little bit. Bastard acted like his shit didn't smell and he shouldn't have to lift a finger." Lucifer grumbles as he walks in, huffing as he dumps the dishes in the sink - making sure he at least didn't break anything but not much more care than that.

~

"I don't care if he's that kind of prick." Arthur shrugged. "Well-- I do. But I can handle it. But the Peppers have been through enough. They don't need someone here who talks shit about them or their family." Arthur shoots Lucifer a look before putting gloves on to keep his prosthetic safe, and sticking his hands in the sink to start washing dishes.

~

Lucifer rolls his eyes at the look and hesitates for just a moment before crossing his arms and leaning against the counter with his hip. "...You said 'he' disappeared. The guy said 'he' ran off with his girlfriend. So...who's this 'he'? And I guess his girlfriend too."

~

Arthur's shoulders tensed slightly, and he swallowed. "Uh.... well you're not from here. But his name is Lewis. Lewis Pepper. He's... their kid. The owners. Mr. and Mrs. Pepper. Their adopted son." His shoulders went from tensed to hunched. "Him and his girlfriend and her dog... they disappeared. And everyone likes to make up shit and start rumors like that about it."

~

Lucifer immediately tensed, possibly from the sudden hard drop in temperature around them, when Arthur said his name. "......and...I'm guessing he looks like me?" But Lucifer didn't understand how that was possible. Lewis couldn't be their son....

~

Arthur shivered before nodding, scrubbing at a few plates in the water. "Yeah. He does... There's um... there's a few pictures on the walls in the restaurant of him. But yeah... purple hair, though."

~

Lucifer stares at him, not actually seeing him as he bows his head slightly to shadows his eyes and the air seems to get colder - even the water losing its heat much faster than it should. "But that's..." Impossible. It had to be. Lewis was dead and had been for years. "Is this some sorta sick joke?"

~

Arthur shivered more, frowning and turning on the warm water. Was there ice in one of the cups? But then Lucifer was talking and his hands stilled as he glanced over. "What do you mean?"

~

"Fuck you." He says in response instead of answering, snagging the front of Arthur's shirt to lift him and slam him against the wall - just in time to actually save his hands from becoming frozen in the water. "Where'd you learn that name? Did you go through my stuff in my bike?"

~

Arthur yelped as the water started to freeze, cold shooting up his prosthetic, but before he could react he was grabbed by the guy by his shirt, and held up against the wall. Looking down at Le--Lucifer, feet dangling. Arthur's breath picked up, his throat going dry. "Wh-what-- uh-- what--- no! --No I didn't-- your bike-- no--." Arthur shook his head, trying to catch his breath.

~

Lucifer glares at Arthur with blazing eyes, snarling angrily at him - it sounding distantly unhuman. "Don't fucking lie to me, Arthur Kingsmen. How do you know that name?"

~

Arthur felt his vision pin-holing. He was going to fall he was going to fall Lewis was going to drop him-- He shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the thoughts. There was a wall behind him, there was a wall he was safe he was fine. "I-I--- I'm not lying! His name is Lewis and-- and I'm-- I didn't go through your bag!"

~

Lucifer snarls and presses him harder against the wall before suddenly letting go and stepping back. The man just had to have the same name. Maybe look somewhat alike but it couldn't be Lewis.

"Where's the picture of him." It wasn't a question. He made it clear he wasn't asking.

~

Arthur froze as he was suddenly was dropped, a sound escaping him as he hit the floor. His feet connected, but he didn't hold himself up, going right to his ass. He didn't answer for a second, grabbing a fist of hair and pulling. It hurt more than usual with the injuries but that helped pull him back faster. "He-- on the wall." Arthur finally gasped out. "Lewis is-- the photos in the-- the main part of the restaurant.”

~

Lucifer stares down his nose at him, glaring coldly before spinning on his heel and marching out to the other room. It would explain why he never saw the pictures before if they were in that room, since he didn't go in there often. Either way, he had to see. Had to see with his own eyes now that he knew.

~

Arthur shivered hard in the room. It was cold and he could feel the radiating anger and fear and it made it harder to check himself. He struggled for breath before finally managing it and pulling himself to his feet by grabbing the edge of the sink. He took some of that icy water and splashed his face with it.

~

Even through the door to the other room, Arthur could hear the general murmuring of the patrons talking - until he couldn't, until everything seemed to still and get colder - and then the murmuring was back, but softer, tentative and almost scared.

It was only when Lucifer shouldered his way back through the door that he could see that quite a few people were staring after Lucifer and seemed to be asking for their check right now. even if they had only just gotten their food. But Lucifer didn't seem to see, didn't seem to react. Didn't even glance at Arthur as he tore off his apron and tossed it aside and threw himself out the back door.

~

Arthur looked between the doors and where Lucifer had torn off, swallowing hard. He could just stay and do his shift and pretend that didn't happen...

... He turned to the back door and followed.

~

Lucifer hadn't gone far - just far enough that he was near a tree and away from the dumpster that was in the back - but he didn't seem like he even had the energy to go any further.

He had slumped at the foot of the tree, only one hand raised in a fist against the tree as if he had punched it before collapsing....or maybe it was just that his fist had gotten stuck, as it seemed incased within ice that was spreading across the tree where it was held.

~

Arthur hesitated, before padding after him. His eyes took in the ice, in the way he was almost laying, and he felt a tweak of pity at his chest. He didn't touch him, didn't get within arm’s reach, but he did draw close enough to see how crystal clear the ice was, and the defeated way his shoulders had sagged and continued to sink. "Lucifer....?"

~

The ice shattered as Lucifer ripped his fist free and he turns a glare toward Arthur - but...it could barely pass as a glare. There was none of the heat and anger behind it like before, as if all of it had been sucked out and just left a confused, disbelieving man. "What? Fuck off, I don't want to deal with you." He growls, pushing himself to his feet.

~

Arthur shook his head, face resolute. "No-- no what the fuck was that?! That-- that-- do you know Lewis? Is that why you--?" He stopped talking a moment. "—Is that why you flipped like that? Did- do you know him?"

~

Lucifer snarls at the name and his glare gets a bit more heated before he rolls his eyes and turns away from him, marching back toward the restaurant - but not to go inside, to go around it and leave. "I don't have to explain anything to you. What, you want some extra reason to give to the police about my 'assaulting' you?"

~

"No-- I..." Arthur stumbled forward, following and snagging the corner of his uniform sleeve to make him stop. "I-- what the fuck was that? You don't get to use freaky powers and grab me and just-- walk away!? I'm not gonna call the police on you it's fine-- but just-- give me something. Do you know Lewis? Do-- do you know where he is?" A hint of something crawled through his voice on the last question.

~

Lucifer immediately ripped himself out of Arthur's grip but didn't try to keep moving away, spinning around to face him with a snarl. "I didn't use any powers, fuck you. Just try and tell someone I did, no one would believe you and you'd end up looking insane so you better keep quiet." He snarls and looms over Arthur threateningly. "That-that man in those pictures isn't Lewis. It isn't. Because Lewis is in the same place he has been for the last 11 years, the bottom of the fucking ocean."

~

Arthur's expression dropped when Lucifer turned on him, but he didn't back away. He was used to scarier people doing much more life-threatening things. Hell he was used to scarier people looming over him.

"You--I know what you did--I know it's not a lie. But I won't tell anyone." He answered, tone softer but still steadfast. "And it is Lewis. I know. I grew up with him. Lewis isn't---" Arthur cut off shortly, something clicking. "L.... Lewis isn't at the bottom of the ocean. Or… my Lewis isn't."

~

Lucifer snarls and snaps his teeth at him, like a wild dog backed into a corner before he starts pacing in front of Arthur and running his hands through his hair. "Fuck you. Fuck you fuckyoufuckyou! It isn't Lewis, Lewis never got to grow up, never got a family like that! So fuck off!! Stop with this bullshit and tell me what the fuck is going on and who-who that really is!"

~

Arthur did flinch at the snap, but he didn't back away. He swallowed hard and watched him, holding his left arm in a vice at the wristband even if it hurt to grip with his other hand like that. "It's fucking Lewis." Arthur hissed back, voice cracking. "It's him! It's who I said! I don't have a reason to lie to you! But-- where did you go? when you first got here? Did you get gas on your bike? Did you go to the station just outside town on the east side? On top of that little overlook? Tell me that."

~

Lucifer shoots him a look - of blazing anger that Arthur was still keeping up this-this obvious charade about LewisnonotLewisNotLewis the man in the pictures, before it dies just a bit at the sudden turn of questions. ".....The fuck that have to do with anything?!"

~

Arthur grit his teeth. "It has everything to do with everything. So just-- fucking tell me right now. Did you stop there?"

~

Lucifer throws his hands up in the air as if he was giving up, rolling his eyes before nodding. "Yes, I stopped to get some fucking gas."

~

Arthur wipes at his face, keeping his hands there for the moment. "Okay. Okay. Then-- I know what happened."

~

"Oh?? Then pray tell, enlighten me, all knowing one!"

~

"Shut the fuck up." Arthur hissed at him, hands swinging down. "Just-- stop for one fucking second. You're.... Look. That gas station has been closed for a decade now. It has been. I can even drive you up there and fucking prove it if you don't believe me. But-- in other places it's not. And that's how people sometimes get here."

~

Lucifer stares at him silently for a few good seconds, long enough Arthur knew he didn't believe him. "Maybe you should tell people you saw 'powers' so you can get the help you apparently need."

~

Arthur scowled at him. "Oh, so fucking ice power shit is believable, but magic or something else fucking isn't?"

~

"Not at all, there was no ice power and you need help because 'that's how people get here sometimes'?? Obviously a gas station is how people fucking get places."

~

"There was ice powers. Your hand was frozen to a tree. You know it so—just stop. And I mean-- not natural ways of getting places! It's-- you wouldn't even fucking believe me but that place has a ley line on it. It's a liminal space with a fucking kick and sometimes when you go into that place you-- you come out in a place that isn't yours. It's magic bullshit. Didn't you feel something when you were there? Did the lights flicker? Did you feel your hair stand on end? Did you go in and when you left it felt like it was a different time of day?"

~

Lucifer scowls at him, almost about to reach out and-!

What, he wasn't sure, because Arthur's words started clicking. He actually thought about that night and how it had seemed to become day a lot sooner. How he had been following that special pull for so long that he didn't realize when the pull had just become....there. ".....Take me there."

~

Arthur looked-- not quite relieved. It was too strong a word for how tired and run down and on edge he felt. But it was progress. So he jerked his head at the restaurant. "Finish your shift with me. We can't leave the Peppers on a Friday night. And you need to keep your job. After we close up, I'll take you up there myself in my van. Okay?"

~

Lucifer scowls, not angry for once but more frustrated as he stares at the restaurant. He stared and shifted, almost seeming like he was going to fight Arthur on this before finally speaking. "....I'm staying in the back."

~

"That's fine." Arthur turned on his heel to walk towards the back again. "You'd probably scare the customers anyways."

~

Lucifer huffs and grumbles as he follows after Arthur. It was unlikely, but then again, very likely that his muttered words were something along the lines of "They should be scared, they'll leave me alone then."

~

If he heard, Arthur didn't say. When they got inside, Arthur took a moment to collect himself, get his hands to stop shaking, and went back to work.

[quarantine-au]

Hurt and Trapped Chapt 6

Hiya https://archiveofourown.org/works/23729677/chapters/57408421  :p

——

It was dark and late, and if it hadn’t been for the flashlight in the emergency supplies, Ford probably couldn’t have gotten home the same night. Frankly, Ford was happy enough to get out of there fast… 

  Seeing two monsters both taking his nephew’s image was something he’d rather see as little as possible.

  Going back was something he’d obviously have to do, if just for the demon, of course. Its power was something he’d have to study, if he had it in him, that is. Being involved with Weirdmageddon could wildly vary its power, ranging from a simple three eyed bird to rival Bill himself. With that kind of uncertainty, runes and wards had been a must. Keeping the monster in the cryotubes had been tempting, at first, but putting in actual thought into the idea had proven it to just be a lazy and destructive idea. What if the demon had the power to escape? The havoc it could wreck could be catastrophic! So, as tempting as the cryotubes had been, as tempting as it would’ve been to just leave the whole situation alone and be done with it, keeping it around with wards seemed to be the best option.  

  Ford would be eternally grateful towards the Oracle for showing him the wards and runes, maybe one day he’d be able to repay her.

  Shaking his head, Ford navigated his way through the forest, looking for the Shack. Tiredly walking through the dense and dark forest with only a flashlight illuminating its light across the forest, Ford found the Shack, his old cabin. It’ll be nice to have the place back when the summer is done. He’d be able to finally relax, he could even maybe try to find Fiddleford again. That’d be pleasant.

  Walking to the aged cabin, Ford slowly opened the door to avoid creaking, judging from the sky, his niece is very likely to be asleep already. Hopefully Stanley would just leave him alone or be asleep already so he could just go into the basement and try to find a way to move the demon in there. Come to think of it, things would be easier that way, no Shifty, no going back and forth, and an easier way to keep his eye on the thing. Yes! He’d just set up the lab to be a holding chamber! Or maybe that could be the second level, and the basement could be utilized for experimentation! It’d be empty and unused once he got rid of the portal pieces. Maybe he’d get it to show its true form.

  Maybe he could get it to show him where his nephew was.

   What a comforting thought.

  ——

Poindexter shoulda been back by now.

  It was getting dark, and while Stan knew that Ford could more than take care of himself, he couldn’t help but worry, how could he not? 

  He could only wish Dipper was with him, that Ford found him and was bringing him home. That Ford was only taking forever because he was helping Dipper from whatever the hell kinda situation the kids always got in. 

  He really just hoped Sixer came home with the kid in his arms unharmed.

  The whole day was spent lookin for him, Soos and Wendy promised to join in the search tomorrow, wanting to catch up with their families. They deserved the break. 

  Everyone had just lived through Hell, even if his family was still going through it.

  What was he going to tell the kid’s family?

  Christ, what was he going to tell them? He’d either have to lie or tell the truth, each option having their own set of repercussions. Lying would mean having to deal with cover stories and what those would bring, telling the truth could go a number of ways, most being bad. What were the chances Mark and Anna would believe him? Maybe if they showed Ford to them, or the basement? Maybe even the forest-y junk would work. 

  Stan sighed, looking down into the cup of coffee he was drinking, taking comfort in his yellow chair.

  Old, drained eyes stared back.

  He swirled the cup around, distorting his image in the brown liquid.

  He heard the door open and snapped his head towards the small noise. 

  “Ford, ya back already?”

  His twin froze, sighing inwardly. “What is it-”

  “Why ya home so late, Poindexter?” Stan asked rather briskly.

  “Why wouldn’t I be late? Dipper’s been missing.”

  “We agreed to be home by nine, idiot”

  “I know the time we agreed to be home by. I just…I got caught up”

  Stan glanced up to his TV, then back to his brother standing by the doorway. 

  “Your lucky Mabel’s been too distracted to be worried” He hissed.

  Ford could only sigh, “Is that all?”

  He had better things to do than bicker with Stan, dammit!

  “We’re going looking tomorrow too, Mabel will be with whoever she feels comfortable with,” Giving his brother a defeated, yet accusatory look, he continued, “You can go hide in the basement now”

  Ford could only stare incredulously at his former best friend.

  —–

  Racing through the woods, flashlight in hands, was Mabel Pines.

  She wanted to get as far away from the Shack as possible, what could be even better was going somewhere near where the Fearamid had previously been. 

  Where it had all taken place.

  Dwelling on it wouldn’t help. Just find the area and start searching again. Find Dipper where he was probably lying cold on the grassy floor and hug him to oblivion. Soon as he woke up she’d drag him home and everything would be better again. Just like it was meant to be.

  God knows how much she couldn’t wait for that. 

  The Fearmid had been over the forest right? A bit away from the town? She didn’t need the exact location, just the area. She could just search the area. 

  Arriving in what she believed to be the right area, the young girl slowed down, taking time to digest her location. It was odd, being out here so late at night. It was just something she didn’t put under her liberal term of the word “safe”. It really wasn’t if any of Dipper’s nerd junk was to be true. And looking from her window, in her comfy, warm room, she wouldn’t doubt it for a second, despite the forest’s obvious beauty. She couldn’t deny it was nice out though, the ending Summer leading to chiller Fall made it a sight to envy. The silent ambiance disturbed only by the sounds of crickets chirping. It made her both content and uneasy, somehow.

  She started to search through the late night and early morning.

  She barely noticed as the minutes turned to hours.

  Her tired mind unnoticing of the early dawn that those hours delivered to her.

  Why would she?

  The lone dirty PineTree hat sitting on the healthy grass kept distracting her.

 —–

Thanks for reading :D