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strawberrymilkgeorge · 4 years

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Part Seven. Cooties, Discall, and Flirting

warnings: swearing, also I used the word “flirt” so many times it no longer holds meaning so beware word count: 4k

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: putting it up here this time!!!! i liked this chap so i hope you do too!!!!! if you didn’t see the missing dms from part 3 (which are now actually in part 3), bugsy agreed to a minecraft date with dream in exchange for karl touring her on his smp!! anyway, enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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The frosty air bit at Y/n's skin as she hurriedly shut the car door behind her, starting up her car in an attempt to find warmth as quickly as possible. "Why do I live here?" she asked through chattered teeth, causing Naomi to laugh.

"It's not that cold!"

"I don't know how you're okay with this."

"Do you want me to drive? You're so stiff you'll crash,” Naomi offered as she looked at Y/n.

"I'm fine, I just need to warm up for a second," Y/n assured as she rubbed her hands together in front of the heater.

Naomi giggled and took her hands, rubbing them to help heat them up.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Now hurry up, I have a work meeting in like 30 minutes."

"What?" she gasped, quickly putting her gloves back on. "Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have spent so much time looking at Christmas decorations!"

"I'm just kidding. But Karl will be mad if he has to wait for his food any longer."

"You're seriously the worst." She smacked Naomi's arm and started driving, much less panicked than a few moments prior.

"You love me."

"Whatever. How's your internship going by the way?"

Naomi sighed. "Good. It's really hard to be motivated to go since it's unpaid but it's the last thing I need to graduate so I have to do it."

"But you enjoy it, right? I mean it's what you want to do."

"Yeah, no, I love it. I just wish I was getting paid so I didn't have to work at the grocery store too. I wish I could get paid to play video games like you."

Y/n deflated slightly. She hated when people put it like that, it made her sound like it wasn't a real job but it was challenging in its own way. "I'll teach you how to pvp and you'll be on your way to the top."

"Maybe then I could actually meet George myself instead of waiting around for you to do it."

"Wait!" Y/n gasped. "Did I not... did I not tell you about the other night?"

"Uh... I guess not? What happened?"

Y/n squealed. "Dude! Make a Discord account right now. Get your phone out and make one."

"Why? What is that?"

"It's the thing we all use to voice call during streams and in private and stuff. Come on!" Y/n used her right hand to urge Naomi to grab her phone. "George said you can't have his number but you can have his Discord."

"Wait, really??" Naomi gasped. "Wait, what does that mean!? I can talk to him on it!?"

Y/n laughed. "Yes, yes! You can text or voice call or even video call but I don't suggest that right away. Don't scare him away."

"He really said he'd add me back? Wait, when did you talk to him about me?"

"On Dream's stream. After the movie, I went and talked to them for a few hours."

"Is that why I heard you giggling at four in the morning?"

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up. "Okay, well, that was just with Dream. George and Sapnap left the call around one and two."

"Date."

"Sounds to me like someone doesn't want GeorgeNotFound's Discord..."

Y/n saw Naomi cower shyly. "Sorry. Please give it to me."

"I don't know it off the top of my head, silly. So be nice for the rest of the car ride and I'll get it when we get home."

"Is Karl meeting us at our apartment or his?"

"Ours. Can you tell him we're almost there?"

"I don't know if I have the strength to... talk to someone who's such good friends with... my love..." Naomi started with a dramatic sigh, "it just reminds me of the pain I go through daily... without him..."

"If that were true, you couldn't talk to me. I'm also good friends with Mr. Not Found."

Naomi threw her head to glare at Y/n, who just laughed. "Come on, text Karl. Please. His food will get cold."

Y/n watched as Naomi typed away on her phone. Soon, the two pulled up to their apartment complex and headed upstairs. Y/n turned the corner and walked down the hall to see Karl standing at their front door.

"KARL JACOBS! WE HAVE FOOD!"

He looked up quickly from his phone and beamed at them. "My heroes!"

"What are you doing outside, silly?" Y/n asked. "Don't you have a key?"

"Naomi made me give it back after I pulled that prank on you guys last month," he explained as Y/n unlocked the door.

"Well deserved. I still find glitter everywhere."

Y/n set the food on the counter and the other two crowded around. "Thank you, mother, for lunch," Karl joked and kissed her cheek loudly, his love language of physical touch jumping out of him. Y/n grimaced playfully as she wiped her cheek on her shoulder.

"GROSS!!! COOTIES!"

Karl pouted. "I thought we were best fwends, Y/n . Best fwends don't have cooties."

"You do. You're a boy."

Y/n's phone lit up as Karl started going on a joking rant about how Y/n always is so mean to his affections and he can't help wanting to show his friends he loves them and how she's so mean and, "Y/n you're not even listening to my complaints how are we supposed to be best friends when you're too busy talking to your boyfriend all the time and—"

"Boyfriend?" Y/n looked up quickly, worried he had seen the text from Peter that she just read. He was still trying to convince her to talk to him even after she bluntly told him no and why.

Karl walked over to the couch with his food and sat next to Naomi. "I was just joking... why, is there someone?" he giggled. "Dreeeaam maybe?"

Y/n shook her head, and her lack of defensiveness made Naomi and Karl look at each other. Normally she turned bright red and stumbled over her words when they joked about anyone being her boyfriend, but she was stone cold silent as her phone continued to illuminate her face.

"Y/n... What's up?" Naomi asked. "Is it Peter again?"

"Peter?" Karl's eyebrows raised and his food almost fell out of his mouth. "He's been texting you?"

Y/n sighed, locking her phone and sliding it in her pocket before finally joining her friends on the couch. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not."

"He wants to talk," Y/n mumbled.

"What?" Karl asked genuinely.

"I said he wants to talk."

Karl just stared for a few moments before looking at Naomi, who nodded, then back at Y/n. "You're not going to, right? Right? You've got to be kidding me, Y/n, he's a selfish dick and he's just going to keep hurting you. Why do you keep giving him the benefit of the doubt when he's proven time and time again that he's nothing but a fuc—"

"Karl!" Y/n interrupted. "I'm obviously not going to talk to him."

Karl's face flushed, probably embarrassed that he had assumed the worst and ranted. He sighed, exasperated. "Why don't you just block him already?"

Y/n shrugged. "He's harmless now that I don't let his words get to me."

"I'm just glad you finally decided not to meet up with him," Naomi said.

Y/n shrugged like it was an obvious choice, but deep down she couldn't help but think about the exact reason she had come to that decision. Besides all the pain he had caused her, how could she consider getting back together with her ex when she finds herself giddy about talking to someone else over Discord? Simple: she couldn't. The possibility of liking Dream briefly crossed her mind, and she knew that in the few weeks she had talked to him, the faceless man she had never met in real life made her feel better about herself than her ex-boyfriend ever did in the two years they dated. She wasn't sure quite what that meant, but she knew it was something.

"Can I have George's Dis...call or whatever it's called now? Please?"

Y/n laughed at the failed attempt at remembering the name of the application and pulled out her phone, directing Naomi on where to add friends and listing off his name and hashtag. Naomi then gave Y/n her name so she could tell George who to add back. "There, now leave me alone about George for the rest of your life."

Naomi giggled giddily before going to her room, eyes glued to her phone for the moment he would add her back.

"I'm sorry for being so bossy when it comes to Peter," Karl muttered.

Y/n shrugged and cuddled into the couch, hugging a pillow to her stomach. "I get that he was awful, but you have to trust me to know what to do."

"I do! I promise I trust you but..." Karl paused to groan, "but he just makes my blood boil. I've never hated anyone in my life but I would love to slice his head off if I ever got the chance."

"Thank you for being protective, but I promise I can handle myself."

Karl looked at her sadly. "Why did you stay with him for so long? Even after he cheated on you and said all those horrible things?"

She shrugged shamefully. "I had no one else."

"You had me and Naomi! Y/n, you've never been alone."

"That's not what I mean, Karl. I love you guys so much but it's not the same as dating someone, you know?"

"I guess..." he sighed. "But wouldn't you rather be alone than with someone who's so possessive you're afraid to tell him about your real job?"

Y/n dropped her shoulders. He had a point. She really shouldn't have stayed with Peter as long as she did. He was scary. "Yeah."

A scream from the other room snapped them out of their serious conversation. "HE ADDED ME BACK!"

Y/n laughed and Karl shook his head. "Poor George. He's about to regret so much," she predicted.

"Noooo... I'm sure he and Naomi will get along great," Karl argued. "They'll be friends at least."

"Maybe. Hey, any updates about cameragirl?"

Karl blushed immediately and Y/n smiled.

"Is that a yes??"

"I... may have... finally spoken to her. Y/n, she's so cute. Like, she's so nice and I want to protect her from everything."

"What did you guys talk about?!" Y/n gasped, sitting up quickly.

"You're going to be so disappointed in me..."

"Did you talk about Sonic the Hedgehog again? Karl, I swear—"

"No! But I only said like two words."

"What two words?"

"Um, I said hi, and then she asked how I was and I said good."

"KARL!"

"I know!" he said as he buried his face in his hoodie sleeves. "I'm the worst! I don't know how to talk to her! She's so cute!!!"

Y/n laughed endearingly and pulled his hands away. "My offer still stands, I'll teach you how to flirt if you want."

"No, I still don't believe that you can actually flirt."

"I totally can, but fine. Ask Naomi to help you if you don't trust me. She'd teach you if you want." Y/n looked down at her phone as it lit up with notifications from Twitter.

As if he knew by the smile on her face who it was, Karl challenged, "Flirt with Dream to prove you can."

"I have nothing to prove to you," Y/n mumbled, standing up. "But he wants to call me so I'm going to my room. You're welcome to stay here or go home since Naomi's still in her room too."

"Mkay," Karl said. "I'll just stay here for now. Thanks again for the food."

"No problem, dude." Y/n disappeared to her room and opened Discord on her computer, waiting for Dream to call her. She answered when he finally did.

"Hi, Dream," she smiled into her headset.

"Hi, Bug. What are you up to?"

"Nothing. I was just explaining to Karl how good I am at flirting because he doesn't believe that I'm good."

"I don't either."

"What?" she laughed. "Why does no one think I can? Have you seen all the thirsty people flirting with me on Twitter? You included."

"Yeah, but you hardly flirt back. You just insult us."

"I can flirt when I want to."

"Prove it."

"...I don't want to."

"Why? Because you can only flirt with your boyfriend?"

"Are you trying to get me to admit I have a secret lover?"

"Yes."

"Well too bad, I don't."

"Interesting... so you," he paused, careful with his words, "so you decided... not to listen to whats-his-face?"

"Mhm," she hummed, not trusting her voice to stay steady. Why was she nervous? She crossed her fingers hoping that he wouldn't ask how or why she came to that conclusion. She didn't have a lie ready to hide the fact that it might have something to do with Dream.

"Then there's no reason you can't flirt with me."

Y/n sighed dramatically but still smiled. "Why did you call me? Just to make fun of my flirting abilities?"

"No, I called because I'm bored."

"Wow, so I'm just a backup when GeorgeNotFound and Sapnap are busy?"

"Actually, I called you before I tried either of them."

"Interesting..." she mocked him and he scoffed.

"Stop changing the subject and flirt with me!!! Give me your best pickup line!! Why won't you?"

"How about because I reserve flirting for people who deserve it?"

"Oh, it's that good, huh? You have to be on a VIP list to be flirted with by you?"

"Yeah," she laughed, completely joking. "It's life-changing."

"How do I get on that list?"

"Why do you want me to flirt with you so bad, you weirdo?"

"Because you said it's life-changing! And because I just don't believe that you're good at flirting."

"Why? What about me screams that I'm an awkward mess?"

"Everything!" he laughed. "Every time I've witnessed anyone flirt with you you just get all embarrassed and change the subject. Or on Twitter when we flirt with you, you almost always just reject us outright. People like that aren't smooth."

"Fine. I'll flirt with you, Dream. Not now but when you least expect it and it'll leave you so speechless that you'll never question me again."

"Good. I'm excited."

She snorted lightly and shook her head. "You're ridiculous."

"Oh, hey, you know how I said Sapnap, George, and I wanted to do a big hangout thing with everyone?"

"Yes! Is it happening??"

"Yeah! We still don't know exactly when but George mentioned he thinks New Year's Eve and New Year's Day are stupid holidays so we want to get everyone together in person for that to prove it's a great holiday."

"I mean... I'm kinda with George on this one," Y/n agreed.

"What?! How? It's the start of a New Year! It's an excuse to kiss someone and you start the year with all your friends and loved ones and-"

"It's literally just another day. The only thing that changes is people accidentally put the wrong year when they write dates down for the first month."

Dream laughed. "That's stupid. No. It's a good holiday."

"Whatever. You'll just have to prove to me that it's good."

"I will."

"And the thing you said about having an excuse to kiss someone is stupid. If you wanna kiss someone, just kiss them."

"That easy, huh?"

"Yes."

Dream hummed thoughtfully, a mischievously playful tone to it that made Y/n change the subject slightly to spare her heart from beating too hard.

"So he's coming for New Years'?"

"Okay, yeah, so he doesn't know exactly what date but we're trying to get as many of our friends as we can to come so we have to plan around everyone. Also obviously you and Karl and Naomi are invited."

"Oh, Naomi too? Good, because I think they're talking to each other right now."

"They are," Dream laughed. "George texted me when she added him and he panicked because he doesn't know how to talk to girls."

"What?!" Y/n gasped in offense. "That's his and my thing! Why didn't he text me panicking??"

"He said he was going to text you but since it's your friend he felt awkward."

She grunted. "Fine. I guess that makes sense. Except, I know her better than anyone so I'd be waaay more helpful than you."

"You saying I don't know how to talk to girls?"

"I mean, you've used so many pickup lines on me on Twitter and I'm still not wowed, so yeah, I'd say you aren't as smooth as you'd like to think."

"Bug! What?! I'm totally good at talking to girls," Dream tried to defend, pulling excuses out of his ass. "I just haven't used my best tactics because you're easier to scare away than most. As I said, you can't dish it or take it so I have to use special moves."

"They still haven't worked." The quick beating of her heart and shaking of her hands informed her that that was a lie. Every time he replied to her tweets, the painful grin on her face proved it was a big, fat lie. Maybe she was a little impressed at his "special moves" but she wasn't going to ever admit that to him.

"Whatever, you liar. Anyway, we were thinking of renting a cabin on a lake or something like that for everyone to stay in."

"Oh! Yes, that sounds so fun! I love lake houses so much."

"Good. I'm gonna talk to George and the other brits and see if that's doable. It's gonna happen. I promise. I'm tired of not seeing my friends."

"Wait, how many people are you guys thinking? I'm still nervous about showing people my face..."

"It's a rough list but basically Sapnap, George, Quackity, Karl, Wilbur, Niki, um, Tubbo, Tommy, who else.... I think that's it right now. We'll make sure you know them and are comfortable with them so you don't feel pressured to show strangers who you are."

She nodded to herself. "Okay. I could also just not come if I'm not comfortable with someone—"

"What?!" he asked loudly, genuinely surprised. "Wha— no. We just wouldn't invite them."

"But—"

"I'd way rather have you there than anyone else. Hell, I'd kick George or Sapnap out if you didn't want to show them your face."

"Wait, really?"

"No pressure but I really want you to come and I want to make sure your comfortable."

"What if I don't want to show you my face?"

There was a long pause and Y/n knew he was trying to control his voice so she didn't know he was disappointed or slightly offended. "I mean... I don't know. I guess I... wouldn't go."

Her heart cracked at the sadness in his voice.

"I really don't want you to be pressured into—"

"Dream," she said. "It's okay. I'm probably most comfortable with meeting you over anyone else."

"Really?"

She didn't trust her voice not to sound too sappy and giddy. She didn't trust it a lot when she was around Dream. "Mhm."

"I'm glad," he said happily but softly. "It will be fun. Also, give me your phone number."

"So forward of you, Dream."

"Shut up, I wanna make a group chat."

Y/n laughed and told him her number. "I'm really excited now, Dream! I haven't hung out with people in so long and it sounds like a fun little vacation."

Dream laughed at her excitement. "I just want to hug the shit out of George."

It was Y/n's turn to laugh loudly. "Have you met him in real life yet?"

"No."

"I doubt he'll even let you touch him. He doesn't seem touchy."

"I don't think he is but I don't care. I am very touchy so he won't have a choice but to hug me."

"Ugh, another touchy person. Gross."

"Are you not?"

"Not really. Karl is the touchiest person I have ever met so he's kinda rubbed off on me a little over the years I think, but in general no."

"Oh, yeah, he's already threatened to kiss all of us as soon as we meet," Dream said with a laugh.

"Best to just let it happen. He pouted earlier because I wiped my cheek after he kissed it."

"That doesn't sound like something someone who can flirt would do."

"Because I'm not flirting with Karl!" Y/n groaned but a laugh was behind her words. "What is with you guys?"

"You just can't be on Karl and my level of flirting if we don't see it! Can't be in the gang if you don't show us your skill."

"Just you wait, Dream. You'll see."

"Wait, what about our Minecraft date?"

"What about it?"

"When we do that, you have to flirt with me!"

"No, I don't," she protested with a loud laugh.

"Um, I'm pretty sure it's very rude to not sweet-talk your date. You have to flirt with me then."

Y/n giggled. "Oh yeah? And what if I don't?" She hadn't meant for her voice to come out laced with something suggestive, but if Dream noticed, he thankfully didn't show it.

"Well, we'll just have to keep going on dates until you do."

"Pretty sure forcing someone on dates is illegal, buddy."

Dream laughed. "You agreed to it!!"

"I agreed to the first one," she corrected. "I agreed to one date in exchange for you letting Karl tour me around your server. One."

"Don't worry." Unlike Y/n's, Dream's voice was purposefully laced with something suggestive as he told her, "after our date, it won't take much for you to agree to more."

"Oh whatever," she scoffed, trying to cool her face down with her icy hands. Even they were no match for the heat on her cheeks. "When are we doing this stupid thing anyway?"

"Ah, the smooth talking has begun, I see."

"Dreeeamm..." she whined, growing increasingly tired of the butterflies in her stomach. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous around him? It's not sudden, she told herself.

Dream's cute laugh interrupted her thoughts. "What about tomorrow?"

"I'm streaming Among Us tomorrow."

He groaned. "You never make time for me."

"I cannot stand you," she joked, laughs slipping through her annoyed voice and blowing her cover. "You're the one who said you were too busy to join my lobby. So really you don't make time for me."

"No, no, no," he protested. "I'd make time for one-on-one time with you, just not a game where I hardly get to talk to you."

"Oh my gosh." She rolled her eyes. "How did you turn this around to sound cute again."

"Aw, Bug, you think I'm cute?"

"You ruined it by asking. What are you doing tomorrow anyway?"

"I have to finish a plug-in by tomorrow night so George and I can test it. There's still a lot to fix so it'll probably will take all day."

"Oooh," she cooed. "What's it do?"

"It changes the world every time we take damage," he explained with a hint of pride in his voice.

"What the! That sounds awesome!"

"Thanks," he said shyly, proudness gone now that he was being complimented. "Anyway, George is really busy next week so we have to test it tomorrow night so we can record the next day."

"You probably should finish it then."

"Or you could cancel your stream and we could go on a date."

"Dream!" She laughed. "No! How about next week. Between you editing the video you record, we go on a Minecraft date. How's Thursday?"

"I guess I could fit you into my schedule..."

"I hate you."

His cheeky grin could be heard through his stupid words. "Keep telling yourself that."

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A/N: *sniff* *sniff* yall smell a hater in those twitter screenshots?? hmmm.....

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alderaani · 3 years

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still i find you there

summary: after Rako Hardeen, there are several things that need fixing.

written for @codywanweek and the day 1 prompt fix-it. I fully intended to have more days completed for this, but given that it’s *checks notes* day 5, it’s probably not going to happen. this is very angsty and perhaps a bit melodramatic, but the heart wants what it wants. also catch me forgetting obi-wan was wearing his vambraces when he ‘died’ and having to stretch to make it work for me. warnings for grief, percieved death and all that good stuff.

He’s alive.

It seems impossible. It feels entirely predictable. And yet...Cody can’t make himself believe it. He saw Obi-Wan die, the grainy security-holo footage of slick Coruscant rooftops showing little more than a bolt of red and a lone figure reeling, falling. No sound, no clear faces, and yet...He knew that red hair. He knew that posture, how it could startle like that if timed very, very well.

It had been the only thing that made it real.

It had been a terrible idea to look at the footage, just like Rex (and Fox, and Wolffe, and Boil) had told him, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d needed something to help him break out of the stupor, the long silences, the staring at the door like Obi-Wan was going to walk right through it. The war didn’t stop just because someone had died, and the GAR hadn’t cared about the cataclysmic shockwave it had sent through Cody’s life.

They’d sent the 212th packing to Mimban within a day of the assassination, and Cody had nearly gotten his head blown off after leaving his left flank wide open, expecting the snap-hiss of a lightsaber to cover him. Instead Wooley had been his salvation, yanking him back at the last second and roaring that he needed to get it together. It had been like walking in a dream.

Watching the holo had worked. It had convinced some deep, desperate part of himself that Obi-Wan really wasn’t coming back. That somehow he was going to have to carry on alone, or worse, with another Jedi, whose differences would grate at him like a knife paring into bone.

And in the end, it had all been a lie.

Cody takes a deep breath and leans his forehead against one of the blaster racks in the armoury, the durasteel sharp and cool on his skin. His knees shake and he grips the shelf edges until his fingers hurt, just standing there, just breathing.

His heart feels big and swollen in his chest, gluttoned with relief and anger, paired with a sharp, aching grief that now, more than ever, has nowhere to go. There’s no reason to harbour it; he should know better.

He just can’t help it.

He’d stood through the shuttle landing, through the torturous debrief, through strange, hairless Obi-Wan meeting his eyes and explaining earnestly that ‘if it hadn’t been classified of course he’d have said something…’ without so much as a twitch, but a great yawning chasm in his belly had opened and only kept getting wider the longer they kept making small talk about provisions, and reopening Obi-Wan’s quarters and a million other things that had happened since he’d - gone away. In the end he’d excused himself, planning to retrieve the personal effects he’d personally cleared out of Obi-Wan’s quarters because he’d needed to feel close to him, after, and there hadn’t been any other practical reason to go in there.

Except now he’s standing here, the relevant box at his feet, and he just can’t move.

Eventually the trembling in his legs slows, and he lifts his head from the shelf, turning instead to slide down it, using it for balance until he hits the floor. His knee thunks against the crate as he collapses, the scant things inside clinking against each other.

That had been one of the worst things; Obi-Wan always filled a room. His presence was a gentle, quiet, pervasive thing. Cody had held his small collection of two plants, a meditation mat, a few trinkets from planets visited and a lightsaber maintenance kit and felt nothing.

He swipes ruthlessly at his face with one hand, thumbing under his eyes to scrub away the moisture.

He needs to get moving. They’ll be looking for him soon.

Instead, his knee has dislodged the thin fabric covering the crate, and his eyes catch on the vambrace stacked on top, the straps frayed and snapped. Cody had helped paint this one and its pair, had shown Obi-Wan how to get the colours to take properly to the unwieldy plastoid.

He’d been the one to break it, too. Obi-Wan had just come out of the field medstation, bruised to shit but still smiling, and Cody had crowded him against a powered down holostation in the empty command tent and yanked at his clothes, just needing to feel his pulse under his skin, to feel the warmth of him safe and alive. It had been too much for the worn out armour to bear.

Two cycles later Obi-Wan had been on his way to Coruscant again, and there had been no time to fix them. It’s stupid, but Cody had taken one look at them on the little desk, in the space that had once been Obi-Wan’s room, and all he’d been able to think was that he hadn’t been properly protected. Cody had broken his armour. Cody had left him vulnerable.

Obi-Wan’d taken his spare set, of course, but he’s always complained that they chafe, and if there’s one thing Cody knows, it’s that if your armour isn’t right you aren’t fighting at your best.

He reaches for the broken piece now, thumbing the frayed synthleather and the chipped paint, yellow and red and faint scuffed up grey.

He knows now that it wouldn’t have made a difference to what happened, but he still heaves himself up to his feet after a moment and goes to the supply closet, pulls out a new strap, and sits back down again, committing to unpicking the stitching of the old before he can attach it.

He should’ve done this sooner.

He should’ve been more careful.

He should’ve been there.

He should’ve -

He could have -

He’s crying.

He’s crying, and he doesn’t realise it until the salt is heavy on his cheeks, until his neckline is wet, until his vision blurs so hard he can’t see. Cody makes a low, animal sound and curls over the vambrace, his fingers stilling against the threads.

His throat aches, his face is swollen, his body hot. He feels sick, and disoriented, overwhelmed in a way he can’t name.

“Cody?”

He flinches like he’s wounded, turning his face away from the door, like it will hide the evidence of his weakness. He knows he’s failed when Obi-Wan’s breath sucks in, so loud in the quiet.

“Cody?” His voice comes again, much closer this time. “Will you...will you look at me?”

Through the haze, Cody catches something that does make him turn. Obi-Wan sounds...hesitant, so uncharacteristically tentative that it cuts through the rest.

He wipes quickly at his face, smearing the mess, and gets his eyes just clear enough to find Obi-Wan’s face, so foreign and smooth but so dear for all that. His eyes are still the same, glacier-heart blue, and worried, right now, focused on his face.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispers at whatever he finds there, then reaches out, stutters halfway through, and drops his hand. His wrist is bare, and his robe sleeves flop backwards.

“I was trying to fix it,” Cody croaks, shifting to unveil the half-mended vambrace. “Before I brought it back. I broke it, and then you left without it and then you -”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to flinch back this time, while Cody greedily drinks him in, taking in the changes to his face, the way the lack of a beard makes his jaw look sharper, his features look younger. The stubbly fuzz of his hair is odd, true enough, but it’s still him.

“I - I never thought,” Obi-Wan says haltingly, and now Cody frowns, because it’s so unlike him to lose his words. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker away, then back, like he’s steeling himself. Almost like he’s afraid.

“I never imagined you’d feel responsible - Cody - I’m so sorry -”

He reaches out, his fingers loosely catching Cody’s wrist this time. Cody feels it, the warmth of his hand sharp and electric. Tears spring to his eyes all over again; it’s the first time they’ve touched since he walked Obi-Wan to the hangar and he kissed him goodbye behind a LAAT/i. He’s replayed it so many times since, thinking he’d never get another, but the memory does the reality no justice, failing to preserve the way heat floods under his skin.

Obi-Wan moves to take his hand back, and Cody traps it there, anchoring his fingers and dipping his head, just breathing through it.

“If I could have told you,” Obi-Wan continues. “I would have, I swear it, I -”

“I know,” Cody says instantly, because he does, he’d never doubt it. “I know you couldn’t.”

Their fingers curl more securely together, calluses and knuckles finding a home against their pair.

“I didn’t know if you’d be angry,” Obi-Wan says. Cody shakes his head before he even thinks about it.

“It was your duty. I just -,” he squeezes his eyes shut again, voice breaking. The deception had made him angry. He can admit that, but it was never directed between them. The war stops for no-one, after all. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

“I promise, I always intend to stay,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

Cody’s smiling when he kisses him, so full his cheeks ache with it. It tastes of salt and bitter-sweet and just a hint of desperation, their hands clasped with the vambrace cradled between them.

Then Obi-Wan draws him in, tucking his head under his chin. Cody presses his wet skin to the hollow of neck, listens to his heartbeat, and weeps.

#codywanweek2021 #rako hardeen arc #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #alderwrites

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anonymouslyangsty · 3 years

Note

Ultimate clairvoyant!Taka

Wow congrats. You just found the worst possible talent for Kiyotaka Ishimaru. I'm impressed.

Fair warning this is very long. I got excited.

Listen It's the worst talent for him and I adore that. He's all about hard work and effort, working hard instead of relying on 'talent'. And yet he has a supernatural ability that he neither earned nor can really work hard at.

Taka would definitely feel guilt or shame over his ability, because what has he done to earn it? Why should he have some magic ability that gives him an unfair advantage? And even if he rarely used the ability, he'd always feel like a cheater, just some genius.

I can absolutely see Toranosuke being the first to catch onto Taka's ability. Like maybe he's watching a local election on TV while Taka's in the room, and jokingly asks the 5 year old who he thinks will win. Taka pauses for a moment, before very confidently picking one of the candidates. And...he's right.

And if it were a one time thing, you could easily write it off. He had a 50% chance to be right after all. But Toranosuke's interest is peaked. So he tries again, maybe lets Taka guess the winning numbers on a lottery ticket. The boy is right again.

Maybe this is what causes the scandal in this au? Toranosuke starts making perfect investments, so perfect that people suspect his abusing his position to get insider information. After all, how can he so perfectly predict when to invest, or when to sell his stock?

At this point, he can either claim to just be very good at what he does, which won't convince anyone...or he can tell the truth about his grandson. And really, what's the downside of doing that? It proves he isn't abusing his power (at least not in the way they're accusing him of), and it GIVES him more power. Because if Kiyotaka really does have this ability, then everyone is going to want to talk to the boy.

So Toranosuke proves without a shadow of a doubt that Taka can predict things, likely on national television. It's...a pretty big freaking deal, because it straight up proves that supernatural things are real.

Takaaki is very much out of the loop on this whole thing. The first he hears about Taka's ability is when his father's is dragging the boy on television to prove it. Takaaki is...unhappy that his father would do that without warning him, to say the least.

So Taka basically becomes a child god to some people. Politicians pay ridiculous amounts of money to get predictions and advice from this 7 year old boy. There's a legit cult that worships Taka. Maybe even a few kidnapping attempts, because who wouldn't want the boy who can predict the future?

Takaaki doesn't like that such a young boy is getting dragged into this kind of stuff. It's unhealthy, and some of Taka's 'followers' are obsessive and extreme in what they'll do. A 7 year old shouldn't have worshipers.

But even as his father, Takaaki has very little power to stop what's happening. It's an entire movement, with billions of yen involved and millions of people. The fact that Taka is his son doesn't have much sway at that point. The best he can do is make sure Toranosuke doesn't exhaust his son by keeping him up all night making predictions.

As for Taka, I'm sure he loves it at first. He's helping his grandfather! He's making so many people happy! And people like him and give him things! What little kid wouldn't like it?

But as he gets older, Taka begins to question if it's really a good thing. Because some of the people he's helping don't seem to be good people. They're politicians who aren't helping people, or businessmen who are abusing the information he gave them. And the older Taka gets the more he questions if what he's doing is right.

I definitely want this Kiyotaka empire to fall somehow. Maybe the stress of the position, the fear that he's doing the wrong thing, finally gets to Taka. And his dad knows that Toranosuke won't do what's best for the boy's mental health. So he takes Taka and runs, moving into some small run down town in the middle of nowhere, praying that nobody will recognize them.

Once they've escaped the spotlight, Taka starts doing what you'd expect from him. Working hard at school, joining the morals committee, generally being a teacher's pet, ect. Perhaps he feels like he has to make up for being a tool for corrupt politicians, for having a special edge up on others that he didn't earn.

He tries his best to ignore his powers, but the fact that he doesn't want to be a clairvoyant doesn't mean he isn't one. And going from using his powers constantly to never using them does have its consequences.

Taka doesn't want to magically know which student was going to run in the hall, or who was going to try to sneak out and smoke during lunch. It's immoral of him to abuse his powers like that, even if he is right! But he does know, and he can't just sit by and let the rules be broken, even if he got to information through unjust means.

I can also see him starting to sleepwalk at some point, because all that magical energy isn't just going to stay dormant. Takaaki is very used to his son walking into his room at 3 am, and telling him to invest in some company or another. Then just...flopping on the ground like a puppet whose strings were cut. Takaaki’s gotten very good at catching him before that happens, though he’s considering buying his son a helmet to sleep in just in case.

But even for all their hiding, Taka's absolutely going to be found sooner or later. He was known as the most powerful boy in Japan, he can't just disappear without people hunting him down. Plus Taka has a very distinctive face, with the bright red eyes and huge eyebrows.

Maybe that's why he accepted a position at HP. Not because he wants anything to do with his power, but because he wants his father not to have to deal with all of the madness surrounding it. If Taka leaves, the cult following, the constant hounding, the pursuit, goes with him. Takaaki can have a normal life.

(Also, imagine how heartbreaking and infuriating it would be for Taka to get that invitation. Because this Taka has worked just as hard as canon Taka. He got perfect grades through hard work, because he knows that magically knowing the answers isn't the same as understanding the material. He's just as hard working, just as qualified for the role of Ultimate Moral Compass. And yet he's recognized for something that he can't control. He's recognized for genius rather than effort.)

Final few statements, because golly this has gotten long. I do think Taka's powers work differently than Hiro's. Taka doesn't get quite as many predictions as Hiro, but when he does get them, they're 100% accurate.

While Taka probably can predict anything, most of his predictions specifically involve politics, economic trends, and things involving breaking rules. It's likely because that's what he's interested in, so that's where his predictions focus.

Now I'm thinking about Kiyotaka and Kyoko working together on a case. Taka can predict what'll happen before it does happen, and Kyoko has the ability to solve the case with the help of Taka's predictions.

#talentswap #kiyotaka ishimaru #takaaki ishimaru #look i love this idea thank you #danganronpa #an ask tag

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dreamteamspace · 4 years

Note

So this stream I got a bit confused with what was going on with the whole spiel with schlatt and dream, and I dont actually think theres a traitor. However if there was one why not niki ya know? I mean, he kept saying how it would be way more unexpected than eret in the independance war, and literally everyone so far has been thought of as a potential traitor to pogtopia,, except well,, why not niki? She also had this letter to her "dear friend" that sounded like a new turn for her character and idk man why not?

Alright I’m a very texting type of person and you’ve got my started on my hyperfixation here we go-

My thoughts on the whole situation and why I think Fundy is the traitor:

I think from Dream’s perspective: Everything makes sense. I’m HIGHLY certain that Schlatt’s deal, which Dream said is “Something Wilbur and Tommy would never give him”, was that L’Manburg will either cease to exist (become part of the Dream SMP, and we know neither Wilbur not Tommy would ever do that), or that Dream would essentially become leader of it.

That’s why, in this flip situation, if he wins, he wins all of it. This also makes sense, as Dream is 100% alright with Wilbur just blowing it up, too: Because essentially he achieves the very same thing: L’Maburg/Manburg is no more.

Dream is absolutely right that he was never on their side or really on anybody’s side. Dream is his own side. It’s his server. He IS the Dream SMP, in that sense, just like Tommy is the spearhead of the rebellion right now.

I’m also fairly certain Dream will pull a lot more people than they think into this, and I think they ALSO know, in a meta-way, that they won’t be fighting only Schlatt and Dream and one traitor. He’s just letting them wallow in their security, although I have to say he LOVES dipping in his dramatic implications about what he’s doing or will do. In this case, he might’ve managed to keep quiet to let them think they’re safe.

So for Dream: Either they win, and L’Manburg is his/no more, or Wilbur sees they start losing, and L’Manburg is also no more. Honestly? He just has to make Wilbur panic hard enough to hit that button... and then he wins. It would be bad if he loses, though, so I do think he’ll pull together for this. He’s very competitive.

(Lot more juicy theory as to who the traitor is under the cut)

I predict that a good portion of BadboyHalo, Georgenotfound, Sapnap, Punz, potentially also people like Thunder or Alyssa?, are going to join Dream’s side. Sam seems close to the rebellion, but he’s also friends with George and Sapnap, but I just can’t see those two seriously fighting against Dream. If the stakes really are high, they’ll flip over to him, although I also can’t see them convincing Sam.

Most likely, George and Sapnap are just going to stay out of it entirely, and let Sam fight on the side of the rebellion. Maybe the current pet war might change that, though, say if Sapnap develops a new hatred against Tommy or even Sam? (I dont know what the pet war’s at atm but didn’t Sapnap and Sam fight over pets?), he would join in on Dream’s side. George? I have no idea. Most likely he just won’t be there. He doesn’t want to go against Sam (Who provides him with like. Everything), but he also doesn’t wanna fight Dream. IF he fights, though, I’m tempted to say he’d be on Dream’s side, but I’m honestly not up to date enough on his streams to say for certain.

As for the traitor: I actually haven’t seen Niki’s letter (to my great regret, I saw the news float around though), since I’m very focused on watching Tommy and Wilbur’s POVs. Honestly, if it’s Niki? That would be MASSIVELY surprising, and the biggest brain move I’ve ever seen. It’s possible, but I honestly don’t think it’s likely.

They’ve kept their characters fairly consistent, and while this IS kindof meta to say, I don’t think (with how things are atm), that Niki would betray L’Manburg, UNLESS she’s doing a double-agent thing and plans on tricking Dream in the end. That I could potentially see happening.

But knowing that she changed the anthem from Wilbur’s posessive “My L’Manburg” to just “L’Manburg”, that she’s been loyal even when they kinda half left her alone with Schlatt to tax her, and even during the pet wars she never strikes blood, but rather takes hostages and wants a sincere apology... I don’t see it right now. Then again, I don’t watch Niki’s streams on the SMP, so I could be wrong, as I’m not quite familiar with the intricacies of her character on the SMP besides the surface level.

On on hand... I also doubt whether there is a traitor at all, and Dream is just hoping to drive them apart and make sure they don’t get things done as efficiently as they could, because they’re busy pointing fingers at eachother, suspecting eachother, potentially even throwing somebody out once the tension between them snaps.

He needs to win this fight. If he does, he gets EVERYTHING. What they think of him after that point doesn’t matter, so the lie doesn’t matter. They can laugh at him afterwards, but he’ll still have won. I don’t know how many actually highly important details Dream would drop into conversation like that.

Consider, he does have a traitor. Why would he tell them he has one there? Why tell them that they’ll never guess? It just sows chaos in their group, and that’s what he wants. If he DID have one, he might just not say anything.

On the other hand: He might just be dramatic like that honestly. We all know they’re meta-fighting for the next spot in a sad-ist animatic, so Dream could very well be taking a more active role to insert himself into the story and cause some drama. Even if he DOES have a traitor on the inside, saying it still sows chaos. It’s a little risky, but if it really is something they won’t guess, then the chance that they’ll suspect the wrong person might be high enough, and make it worth it.

If he DOES actually have a traitor, my top sus are honestly Fundy, Tubbo, and maybe Ponk. I’m very sure it’s NOT Wilbur, Tommy, Sam, or Quackity.

Ponk doesn’t seem like the type of person to be reliable enough. He’s just kinda in it for the ride, and he’s too quiet to set a focus on. I don’t think Dream even considered him on the side of the rebellion for certain until today. It is, however, still possible. Tommy seems to trust him, and he’s not in deep enough for them to intently interrogate him on his loyalty, cause they know he’s more laid back when it comes to that. He feels only half in the rp to begin with, just wanting to fuck around with everyone. And then, BOOM, he’s actually been playing a massive role this whole time. It’s a little bit of a safe target, too, albeit a little underwhelming.

Tubbo... listen. We all love Tubbo. Tommy loves Tubbo, and we know Tubbo cares greatly for Tommy. Tubbo also seems(?) to care for L’Manburg. But I just....

It’s Tubbo, man. I have no idea. He seemed SO close to ACTUALLY flipping over to Schlatt before the festival. Everyone keeps pushing him around like this innocent tiny kid when he has the biggest third eye out of everyone and is the only one actually doing any work.

Tubbo has stated before that his official motivation is that he just wants peace for everyone. He just doesn’t want to fight and wants to do fun stuff. So of course he sounds horrified at the prospect of having to hunt down Tommy after Tommy was exiled, but happily went along with the festival. He was excited to do his speech. Schlatt actually placed responsability on them for once. He truly did seem happy about that.

It doesn’t matter as much to Tubbo who’s who. What matters is that the fighting preferrably stops, and they all just have a good time. Dream gave the line “I’m very convincing”, so I think he did actually have to convince the traitor, if there is one, to join his side. It wasn’t automatic.

Technically speaking, if L’Manburg is no more, and they’re all part of the Dream SMP again, doesn’t the fighting stop? If there’s no nation to fight over, then there’s no reason to fight. If L’Manburg is no more, then Schlatt has 0 power, and if Dream takes over, he could’ve promised to un-exile Tommy and Wilbur. And then they’re all part of the Dream SMP! No more fighting! Everyone’s on the same side!

Tubbo seems to care less for nations or sides, and much more for people, and for the people around them to be happy. His switch to enthusiasm at Schlatt’s festival came quickly, because many of the people he cared about still partook in it, and he never did hurt Tommy, because he does care about him.

But Tubbo DID say the line “may the festival begin” after his speech, and they knew what that would start. So why? In a way, I think Tubbo waged his options. Who does he care about more? Tommy, to his knowledge, is on Wilbur’s side. He might’ve decided in a moment of uncertainty that Wilbur and Tommy’s opinions of him are more important to them than the opinions of the other people there. Mostly Tommy, because we know those two would die for eachother. They chose Tommy over everyone else at that festival, potentially even over their own motivations, over their own gut.

Fundy, in fact, has MANY reasons to be the traitor, but isn’t quite obvious in that sense. They thought he was a traitor, actually, but once he showed them his diary, he essentially convinced all of them very certainly that he’s not the traitor, and they believed him. Dream joined the call later, so it’s possible he heard that part or Fundy told him about it (They’ve all been known to listen in on convos sometimes to know whats going in. They have to in order to build a good story line.)

Fundy has all the reasons. Reason number one, to me, is Fundywastaken. It’s canon in the Dream SMP lore, they just surprisingly haven’t done anything with it. During the independance war, that wasn’t a thing yet, and since they ARE a thing in canon now... they’ve never actually fought eachother. In fact, as things are now? We’re EXPECTING to see Dream fight his canon fiancé. Fundy officially joined the fight when Tommy asked him, confirming that they can count on him and that he will fight. We know for certain that Dream will fight.

If Fundy isn’t the traitor and doesn’t become one, then Dream and Fundy are inevitably meeting in battle on the 16th.

Consider his storyline: We’ve all been highly expecting Fundy to either punch Wilbur in the face or at LEAST be dissapointed in him or SOMETHING. He hasn’t, as far as I’m aware. He’s just standing there near him, very very quietly, giving a firm but quiet “yes” when Tommy asked him if they could count on him.

Fundy hasn’t expressed much to Wilbur at all, despite heving been left alone with Schlatt by him, despite how much he deserves to be angry at him for being patronized and not trusted with anything.

And, y’know... He’s officially Dream’s fiancé. The others don’t seem to know yet, and I don’t know how many people do know or not. It’s possible they just don’t know, and of course Dream wouldn’t tell them anything, not even tell anyone, this close before a fight. Dream might not even tell his close allies out of fear that the information could spread or that they could turn on him.

So honestly... Fundy seems the most likely for me to be the traitor, especially because there’s been plenty of foreshadowing for it, there’s a good setup, he has good reasons, and it wouldn’t seem like a cheap plottwist, but rather a gradual change.

Not to mention that meta-wise, Fundy has been actively involved in the rp and been dropping some pretty good lines himself. This isn’t something that Dream would have some non-rping person do.

I’m also kindof sure it’s not Technoblade, because Dream laughed it off and half-indicated that it is (Tommy: “I bet it’s Technoblade” Dream, cracking up: “I didn’t say that, you said that”), because he profits from doing so. He profits from them thinking Technoblade is the traitor. And also I really, really don’t think Techno would team up with Dream in this rp. Then again, Dream recently proclaimed to be on the side of chaos.... so who truly knows? I’ll definitly be surprised if it’s Techno, but I suppose it is a possibility. I just don’t think Techno can be convinced to much of anything, unless of course all it took was saying “Hey it’s Schlatt and Me against like 6 people so if we want an actual fight for once-” “Finally some bloodshed and war. I’m in”. I mean, I doubt it, but I’m leaving the possibility open.

TLDR: Dream wins if he wins the fight OR if Wilbur blows everything up. The traitor is likely either Fundy, Ponk or Tubbo, and I think there will be more people fighting on Dream’s side than just Schlatt and one traitor.

#mcyt #dream smp #mcytblr #dreamwastaken #itsfundy #fundywastaken #fwt #tubbo #nihachu #wilbur soot #dreamteamspace speaks

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clonecest-bin-account · 4 years

Text

CODY/FOX - MUTUAL PINING (200 FOLLOWERS BINGO)

(I had a lot of fun writing this prompt. Cody/Fox really grew on me and now it’s hard to tell whether this pairing is my favorite or Cody/Wolffe)

Cody and Fox have a complicated relationship, that’s for sure, but since their days in Kamino they’ve always stuck out for the other. It was more in a “nobody can mess with my vod but me” way, but with time and maturity it turned into something else, something that, however, still hasn’t been disclosed.

Fox’s on his third cup of caf and it’s barely midday. Actually, he predicts that he’ll be able to even get another one before Thorn comes bursting in for some matter or another, or just to bother him - lucky him that he has the time to conduct this kind of behavior.

This isn’t what is occupying his mind with so much insistence, however. He’s received news from Cody: apparently, the 212th have been granted a period of leave on Coruscant after a particularly long and difficult campaign.

Why he should care about that is beyond him… Except that’s a total lie, and he can’t keep lying to himself.

It’s easy to ignore his feelings when Cody’s away, but now that he’s coming back - and they’ll interact, Fox doesn’t doubt that not even for a moment - it’s going to be harder.

Why, just why?

“Huh, you seem in a mood…”

Kriff, he was so lost in his head that he hadn’t even heard the sound of the door opening.

“What do you want, Thorn?” he says, ignoring what the other has told him. He really isn’t in the mood for any kind of bullshit.

To Thorn’s credit, he doesn’t immediately begin to bother him, and actually for a moment he just stares at him, deep in thought. Then, he reaches the obvious conclusion: “Is Cody back?”

Fox hates that he’s so predictable, but he supposes that, out of everyone in the Guard, Thorn would be the one knowing him best.

“He’s going to come back soon,” he replies, purposefully keeping his tone neutral.

“And are you going to do something about it?” Thorn immediately asks, wiggling his eyebrows at Fox, who rolls his eyes.

“Of course not you di’kut!” he exclaims. As if he could!

It’s not only that he can’t do it, but he doesn’t want to do it either.

Why would Cody even return his feelings? He can have virtually everybody that catches his eyes, why would he settle with Fox of all people?

No, this is just a stupid crush…

It’s not, and no matter how many times Fox tries to deny it, he knows it, deep inside himself. Maybe one day he’ll be even brave enough to act upon these feelings, but for now he doesn’t even dare to think about that possibility, not when everything seems to be pushing against him.

“… Fox?”

“Just…” he begins shaking is head. “If there’s something you have to tell me do it, or else leave.”

Thorn seems about to say something, but eventually he thinks against it.

“Alright, I’ll let you sulk in peace if that’s what you want,” he says, beginning to walk towards the door, stopping just right before exiting, turning towards Fox. “If you want to talk about it…”

“I’ll join you later,” Fox replies, brusque, but then his tone softens, “Thank you, Thorn.”

Thorn smiles at him, something that Fox feels inclined to return, and he leaves him alone again.

Now that there’s nobody watching him, Fox can sag on his seat, not feeling the need anymore to keep himself uptight. There’s no way he can avoid seeing Cody, not when Cody himself seems so intent on seeking him out.

Besides, he’d lie if he said that he doesn’t look forward the moments they’ll get to spend together, even though he’ll probably spend them all pining over someone he’ll never have, at least not in the way he wants.

Still, as long as he gets to see him…

“You seem quiet today, Cody.”

From the previous state of torpor, of almost sleepiness, Cody jolts awake, straightening his back.

“General, sir!”

He must’ve spaced out real good if he hadn’t been able to notice his General approaching. General Kenobi, aware of this, is in fact looking at him with worried eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, sir. I was… thinking,” Cody replies, slightly flustered for having been caught in such an intimate moment.

“You looked quite troubled,” Obi-Wan observes. One good thing about him is that he never demands Cody to explain himself to him, though he surely does try pushing him to talk, though he’s always very subtle in the way he does it. Still, Cody knows him enough to know when he’s doing it, just like now.

He’s grateful for having found a friend in the General, but some things are just too personal even for him.

“It’s just… It’s been a while since we’ve been back on Coruscant,” he replies. It’s not that off the truth, after all.

“That is true,” Obi-Wan concedes, reaching then to touch Cody’s shoulder. “Do make sure to get some rest, alright?”

“I will, sir. Thank you,” Cody replies, smiling.

As soon as General Kenobi leaves, however, the smile dies on his face.

When he commed Fox to give him the news of him imminent arrival, he looked happy in the “I’m excited but I refuse to show it” way, but Cody’s afraid that he’s seeing too much into something that actually doesn’t mean anything.

It’s that he’s always wanted to impress him so much that he’s willing to latch into the smallest things to think that he’s done it, like the way Fox smiled as soon as he told him that he’ll stay on Coruscant for a while.

He wants Fox to be happy to see him, even though he can’t help but to find the thought selfish on the other hand as well, that’s why he’s never spoken to anyone about these feelings of his, not even with Fox. Actually, Fox will be the last one knowing about them, because Cody has no intentions to tell him.

Rex has called him repressed many times and well, he’s not entirely wrong. Even though there’s nothing more Cody wants to do than to tell Fox, he knows he won’t.

He sighs.

Oh well, at least he gets to spend some time with him. It has to be enough.

Fox knows it mustn’t look good that he’s meeting Cody right at the Negotiator’s landing point, but what can he say? He’s too impatient to see him again.

Luckily for him, nobody asks any questions, which means that he doesn’t have to lie to anybody; he didn’t even have any convincing lie to begin with, so he would’ve probably just told people to mind their business, which would’ve surely turned into them minding everything but their business.

He’s barely able to hide his trepidation; he does it only to maintain his reputation and, most importantly, because he doesn’t want Cody to think that he’s way too happy to see him.

Play it cool, Fox, play it cool…

He plants his feet on the ground once he spots Cody, having to fight the instinct to run at him. That would be highly improper for someone of his rank.

Thankfully, Cody spots him immediately and he waves at him, removing his bucket. Fox is almost blinded by his smile; it’s been a while since he’s seen him this relaxed.

“Fox, didn’t expect to see you here,” he greets him once they’re close enough. Fox smiles under his bucket; he could remove it but he figures that they’re not alone enough for that - old habits die hard he supposes.

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” comes the reply then, earning a chuckle from Cody.

“Speaking of surprises…” he says then. “General Kenobi told me about this tea house in the city that makes the best tea of all Coruscant. What do you say if we get you something other than caf in your system for a change?”

Cody can’t see him but Fox rolls his eyes at his words, though he ignores the jab at him -which, by the way, is completely false. Now more than ever he’s grateful for his bucket, so he doesn’t risk appearing too overjoyed by that proposal. What did he say? Play it cool.

“If you insist, I suppose I can make some time for you…” he says then, hands on his hips.

“Awesome! I’ve got some stuff to take care of now, you know, Marshal Commander stuff,” Cody replies. Yeah, Fox is aware of their duties quite well. “I’ll comm you when I’m done.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Cody smiles at him, then he begins to step away, surely to join his General, leaving Fox alone again.

Only now he removes his bucket, since there’s nobody he needs to hide his face from.

He mustn’t make the mistake of thinking that this outing between him and Cody means more than it actually does, but he can’t help but to be happy about it; he truly can’t wait to see him again.

Unbeknownst to him, Cody feels the exact same.

#200 followers bingo #cloneshipping #clonecest #codyfox #commander cody #commander fox #my fics

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Four (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, MURDER, GORE.

wc; 8.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Even though the Hunger Games doesn’t start until ten, you’re in the betting room at nine. You’re not the first and only mentor to come down bright and early, there’s plenty of others who are already making their way around the room. Shaking hands, exchanging compliments and holding friendly conversation.

You’re not exactly the same way, as you stand off to the side, gnawing on your thumb’s nail. You’ve watched Annie and Marsh’s odds bob up and down plenty of times already, as the gamemakers try to decide where they belong last minute. So far, Annie and Marsh are back to back in numbers, with Marsh being on top.

“You’re stressed.”

Gloss is staring up at the betting board when you look over at him. He’s got his arms crossed, serious and straight-faced. In the past, he would be some type of excited because of their undeniably fantastic tributes. This year is different, as you’ve already discovered many times. His male tribute scored lower than usual, and the girl is higher by one single point.

It’s normal for the careers to score from anywhere between eight and ten, but that doesn’t mean they want an eight. They want nines and tens, because it shows proficiency and dangerousness. Plus, it’s normally District Four who’s scoring eights and whatnot. A good example of that is when Finnick scored the number when he was fourteen.

Today’s seriousness doesn’t reflect the attitude that was being presented last night. Last night was much livelier, a laughing group of mentors on the streets of the Capitol. Of course, as Finnick requested, you all stayed inside and in private rooms for most of the time, but eventually he decided that he wanted to experience the festival the way you guys normally do.

Which is practically chaos, as Gloss and Enobaria feed into each other’s bad thoughts and drag you around the city doing whatever they want. Trying on regular Capitol wear, buying replica crowns that Snow places on the brows of victors. They try different drinks and foods, all a hundred different flavors, some sweet, others sour, sometimes spicy.

The Capitol is a playground to them, and it’s fun to watch them break rules and create their own. Playing games on the sidewalk to see who will chug the next cherry vodka, who will lose a shirt or a sock or a piece of expensive jewelry down a storm drain. The night of the interviews is the only night where you all get to be your true selves.

Even Finnick felt comfortable enough to join in on your antics. It’s always a night to remember, you’re sure that he’ll be using it to tell stories in the future. The year where you cornered Finnick to helping you, and how he saw that you weren’t always who you pretended to be. It’s easy to be professional when you don’t like someone, but it’s harder to contain yourself when you’re surrounded by people who understand what you’re going through.

Of course, it’s only one night. If your tributes die, you get sent home, so you never have the chance to congratulate and celebrate with your friends after they bring home another tribute. You can always say your peace the next year, but by then they’re over it, and they’re ready for another victor.

“So are you.” you playfully punch his bicep, “Look at you, you never cross your arms.”

He gives you a smile, “Whatever, it’s not that much of a giveaway.”

“You’re right, it was definitely your face. You never scowl.” You look at the board again to see that all the numbers seem to be locked, “Careful, you’ll end up with wrinkles. After that, people will really begin to realize that you’re older than Cashmere.”

The board is a little confusing at first to get used to, but after years of looking at it, you’ve grown accustomed to it. At the top reads ‘MORNING LINE ODDS’, and below is a row readied for how many days, hours, minutes and seconds the tributes have been inside of the arena. Which is none at the moment, so instead they have a countdown going on. Fifty-four minutes. Less than an hour.

Below it are more rows and information about the tributes. The left states their district, and then it splits into two. The Capitol doesn’t care about names anymore, just the important parts. Their heights, weights, ages, betting odds and faces are displayed for everyone to see.

For Gloss and Cashmeres tributes, they’re both doing fairly good on odds. The girl has a predicted 5-1 chance of winning, and the boy has a 7-1. In the past, the roles have been reversed, the boys always show a brute strength during their private training so it’s hard not to score like that. Enobaria and Wades tributes are better, even with the repeating numbers. The girl has a 5-1 too, but the boy holds a 3-1 because of his score.

The gamemakers are used to your tributes’ scores teetering on the edge of very good and mediocre, which normally earns them a 9-1 or lower. However, since your tributes have shown promise through personality and matching high numbers, you’re staring at a 7-1 for Marsh and a 8-1 for Annie. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than the past scores.

You think that the lowest you’ve seen for District Four is a 20-1. That was a particularly horrible year, and since then you’ve learned to stop the problem before it gets too bad to be fixed. Maybe it’s attitude, maybe it’s not caring for training, you’re there with dead eyes and mean words to put them back in their place. They like to self-sabotage, not a good thing to do when you’re going into the Hunger Games.

On one hand, you’re thankful for the morning line odds, because it gets the betters a sense of direction of which tributes they should sponsor and keep an eye on. But sometimes it seems futile when the sponsors will do whatever they want, or go for the more obvious and favorable tributes--cough cough, Districts One and Two. You can never go wrong betting on the districts that practically get a winner every year.

“Haha.” Gloss says in regards to your age comment, “Where’s Finnick?”

You shrug, “Couldn’t find him at all this morning.”

It’s true, you searched the entire apartment three times before leaving. The living room, the kitchen, the balcony, your bedroom, his bedroom, even in the hallway and stairwell. There wasn’t a single trace of Finnick anywhere, it didn’t even look like he spent the night in his room, but you definitely remember him going in there last night.

Whatever, you’re not all that upset. It’s the first day, and even if there’s a lot that happens on the first day, sponsorships aren’t one of them. The first day relies on the tributes to get used to their surroundings and figure things out for themselves. The second day is when mentors and sponsors begin to collaborate.

Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be down here anyway. It’s nice to make friends while you can. You’ll just have to talk to Finnick later about him helping you down here. The whole reason why you’ve called on him for help this year is because of the betting room. An extra pair of eyes, ears and hands helps out, it goes a long ass way. Two people mingling is better than one. You can pull more sponsors together.

You glance at Gloss, “Where’s Cashmere and the others?”

“Wade’s here,” Gloss turns, thumb jabbing in the direction. He’s got the spot perfectly right, you’re able to see that Wade is surrounded by Capitol people, all laughing and joking around, “Cashmere and Enobaria will be down here later. They’re sleeping in, I think.”

“Well, after last night…” you trail off with a small smile, and Gloss snorts.

It’s quiet between you two as you watch the time tick down. Thirty minutes left, the tributes are close or in the catacombs at this point. Judging by the small glimpse the gamemakers gave this year, you think that the arena’s going to be sunny. They’re probably dressed in regular clothing, stuff that won’t make the tributes too hot but won’t allow them to get cold easily.

Honestly, at this point, you’re tired of the build up.

“At least your tributes’ odds are doing well this year.”

“Tell me about it. But it came at a price, since yours fucked up during training.” you run a hand through your hair, getting annoyed when it falls back in your face.

“There’s always room for redemption.”

Redemption, what a pointless thing to bank on, “Right.”

You’d tell him it’s good to have hope, but when has hope ever helped you? It’s always a letdown. And out of all tributes that are about to enter the arena, the careers aren’t the ones that need hope. It’s everyone else.

More silence, you mindlessly watch the time tick down. Thirty minutes, twenty, fifteen, ten. Everyone starts getting antsy around five, you and Gloss stand behind the rows of chairs that begin to fill with citizens. Wade comes around and joins the two of you, talking about what he discovered during conversation.

He was going after their opinions on the tributes. And while they have sung good praise of their tributes, as usual, they also couldn’t stop bringing up Marsh in particular. There were constant comments on how they had wished that he would’ve gotten more time on stage. It was new to them, and they liked the new approach.

You figure that other mentors will start telling their tributes to follow in Marsh’s footsteps, and after that the comedy skit will be ruined and you’ll have to find something else that’ll catch attention. At this point, everything possible has been found and exploited until it got old.

Twenty seconds until it hits a minute, which is when they’ll raise the tributes. The games don’t officially start until that minute is over. The clock will flip, and then it’ll start from the bottom up. You clench your teeth, spinning your ring around your finger over and over. Annie and Marsh are in the tubes, submerged in darkness, you can feel it yourself, the stomach lurching and the dread and regret. It’s too late now, they have to fall through on what they’ve built so far.

They’ve got this. They’ve got this. They’ve got this.

The clock hits a minute and five seconds, you can begin to see the tops of tributes heads. You lean forward slightly, eyes searching for Annie and Marsh, and find them easily. They’re close together, maybe two tributes between them, which is good news. They can see each other and decide what they want to do. You hope they discussed some sort of plan at some point regarding how they want to start their games off.

The cornucopia this year is silver and placed in the middle of a field of flowers. The grass is tall too, but thin enough to see where the gamemakers have placed the goodies outside of the cornucopia this year. As the camera pans around the tributes, you’re able to catch glimpses of the arena.

A field of flowers, hills that seem to stretch forever and offer little to no protection. In the distance is… a village? Others must see it too, because whispers break out, predictions on which tributes will immediately run for it. It’s an obvious place to go, Annie and Marsh won’t head there first. They’ll go for a better place.

However, it’s not inevitable, it’ll probably be the first place where the careers will go to get as many people out as possible. For a quick and scary moment, you think that this will be a fast Hunger Games. Whatever happens, just let one of your tributes last until the end.

One last shot before the sixty seconds is over, and it feels like you’ve been stabbed in the heart.

The dam that they showed--the preview--they must’ve edited it or something with how they made it look so small and not at all threatening. You thought it was holding back a small river, especially with the stream of water that was coming from it. But this--this is not for a river. This is for a fucking lake.

“Oh my fucking god.” you lace your fingers, placing your hands on the back of your head.

“Wow.” Gloss utters, “Yeah that isn’t at all what they showed us.”

From what you can tell, the tributes are supposed to be far away from the dam, a couple miles at least. But it’s still big enough to see through the trees, and tall enough to block some of the sky. Actually, it reminds you of the cliffs in your games. The cliffs were a two day walk from the cornucopia, and yet you could see them over the tops of the trees.

No one in their right mind would head towards the dam, especially with the chance that it would break. It’s just not common sense, and Annie and Marsh have shown promise when it comes to thinking logically. Which means that they would have to head the other way… towards the village.

They’re fucked. Everyone in that arena is set up for failure. You give it a couple of days, maybe a week and a half at most. No one in their right mind is going to want to stay next to the dam, but on the other hand they won’t want to get killed. And you can hide near the dam at the beginning of the games, but eventually if you want to head towards the village and clear hills, people will see you coming from a mile away.

You clench your fists, gritting your teeth more as your nails dig into the skin on your palms.

Out of all the arena’s that you’ve seen, this is by far the worst. It’s a trap, there’s no choice but to fall victim to it.

“Well, there goes literally everything.” Wade lets out a laugh.

“The others should be down here.” Gloss says.

He’s referring to Enobaria, Cashmere and Finnick, and he’s completely right. They won’t know what’s happening or the situation until later. By then, it’ll be too late. The bloodbath always costs around seven to ten lives, and if they all scatter towards the village, you think at the end of the day, half the competition will be gone.

The countdown has reached five, you watch as Annie and Marsh prepare to run into the cornucopia. It isn’t a bad choice, they’re good fighters. As long as they don’t go too far in, maybe grab the supplies that are only a few feet away from the mouth, they’ll be golden. You hope they realize this.

The gong sounds.

It’s only been a couple of seconds, and a handful of tributes are already heading towards the village. Others dare to run towards the dam, but they’re all apprehensive and continue to steal longing looks at the cornucopia and beyond that. They’re not the focus of the cameras, though.

The bloodbath is horrible as usual. Annie and Marsh are next to each other, stealing things out of the grass, shoving them into an empty backpack. Sheets of plastic, bread, firestarters, rope, water jugs. You watch with furrowed eyebrows, trying to keep track of the careers and the deaths.

On the side of the screen is a list, one at a time names and districts appear. The girl from Six, the boy from Eight, the girl from Eleven, the boy from Twelve. Two minutes in and four are already dead. Annie and Marsh head towards the cornucopia quickly, a plan already in mind.

Marsh slips inside of the cornucopia, making your heartbeat in your ears, body filling with adrenaline. Stupid move, going inside traps you there. Not even in your games did you go inside all the way. He’s gone for ten seconds, twenty. Annie doesn’t appear to be worried at first, but it changes when a career sets their eyes on her.

The boy from One.

“Oh, here we go.” you cross one arm over your chest, the other covering your mouth.

Annie ditches the backpack, throwing it against the cornucopia to keep it clear of her path. Out of nowhere, she pulls out a knife, spinning it between her fingers to make sure that the boy knows she has it. Her body curls in forward, chin dropping downwards.

She would look threatening, as if she has a chance at winning this fight if it weren’t for the short blade that the boy has. He comes towards her, a smile hinting at the corners of his lips. He swings, she dodges easily and advances forward. Annie isn’t a runner, especially not when she has a plan.

This is life or death, Annie. This isn’t practice anymore. This is for real.

He swings again, she moves out of the way and comes closer, a little out of range. The boy is becoming frustrated, and his swings begin to cut close. Annie side steps, you can see the blade cut through her shirt, when the boy holds his blade up, you can see a glint of blood. Annie doesn’t even look phased.

Where the hell is Marsh? You look at the corner of the screen, reading over the new list of deaths. The boy from Eleven, the girl from Twelve, the girl from Ten. Seven dead, the bloodbath is practically over, Annie and Marsh need to get out of there now.

He swings again, cutting Annie’s upper left arm. She barely acknowledges it, when the gamemakers change camera angles, you can finally see her face. All those times you’ve watched her fight the other kids at the boarding school, she’d be able to sweep most of the kids with her eyes closed. On the days you and Anchor permitted actual harm, she became more serious about fighting.

Annie shifted in those moments. Her eyes dead, locking on the target in front of her. She always has a plan, always ready to move and bait the person in. She’ll tense in sticky situations, but always find her way out of it. She became unlikable when fighting others because of this. Always said that it was an unfair fight.

And she’s about to bring the boy from One down.

The boy swings one more time, Annie moves out of the way in time for him to miss. Not a second later, she’s launching towards him, the knife perfectly aimed for his stomach. He’s quick to try and slash at her, so she has to drop the knife in the grass and grab his wrist instead, falling on top of him.

Annie slams her knee into the boy's left wrist, and uses both of her hands to force the sword in the other hand, down towards his throat. His face turns an angry shade of red, eyebrows forced so close that there’s a deep crease between them. Annie’s face is determined, the kind and polite girl that you saw yesterday evening is nowhere to be seen.

It’s a struggle between them, Annie’s got a tight grip around his wrist, knuckles turning white. She grits her teeth, lip curling, lets up for a moment on the arm, only to go crashing back down. The boys’ locked arm breaks, and the sword slides through his throat. Red, thick blood comes out of his throat, painting his tan skin and the silver blade.

Annie lets out a sound, pulls out the sword, and slams it into his forehead. On the side of the screen, the boy from One appears. You let out a breath, watching as Annie gathers her things. It’s right on time for Marsh to come fighting out, the girl from One trying to stop him. His face is twisted like he’s in pain, but it’s just how he focuses too.

If they knock out District One, Gloss and Cashmere go home. It’s over, and all you have to worry about is the District Two tributes. For the first time in a very long time, District One won’t survive past the first day.

It doesn’t work out like that, Marsh sends a harsh kick to her leg and she crumples. He and Annie regroup, and the two of them take off running towards the dam, the backpack bouncing on Annie’s back, Marsh tightly holding onto his favorite weapon. Annie now has the short blade to use.

“Okay.” you breathe, because it could be worse.

The village is going to be a slaughter, so you don’t blame them for running towards the dam. They just need to find another place to stay soon, and hope that the careers don’t come towards them for revenge.

“Congrats.” Gloss has got a smile on his face, clapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks, I guess. One more tribute and you get sent home.” you raise your eyebrows at him.

He rolls his eyes, “They’ll have to try really hard to get that to happen.”

“Anything is possible!” you cheer.

The bloodbath lasted about twenty minutes, even if it didn’t feel like it. The main career group has three left; two girls and one boy. Annie and Marsh are still very much alive, taking camp by the dam. The total bloodbath deaths is eight. Districts Eleven and Twelve are gone; Parry, Seeder and Haymitch are going home.

They’re nowhere to be seen, which you can’t really blame them for. Haymitch is the only victor in his district, and Parry won ten years ago so he replaced Chaff when it comes to mentoring. After a long streak of losing, you’re sure that you’d find yourself holed up in the apartment too. Why bother showing up in the betting room if you know your tributes won’t make it past the first day?

Although, District Eleven typically has their tributes last a while longer. But you guess it’s different this year since both of their tributes ran into the cornucopia on the assumption that they’d make it out alive. At this point, no tributes make it out alive unless they’re very good at fighting or they can slip between fingers.

You take a look at the betting board to see that the dead tributes are greyed out since they’re impossible to bet on. Everyone else who’s still alive have had their odds increase slightly. Now that the gamemakers have seen survival and fighting skills come alive, they can determine how the rest of the games are going to go much better.

The girl from One has increased to a 4-1, the other two careers stay the same. Annie has gone from an 8-1 to a 6-1, Marsh stays the same. Killing the career boy has done her good. Your two tributes will have sponsors around the corner in no time. You think that Finnick will be excited to hear this.

On screen, the careers gather what they need and air out of the cornucopia, heading towards the village, as predicted. For a second, there’s a disagreement, as the girl from One wants to head after Annie and Marsh to take care of them before they become a serious problem, but the other two vote against her, so she’s stuck going towards the village.

Annie and Marsh aren’t the only two who went towards the dam, there’s about three to four others who are there too. Still, the majority went straight for the village, which could very well be because it’ll give them cover from any of the elements, but you can’t imagine that there’s any sort of water source. The gamemakers like to keep the sources to a minimum and in one spot to make sure that the tributes come across each other on refills.

With the bloodbath being over, you can breathe. You, Gloss and Wade take a seat on a couch nearby, with you and Gloss being pressed against the arms, and Wade being sat in the middle. You’d say that it’s crowded, Gloss and Wade aren’t the smallest guys to exist, but there’s still enough breathing room between all of you.

You tap your fingers against the arm of the chair, watching as the cameras all split into groups. Annie and Marsh being one, still running into the woods to put as much distance between them and the cornucopia as possible. The second team of tributes being District Seven, as they’re working together this year, heading towards the left, away from the stream of water that Annie and Marsh are unintentionally going to come across.

The other two tributes by the dam are the girl from Eight and the boy from Five, scattered in their own special way, but not shown individually on screen. They’re not as important, it looks like the gamemakers are focusing on alliances at the moment. Next up are the careers, taking their time with making their way down and over the grassy hills. They’re digging through their backpacks and laughing about something.

There’s no alliance in the village at all. After a few more seconds of glimpses of the alliance tributes, it’s switched to individual. From what you’re able to see, the village is pretty big. At least six tributes are scattered inside of houses or making their way as deep inside as possible. As far as the forest goes, two people are wandering around. There’s only one tribute that you can’t decide where they are because of the way she’s cleverly placed herself.

The bloodbath canons begin to go off now, there’s a series of different reactions. Eight deaths in the bloodbath isn’t even that uncommon, the most you’ve probably seen before is twelve. Hell, in your games you think that there were nine total. Typically, the tributes have enough common sense to save themselves right off the bat.

“What do you think the dam’s about?” Gloss suddenly asks.

Your eyes slowly land on him to see that he’s waiting on you and Wade. Wade shrugs his shoulders, not knowing what to say. They don’t know? How can they not know? You thought that the dam was pretty straight forward. Maybe they weren’t standing in front of the tv close enough to see the cracks.

A part of you wants to tell them what your predictions are, but you bite your tongue and shrug too. In the past, mentors have been able to send secret messages to tributes. It happened in your games, it’s happened in others, and you’ve even sent a couple when it was direly needed. So telling them could backfire in your face.

Even if you’re friends with them, sometimes you can’t trust to give others certain information. It’s so risky, knowing that the other mentor can easily pass off the information. Especially during the initial week inside of the Capitol. The tributes are at your fingertips.

It’s why you resort to being mysterious most of the time. While your mentor friends have nothing to hide because they put their plans out in the open from the start—because you all know that it’s no secret that the careers are powerhouses. You rely on the element of surprise to get you through literally everything.

The mentors can’t tell their tributes what your opinion is if you don’t give one. They can’t tell them that you’re sure your tributes are absolutely deadly and pose one of the biggest threats in the arena this year. They have to rely on past experiences to make predictions, but even then, sometimes districts manage to pull surprises out of nowhere.

The clock hits the first hour mark, by then the careers have made it to the village. Already beginning to weave their way in and out of houses. They’re not exactly quiet, so if a tribute hears them coming, they’ll easily be able to hide before the career gets to them.

Well, that’s what you think. However, every time a tribute is shown individually, you see that there’s nothing to hide behind. There’s no doors, and if there are, they’re broken or falling apart from years with no use. It’s like a terrifying game of hide and seek, but there’s hardly hiding. It’s a game of skill and luck now.

Luck that you won’t get found or your house won’t get chosen. That the career will come just close enough but turn their back at the last second when they decide that a place is clear. But it’s skill, testing the careers senses. Seeing if they properly know how to clear an area completely of tributes.

Just like how luck wasn’t on the side of these tributes when their names got chosen, it’s not on their side when it comes to hiding in plain sight, either. One by one, they’re all found.

The first one is the girl from Five, pressed tightly against the wall, holding her breath with tears slowly coming to her eyes. You can practically hear her chanting in her head, “Please don’t find me, please don’t fine me—“

The girl from One rounds the corner, without a single hesitation, she shoves the sword through the other girls’ stomach before the girl can defend herself. The sword pins the girl to the wall, blood spilling out of her stomach. Five has her mouth open in shock, eyes locked on the weapon, fingers fumbling to touch it.

One looks pleased, a smile creeping onto her face. For a moment, you can see Cashmere in her. The blonde hair, the green eyes, they all look the same in District One. All the same form of deadly, and they pull sponsors without even having to try because of their good looks. But everything comes at a price, and Cashmere was no exception.

Five doesn’t have a chance to plead, One pulls out her knife and finishes the job. A canon goes off, another teenager greyed out on the betting board. Nine dead. A sick feeling in your stomach tells you that this is going to be another bloodbath.

The boys work together, taking out the bigger houses since the girl wanted to go it alone. They’ll clear one, making sure to make it known, but stick inside of the house for a second to wait to see if they can hear movement. When they’re absolutely sure there’s none, they move on.

This plan doesn’t work initially, they get passed at least three houses before they hear a noise. Had the boy just waited a couple of seconds more, they wouldn’t have been able to hear his footsteps as he creeped down the loud stairs, giving away his position.

With the Ten boy dead, the District Ten mentors are going home. Which you’re sure is a bummer for them, knowing that they’ve been doing pretty good lately when it comes to victors. They’ve had two in the past ten years, which is a good improvement from the gap that they had before.

In the next house that the boys come across is a girl, the gamemakers give no indication on district. And you’re not sure that it matters because she’s dead within the first minute they search the house. The hiding spot wasn’t that bad, but when there’s two searching, more spots are bound to be discovered.

District Three girl gets greyed out on the board. There’s three people still hiding inside of the village, the boys from Nine, Three and Six. All in different places, and the only one that seems to be the furthest is Six, and you can take a pretty big guess as to why.

His district is power. They’re the main producer for it for everyone, and it wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for the gigantic dam that they have. It’s hydroelectricity, the water passes through the dam, turns some gears and it fuels the Capitol and a portion of the other districts. It makes sense that he would be the one that would try and get away as far as possible.

It means that he knows something that the rest of them don’t. However, you have that much figured out. The dam is the danger here, but he must know the mechanics behind it. Why it’s going to fall apart, what event can set it off, how far it’s going to reach when it does. He’s so far away from the dam at this point, miles away from the cornucopia, and he still keeps moving.

It just means that the blast radius of the dam is going to wipe out a large berth of things. Trees, potentially the cornucopia, definitely the houses in the village. And that’s to name a few. There’s no telling what can be uprooted with the force of the water. You’re just curious how anyone will survive it.

Another tribute gets found, it’s the boy from Nine. The careers have regrouped now, all in different forms of bloody. You grit your teeth and try not to gag, remembering the smell of blood, and the feeling of the thickness on your skin. It’s not a pretty feeling, and you can’t shake it, not even all these years later.

The careers agree to stop looking for tributes and start for water instead. Which is a good sign for the two tributes left in the village--potentially three. But as for everyone else in the trees, it’s not as good. You’re sure that Annie and Marsh are far away enough from the stream of water that’s coming out of the dam at the moment, but there’s no way to tell.

Actually, it probably doesn’t even matter that they’re far away from the stream of water, considering that no one knows that it actually exists, except for the mentors. Unless someone went and opened their mouth and gave it away, which you wouldn’t be surprised about. You’re all a bunch of cheats and liars, at this point. There’s no use denying it.

The careers don’t even start to head towards the dam anyway, so that eliminates most of the worry. With the interest in them gone, it’s back to the remaining tributes inside of the arena. It’s been nearly three hours and already half of the competition is gone. When you said that it wouldn’t last more than a week and a half, you weren’t thinking that it would be because of this. You thought it would be the dam.

Everyone loves a good plot twist though, right? Right?

You get up from the couch to stretch your legs, figuring that the worst of the first day is over. It’s one in the afternoon, Annie and Marsh can clearly take care of themselves when it comes to fighting off other tributes. Their main worry at the moment is probably finding water and setting up camp somewhere.

If they were to just head right, towards the stream, they should come upon that shack uphill. It’s risky, staying that close to the dam but they don’t really have much of a choice unless they want to stay the night out in the open. At least with a shack they have shelter and they’re hidden. If someone comes upon it, they’ll have the upper hand.

“Alright, I think I might go back to the Four apartment to eat lunch. Don’t know if I’ll be down here later.” you say, looking at Wade and Gloss.

“And narrowly miss your two best friends?” Gloss asks.

“I have days to see them, I’m not really that worried. Plus, last night was enough to fuel me for the next decade. You’re lucky if I don’t start pretending I don’t know your four altogether.”

“Haha.” Gloss rolls his eyes, but gets to his feet.

He gives you a one-armed hug, you pat his back slightly. Wade isn’t much for physical contact in the first place, so he holds out his hand as a supplement. You slap it, looking at Gloss, “Sorry about your tribute.”

“He was a moron anyway.”

“I’ll see you later then--” you go to turn towards the door but find that you’re face to face with a Capitol woman, dressed in bright blue with accents of black. You have to take a step back so that you’re not breathing the same air as her, giving her a polite smile, “Hello.”

“Are you Annie’s mentor?” she asks.

Three hours in, and Annie’s already going to get a sponsor. It’s probably healing cream for the cuts she endured when fighting the One boy. You have to admit, if she’s completely healed, she’ll be able to move quicker and won’t have to worry about using medical stuff. The blades on the knives and swords are so sharp, especially when they haven’t been used before. Pick your toughest material and it could move through it like cloth.

Your eyes find Annie and Marsh on screen to see that they’re taking a break, going through the stuff in their backpack. Now would be a good time to do it before they get ahead of themselves. You give the Capitol woman a bigger smile, “Yes, are you interested in sponsoring?”

The whole process only takes a few minutes. You and her discuss what exactly she’s looking for, and what the ranges of the healing cream will have. It’s so extremely dirt cheap because it’s the beginning of the games, only three hours in. The longer the games go on, the more prices will be amped up. What could buy you an entire feast on the first day will only get you a loaf of bread later on, maybe not even that.

The woman lets you know that the main reason for deciding to go through with this is because of Annie’s manners on stage. That she can’t believe that Annie is only eighteen and acts like she’s been on this earth for much longer. You have to agree, Annie has her moments where she’s wiser than the rest of you. But it’s mainly because she’s been forced to grow up quicker, thanks to the boarding school.

When it comes to the note, you type in, “Right with you.”

It’s not the best when it comes to hinting at where to go, but you send it and watch it get approved. The first sponsor gift of the Seventieth Hunger Games, and it’s going to your tributes. One last time, you thank the woman and assure her that Annie is very grateful for her compassion.

Now you can’t leave just yet, and have to wait as it slowly comes down to them. You stand by Gloss and Wade, listening to the chiming of the gift. When it comes into earshot of Annie and Marsh, they immediately perk up, searching the trees.

“Found it!” Annie calls, pointing it out while getting to her feet. The cuts don’t even seem to phase her all that much, so it’s partially a waste of money but at least they’ll be able to use it later on if the need arises.

Annie catches the silver gift in her hands, rejoining Marsh as she pops it open. You didn’t really give them any instructions on how to apply it, they’ll have common sense not to use the whole tube, you think. They read over the words to themselves in their head first, before Annie is smiling fondly.

“That’s very sweet.” Annie says, “(Y/n)’s encouraging us as always.”

No, that’s not it. You’re not worried about the misinterpretation, especially not after the knowing look they give each other. Annie folds the paper and places it in her breast pocket, not even reading it out loud for everyone to know. It’s their own choice, and it’s probably a good one at any rate.

Annie has Marsh apply the cream while she tries not to look like she’s in too much pain. You know that it’s not easy having people dig their fingers in your wounds. Fuck, you might have initially blacked out after that bear mutt attack, but you were still half awake. Every single time they went a little too deep or were a little too harsh, you were jolted awake. You’re fairly surprised that you still remember it. It was almost like a fever dream.

Annie and Marsh take a couple more minutes relaxing, but the audio cuts on their part to give the District Seven tributes a chance at the spotlight. It doesn’t mean that you’re not able to see your tributes, though. You’re able to watch them motion and flesh out a plan. It’s good to see that they get along so well, makes for a strong alliance.

Annie motions about heading towards the wall, Marsh’s face begins to harden up. Annie changes to pointing, jabs her thumb in the direction of the cornucopia. Marsh says something, you think you make out the word ‘water’. Annie then holds her arm out to the right, taps the pocket on her chest, and then it seems like they have a plan. They pack up, and head towards the right.

And with that, you go to leave because it’s finally your window. But Cashmere and Enobaria come through the door, bearing a basket and big smiles, “Good afternoon! How’s our tributes doing?”

“Is that food?” you ask, Cashmere hands over the basket, and when you look inside, there’s cold cut sandwiches and flavored bubble water. It really looks like you won’t be leaving here anytime soon.

You all pick your regular back table, that’s perfectly out of earshot of other mentors and Capitol citizens, but you’re still able to see the line odds and the screen with the tributes. They lay out the food, you nibble on your sandwich while Cashmere and Enobaria ask questions and Gloss and Wade give up information.

“Bloodbath knocked out eight tributes.” Wade says, playing with the bubbly water cap, “Which includes Eleven and Twelve.”

“Figures, they’re not very good fighters anyway.” Enobaria says, “Didn’t Eleven have the seventeen year-old girl?”

“She only scored a six so it’s not like she was anything special.” Cashmere has her eyes on Gloss, slowly squinting at him, “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” Gloss makes a face and shrugs. There goes whatever cover he was trying to grasp at.

Cashmere stares at him for a second longer before turning around and looking at the line odds. It doesn’t take long to find, the boy is the first tribute on the left row. She doesn’t even have to look for it. The name is greyed out, of course, Cashmere turns back to Gloss.

“When did Colt die?” she asks.

“The bloodbath.” Gloss says, leaning his head against his hand now, “He went after Annie--(Y/n)’s tribute. He didn’t even stand a chance.”

Cashmere raises her eyebrows, and then looks at you, “Seriously? What happened?”

Conversation launches, you, Gloss and Wade do your best to tell them all the details. Starting from the bloodbath, who’s where in the arena, to the village. They’re not all that surprised to hear that their career pack got an additional four kills, the careers go hunting after the bloodbath to try and get as many as possible. But it’s a shock to know that half the tributes are gone.

After bloodbaths, careers get one--maybe two--kills. And it normally doesn’t happen immediately after the bloodbath, either. It’s sometime during the night because it’s easiest to spot the fires. Hardly ever is there a second slaughter immediately after the first. Because of this, you don’t think that they’re going to have a feast at the cornucopia this year. There won’t be enough tributes to make it worth it.

Annie and Marsh come across water, fill the jugs and put iodine to clean the water. They wander up a little further and find the shack. Just like that, they can call it a day since they’ve already got enough food to last them two days. All they have to do now is set up a plan to keep the food coming.

The careers come across basically a small clear pond. The last time you drank from a pond, you came down with Typhoid fever, really fun times. The Capitol was a bitch for making that dirty water clear to drink from, but the normally ideal water a fucking trick. You are so lucky that the Capitol had the medicine to make sure that the effects weren’t long-term. Otherwise, who knows what you’d be living with right now?

The betting room starts to clear out in the evening because it’s supper time for all of them. You stick around with the pack for a little while longer, remarking that you’re all surprised that Finnick didn’t show up at all, even with all the time he had. Once you’re sure that your tributes can survive the night, you’re bidding goodbyes.

It feels good to walk back to the apartment and to stretch your legs after going between sitting and standing. Sitting at the table already is Elysia, she looks happy to see you, “Welcome back.”

“Feels good to be back up here.” you laugh, tying your hair up, “Have you seen Finnick at all? He didn’t come by at all.”

Elysia shakes her head, “I went to get him for dinner and the rooms empty.”

“Huh,” you let out, sitting at the table.

It's odd, being here with only Elysia again. Makes your stomach churn slightly, actually. No tributes, no Finnick, only you in the betting room… Why do you have a feeling that this isn’t a coincidence?

You said that you’d give Finnick today. The first day isn’t the busiest, it’s the days that follow, when the heat starts to get turned up and the stakes rise. Then the tributes start getting hurt, requiring more to sustain whatever lifestyle they’ve built for themselves. It’s going to be impossible to go to the cornucopia to refill on goods when the entire thing is in a field. What are you going to do? Hide in the grass?

You and Elysia eat dinner, quietly chatting about what you think’s going to happen. In the end, it’s late and you should call it a night. But when you reach your room, hand on the doorknob, something tells you that you shouldn’t go to bed just yet. It’s a gut reaction, you look over towards Finnick’s room. It’s an invasion of privacy.

But there have been plenty of times before where Finnick has come into your space without permission, right? You sigh, kick off your shoes by your door, and then go into Finnick’s room. It’s dark and quiet and smells like perfumed fabric softener. You don’t bother with turning on the lights, Elysia already said that he wasn’t in here.

You make yourself at home, tossing a pillow onto the hammock and using it to support your head and not get your hair stuck in the rope. You stare and watch and wait for a while, playing today over in your head. You don’t think that there’s a single thing you would have done differently. Annie and Marsh were smart to run towards the dam, and Annie knocked out a whole career while she was at it.

However, they also proved that they were a couple to keep an eye on. The girl from One is smart enough to see it like that, to want to go ahead and go after them. On one hand, it’s a good thing that the boys didn’t listen to her. Your tributes are still alive, in a house for the night. But on the other hand, four other tributes died because of it.

But then again, it was only a matter of time. You saw all of their deaths coming, and so did every other mentor in that room. None of you could have known that on the other side of the dam would be a village. What use is it to warn your tributes if they’re just going to be fucked either way?

Oh hey, there’s going to be a cracked dam inside of the arena this year. If you can, I’d probably steer clear of it. The most it seems to provide is a steady stream of water, so at least you have that! Also, I wouldn’t worry much because the dam looked pretty damn small when I got to see it.

What use would that have done? It would have been a fucking culture shock, to think that you’d be ahead of the games for once. Like, “Okay, don’t head toward the dam, use it as a last resort. Worse comes to worse and you can maybe outrun the water.” until you’re face to face with a concrete wall that’s literally a mile taller than you, and the only place to go is a field out in the open and a village that provides the only shelter.

If there was any time to facepalm, it would be now. Hell, even your warning at agility training is going to do fucking nothing. You originally thought that it would come in hand to hop from rock to hill or tree root or something, but that’s going to be hard to do in the grassy field. Yes, let’s hop from grass blade to grass blade.

So fucking stupid, all of this.

You sit there fuming for a little while longer, shaking your head, rolling your eyes and gritting your teeth. You wonder if any of the other mentors have seens something like this before. Wait, that’s stupid. Of course there’s been an arena before this that has been the biggest April fool’s prank of all. Haymitch Abernathy had to live in a hell disguised as a paradise. Yes, you think that might be the worst arena you’ve ever seen. And he had forty-seven other tributes to worry about on top of the killer squirrels.

You snort, but it’s really not all that funny.

The room door opens, you squint just before the lights are flickered on. Finnick stands in the doorway, wearing a white button down shirt and nice black slacks. A part of you wonders where he’s been all night to need to dress as nicely as this. His… job… for the lack of a better word, doesn’t start until after dinner, usually.

And supposedly, he’s been gone all day!

Finnick doesn’t seem to see you at first. You grin to yourself like a child, “Boo.”

He jumps, a startled sound escaping him, it sounds like a yelp. He turns with wide eyes, staring at you. You laugh to yourself, “What the fuck? How long have you been here for?” he presses his hand against his chest, “Gonna give me fucking war flashbacks.”

“Been here since dinner, which was…” you trail off, looking at the time, “About four hours ago, apparently.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like watch the arena?” Finnick slips off his shoes and socks, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

“I did that all day, I actually waited here to tell you that it’s your turn.”

His eyes land on you, “To what?”

“Watch the tributes, sit in the betting room until I relieve you.”

His face twists, “Nice choice of words.”

You roll your eyes, “You owe me this much. I’ll give you a quick rundown about what happened--”

“I already know.”

You throw the pillow at him, “Perfect! You can put your shirt back on and go downstairs!”

He looks at you, “(Y/n), I’m tired.”

“I’ve been up since eight this morning.” you give him a smile, “It’s now nearly midnight. I think you can sit in the betting room for a couple of hours.”

“A couple is two.” Finnick says, “You’re asking me to sit in there for ten.”

“Which is almost half of what I did today! It’s only fair!”

He stares at you. He doesn’t look tired on the outside. In fact, it looks like he just woke up a couple of hours ago. If he were tired, he’d be more sluggish, and you’d know because you’ve been around him for years now. And the last week has shown you what it’s like to actually interact with him when he’s had tough days and nights.

Today is neither of them for him.

“Okay.” Finnick agrees.

“Okay?” you raise your eyebrows, “Sweet. I’ll be up at seven and down there at eight to switch places, then.”

Finnick starts buttoning his shirt back, you give him a cheeky smile, getting off the hammock and heading towards the door. You’re about to leave, but then you stop and turn towards him.

“If I get down there tomorrow morning and you’re nowhere to be seen, you’re not going to like what happens.” there’s no smile, the words are dead cold. Finnick stares at you, fingers frozen in place, “I can promise you that. Goodnight.”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

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#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair ethereal #ethereal #ethereal chapter four

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oxiosa · 3 years

Note

Hi oxi! Thank you so much for all your comments on the fic, they really made my day! I was wondering if you could give me your thoughts on Martín's relationship with Dani and Sebas? What do they do together? What they fight about? Does he approve of their boyfriends/girlfriends? Stuff like that. Thank you!

You are more than welcomed, dear ♥

Martín has definitely assumed the older brother role here (even if technically Dani’s independence dates before his). He was the Viceroyalty in charge of Dani and Sebas back in the colonial era, they were his baby brothers. Sebas and Dani are adults now, yes, but elder brothers will always feels like elder brothers, even when baby brothers no longer are babies.

They “officially” call themselves as “cousins”, but honestly I think they behave more like brothers. They have their arguments and feel like strangling each other every now and then, but heeey that’s what family is like, isn’t it? Martín and Sebas seem more similar at first glance, but let us not forget that Tincho and Dani share 1.690km of border. There is shared culture there too. Argentina and Uruguay’s cultural ties are ridiculously strong, but I don’t want to overlook Argentina’s and Paraguay’s.

I can’t help to think they like to gossip like three old ladies. They like to gather, share some mate and talk about everyone and everything. I hc Martín is particularly nosy, but Dani and Sebas don’t stay far behind. They also like to watch football together, and watch movies (I have this unrelated hc that they like to watch gory horror movies that Dani doesn’t enjoy at all while Martín and Sebas don’t even flinch). I also like the hc that they like to cook together, or at least hang around the kitchen while one of them cooks and the other two rant and steal food.

What do they fight about?

This might be predictable, but I think the main source of their arguments is how headstrong and pushy Martín can be. Tincho tends to act like he knows better than Dani and Sebas (better than everyone tbh), which neither appreciate. I also think Martín tends to get a little caught up in his own head when an idea gets inside his thick skull, and he ends up disregarding other people’s opinions, which is also very annoying – especially when this disregard leads to trouble and Martín oh so happens to have dragged Dani and Sebas along. If only you had listened to them, Tincho B(

I also think that Dani, who is usually very easy-going and easy to get along with, can be very proud and headstrong, so he can switch from an actual cinnamon roll to an immature prideful bastard in the blink of the eye. It is not often, but he then becomes as hard to reason with as Martín, which is not a particularly good combination with Tincho’s own temper. It’s not like they’d actually fight (I don’t think their past allows for conflicts to escalate), but they’ll just buttheads and not back down, and it is tiring to watch. A little ridiculous too. I think Sebas is the more reasonable of the three, and by this I don’t mean he is not stubborn as well but that he’d rather avoid confrontation and just go his way. They are three prideful bastards, they just manifest it differently (with Tincho being the more open about it and Sebas being very good at hiding it).

Do they approve of each other’s bf/gf?

I think Tincho is a bit over protective when it comes to Dani and Sebas – he has assumed the older brother role after all! It’s not that he thinks Sebas and Dani can’t handle themselves or that he considers them two vulnerable naïve virgins whose virtue he must protect, but you better treat them right or he’ll go for your head and won’t bother to make it look like an accident so it can work as warning for future suitors. I don’t think he’d pull scenes, but he’d definitely irradiate “I’m watching you, punk, got my eyes on you” vibes. I don’t think he’s the only protective one though, Dani and Sebas are too in their own way. They simply pose far less than Tincho, they are more chilled about it. I think they’d drop a warning with a very calm unnervingly friendly tone if they think Martín’s date might not be up to anything good, but nothing beyond that.

#Hetalia works with stereotypes and the Argentinean stereotype is the porteño which is why Sebas and Martín are very similar #but I like to add layers to Martín once you get past his cocky front #tbh being nosy and sharing gossip is part of the latino essence if you ask me #sorry this took me a while </3 #latin hetalia

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archived-gtronpa-account · 4 years

Note

cld yu do shiftr!shuichi nd norm sized ouma? hhsjsjx btw i. love yr writing sm...!!!!

Thank you sm hun I'm glad you enjoy my stuff! And you've got such good taste, the world needs more of shifter anxious detective hhehehehhhahaha

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Word count: 1700

Summary: No one else has, but Kokichi is sure he saw something strange about Saihara, and he won't rest until he's proven right or wrong about the oddity.

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He wasn’t as surprised by sudden, uncharacteristic outburst as he was by the fact that Shuichi must have grown a good few inches while he’d been yelling.

Tense, Kokichi let his gaze wander over the class and his classmates. Most seemed discomforted by the usually meek detective’s mood shift, none seemed otherwise bothered by his changing height. Had they not noticed? Kokichi found that hard to believe. He knew to differentiate between his eyes tricking him and truth standing right in front of him; the truth of the moment was that he’d decided to sneak up on the emo boy from behind to scare him, and succeeded so well that instead of being loosely scolded like he’d expected, he’d gotten yelled at more harshly than a parent who’d caught their kid doing drugs. And while scared and angry, Shuichi Saihara had grown at least three inches in height and had been still getting taller.

Kokichi didn’t bother the boy more several days after the uncanny accident. He sat at the back of the classroom like a silent bystander, and watched. He’d heard the boy tell his pianist friend that conducting an investigation was easier when there was an answer to confirm rather than a question to answer. That much was true; it was much easier for Kokichi, since he knew, to catch the signs. Everything made more sense, from the way the ultimate detective hunched over when he felt nervous, to the way he’d straighten up when something made him smile or laugh, yet never seemed any taller or shorter despite the difference in stance.

If it was creepy at first, it became fascinating for the supreme leader to watch over his classmate and understand the logistics of his strange ability. The highlight of Kokichi’s day was to observe the others interact with Shuichi, predict what they would say and how the strange boy would react, and watch as his predictions came true and Shuichi shifted in posture and readjusted his hat; sometimes so large it fell over his eyes and sometimes too small to fit on top of his head. His changes in height seemed to follow his emotions more than his will, and the accident that had occurred between them a few days ago was a testament to that.

When his curiosity grew disproportionate, Kokichi decided to put his newly acquired knowledge to test and challenged himself to make the boy’s height change beyond any possible denial. Either he could slowly befriend Shuichi, make him feel safe and happy in his presence until he loosened up, or he could give him another good scare that would send his head flying to the ceiling. The choice was easily made.

It started slow. First, Kokichi sent a few ominous stares at the detective, which were only met with annoyance and stubborn ignorance. Then came the letters left on his desk; ‘I know your secret,’ ‘Isn’t your hat too small for your head?’ ‘Wanna watch "Honey I shrunk the kids" together?’

Shuichi didn’t come to class for two days after that. When he came back, more distant and avoidant than ever, Kokichi decided to drop the theatrics and catch him in the act as fast as he could before he slipped out of his fingers again.

By late afternoon, when most of their classmates had left, only he and Shuichi stayed in the classroom; the latter waiting for him to leave the room so he could leave safely after. When Kokichi didn’t move from his seat and made it obvious enough he wouldn’t budge, it was Shuichi who quickly gathered his belongings and slunk out of the classroom. Kokichi followed.

The hallways were dark and vacant. Four walls met neatly and threatened to enclose around the taller boy who kept his eyes downcast and pace quick. From behind, Kokichi’s footsteps echoed in the empty space. The tension was palpable and Kokichi relished the feeling, his heart pounding in his chest and blood roaring in his ears. The atmosphere had nothing to envy to a horror or thriller movie. Kokichi was starting to doubt his decision, good thing. If he felt so tense then Shuichi must have been on the verge of breaking out.

Like the most cliché thriller teen movie, Shuichi sped around a corner and tumbled in the boy’s bathroom. What a bad move, Kokichi could’ve almost thought the detective wanted to be caught like that. He seized the opportunity, and took his sweet time to follow after his prey.

Whistling a merry tune, Kokichi skipped over to the only closed stall. He knocked several times, following the rhythm of his tune for added annoyance, but Shuichi didn’t say a word. He could hear rapid breathing beyond the wooden door, and he could already see the tip of a familiar hat poking out from the top.

Kokichi bent down and peeked under the door. “Hey, Saihara? What shoe size do you wear?” He didn’t respond, didn’t move. “I don’t think even my clown shoes could fit you.”

“Kokichi, I don’t know why you’re following me, but please leave me alone.” There it was, the small, wavering voice, begging for him to keep the secret. A grin came over the leader’s face.

“Oh, fine, fine. I'll even do you a favor and tell our classmates how you can totally change height, and then they'll leave you alone, too.”

There was a sputter, the knob moved, and Kokichi backed away just in time for the door to be nearly ripped off. A second too late, and the smaller boy would have been knocked down.

Kokichi scooted back until his back was pressed against a wall, unable to control his fear for a split second. Shuichi emerged from hiding; his head met the ceiling with a thud. He was much taller than anticipated, at least four times as tall as himself. He looked like a real life giant; one that could snatch the smaller leader’s entire leg in a fist. One wrong move could cause the worst accident; one purposeful attack to him could send him to the hospital.

Shuichi gasped and stumbled a few steps back, cornering himself. His hands shot up to head level like some murderer caught red handed, face twisted in fear, and Kokichi was immediately able to push his own fright to the back of his mind, reminding himself of who exactly he was facing. Still, it was easy to remember what kind of person Shuichi was, but it was hard to keep in mind when he was still growing taller by the second.

“Please don’t-” he didn’t even look him in the eyes, instead keeping them shut as he curled in on himself and laced shaky hands over his head for protection. The ceiling whined and cracked, ready to give out at any moment under the inhumane force. Kokichi took a few steps away, staying safe and out of arm’s length of the too large boy. “Don’t freak out- Don’t tell anyone- Please!”

For a second, Kokichi felt like Bill, the lizard from Alice in wonderland. He had to get out; he didn’t want to end up like the lizard from Alice in wonderland.

Thankfully though, his emo Alice wasn’t blocking out the exit with his elbow, and Kokichi was able to slip out of the room in the next second without being stopped. Morbid curiosity kept his feet rooted right at the door, and he listened for the commotion. There was ragged breathing and feverish mumbles, the creaking and cracking got louder and louder till it reached a monstrous, terrifying peak, and Kokichi debated for several moments whether or not he should go back in. But when he was sure he would hear the ceiling fall off and his hand had already grasped and twisted the doorknob, ready to jump in action should he help the other boy get out, the commotion subsided, slow at first, until there was nothing but deafening silence lying beyond the door.

Kokichi’s grip remained tense on the knob. His entire plan had built up to that very moment. He’d made a grandiose mess, but he couldn’t leave without taking at least one last look at it; all villains looked back at their explosion in the climax.

Breath still hitched in his throat, Kokichi pushed the door open and poked his head in. Save for a few cracks on the walls and ceiling, the room looked fine. Shuichi didn’t look as fine; hunched over a sink and eyes glued to his shoes, breathing heavily and body trembling. Taunts easily came to Kokichi’s mind in dozens, but he didn’t have it in him to tease the messy-looking boy anymore at the moment. “Man…” He breathed out.

Shuichi’s eyes snapped to him, wide with fear for a second, until his gaze settled more firmly on the shorter boy’s face. Slowly, his face clenched up in a frown, the deathly pale tint to his cheeks disappeared under bloody crimson. He straightened up, shoulders tense, and breathed in.

“Get out!”

Kokichi didn’t flinch at the screech. That reaction was to be expected. Still, it wasn’t his fault Shuichi was so bad at pushing the reset button to his feelings; Kokichi had just done so at that very moment. Without another word and like a good villain owning up to his evil deed, Kokichi retreated and closed the door. Maybe he should have gone the anticlimactic route and let the boy alone.

#Danganronpa #ndrv3 #gtronpa #gt #Shuichi saihara #Kokichi ouma #sizeshifter!shuichi #shifter!shuichi #giant!shuichi #tiny!kokichi #saiouma #oumasai #request #writing #hi guys this gal again please hold your reqs off until im done with a couple more pretty please

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fandomout · 4 years

Text

Dean Winchester Imagine/Preference - Making up after he left you stranded Part 3

Hope you enjoy! Angst/Fluff.

Part 1 Dean Winchester Imagine/Preference- He leaves you stranded (Gender Neutral Reader)

Part 2 Dean Winchester Imagine/Preference - After he left you stranded (Gender Neutral Reader) Part 2

"Talk." Hearing those words, Dean straightened his posture. He had a sliver of hope until his head went fuzzy. His mind was blank on what to say. He’d only been worrying about you since he woke.

“Wow. I didn’t expect you to let me...I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have driven off like that. Something could have happened. I should have cared.”

“Woulda coulda shoulda.” You snapped at him.

“I know I was wrong okay? You’ve punished me with silence, and-and...” He lost place of what to say.

“You lasted what ten minutes of silence? Was it really that hard? The rest of the time you just didn’t know where I was. I’d hardly consider you were punished enough.”

“I was punished! I was thinking something happened to you! Thinking you were dead!”

“Yeah. Well, let's be honest. The only concern there is that you would blame yourself because you left me!”

“How can you-”

“What else am I supposed to think?!” You feel the heavy feeling spreading through your whole body. As it reaches your head and trickles towards your eyes, you predict the welling of tears. Not wanting him to see you. You muster the last bit of strength in your front to say, “Out.”

“Y/N-”

“Out!” You wheeze. A few tears trickle. You wipe them away quickly. “Please…” Dean looks down defeated and leaves their room not before snatching their key. After closing the door he huffs out in anger and punches and kicks at the wind. He walks back into his room to see Sam just on his computer as usual.

“How’d it go?” Sam asked.

Dean makes an ugly face and mimics Sam, “How’d it go?” He slumps down in a chair across from him, and he kicks at the other chair next to him.

Sam blinks exaggeratingly blank, “Okay then.”

“Sam, what do I do?” Dean crosses his arms, lays his arms on the table, and leans his head inside of them and groans.

“Give them time?”

“No. It’ll only allow them to get angrier with me. I meant what I did was really shitty. I have to do it today.”

“You do that. I think you should at least give it a day, at least. They don’t need you to make them feel worse. They’re sick, Dean. They’ll be more sensitive.” Sam reaches for one of his books to look through, but Dean slams his book down on the table. Sam was ready to get upset when he saw Dean’s sad expression followed by the words, “Help me.”

“Dean, I can’t. They need it to come from you.”

“Sammy, I am asking you for advice. You are in touch with your feelings not to mention they’re one of your best friends.”

“You know just because your dating doesn't mean you're not friends.”

“It’s just different, and I really can’t do this on my own.”

“Just speak from the heart. Practice what you're gonna say?”

“You think if I wrote it down and read it. It could work.”

“Maybe.” Dean searches for pen and paper, and he starts trying to write anything he can think of down. After a minute of trying, he asks Sam, “Will you go check on them? They may not want to see me, but someone should be there.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered. I was gonna bring them some soup and tea. I’m picking up the soup soon.”

“Thank you.”

“Not doing it for you.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”

Sam texted you to open the door as he didn’t want to drop any of the hot items in his possession. You opened the door with a smile.

“Whatcha got there?” You asked.

“Food. Tea. I ended up getting soda too. I forgot what works best.”

“Got any candy?” He snickers at you and responds, “No. You're probably not supposed to have it.” You groaned at him before walking up to the food and tasted it a little cautiously, for it was hot. You let out a satisfying ,”Ah” sound.

“Good?”

“Yeah. It-” Your stomach growls loudly.

“Have you not eaten all day?”

“No. I haven’t felt like it.”

“Is it just because your sick or is it also...you know De-”

“Yes. Now, best friend code. Let's not talk about it. okay?”

“Alright.” You take out the book you and Sam have been reading together, and you look over to see him taking out his copy too.

“What exactly have you been doing all day?”

“Pretty much just sleep and watch tv.” You set down all the food and drinks as best you can on the nightstand, and Sam sits down next to you with a salad in his hand. You both eat while you two read. After about an hour, you say through a stuffy nose, “I’ve had enough reading for now.” You started to shiver and shudder slightly with your eyes drooping.

“Cold?”

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna head to sleep. Hopefully, being unconscious will shield me from the cold and sickness.” You give him a hug and thank him. “Of course...Y/N, I don’t have to go. If you're that cold, come on.” He opened up his arms and motioned for you to get closer.”

“Thank you.” You scoot over and get comfortable in his arms. Suddenly, he asks, “Can I stop you from going for more investigating tomorrow?”

“Nope unless my body stops me.”

“But, if I do it, you’d get upset. Hypocrite.” You laugh a little bit, but it beelines into a sob. You cover your face with your hands and barley mutter, “Don’t look at me,” through hiccups. He reaches forward and brings you into his chest. You hold onto him and just let it all out. You both stay that way until you start to calm down and drift to sleep. When Sam was sure you were out, he let his eyes close and his consciousness go out.

In the morning, Sam stirs awake, and he looks to see you still sleeping soundly in his arms. He carefully moves himself from you and heads out towards his room. He walks in to see Dean ready to go. Dean gives him a once over and simply states, “You slept in bed with them.”

“Yeah. They were all cold. Needed someone. You know how close we are. You know it’s not like that…”

“I know…Just makes me wonder how they didn’t just up and choose to be with you.”

“Dean, we’re friends that-”

“We should get going soon.” As they get to impala, you show up ready. You still look a little sick, but you look and feel better. Dean protests you coming, but you weren't going to listen to him. You pulled questions and researched like any other case. By nightfall, you guys had successfully killed a house full of ghosts. Having finished, Dean kept trying to pick up the courage to talk to you, but your cold front intimidated him. Dean insisted he’d head out for a bit, and he dropped off Sam and you before driving off. Sam and you went to your separate rooms. You were watching tv and just still not in the mood to do much of anything. Not eat, not sleep, not drink. You were feeling chills creep on your again, and cover yourself with your thick blanket. Your phone beeps, and it ignites to you that Sam has texted you, Open the door. You walk over to the door expectant since you had a great time last night; however, you open the door to see Dean with bags full of goods. You take a reluctant look at his smile as it weakens your knees composure from it’s brightness. Then, your memory flashes to the pain he caused, and you find it in yourself to slam the door on him. You're walking back toward your bed when you hear the door unlock. You turn towards the door to see Dean walking in with your key in hand. He just let's himself in and closes the door.

“That’s where my other key went.” You state bitterly.

“Yeah.” He says awkwardly.

“Are you serious?!” You say.

“Look, hear me out. I’ve come prepared for it all. I know I fudged it before, but please give me another chance. I want you to know that I know I was wrong. I should be sorry….I am. I bought stuff for you, I’m sure you’ll want it.” You look at the bag with intrigue. ”You can have them whether you forgive me or not. You can have them whether you hear me out or not. I just hope you give me another chance. Come on, you know I always do better come the second time around.” He nudged your hip with his. You look at him uninspired; however, you took the bags from his hands carefully and put them on the counter. You took out one of the bags of candy and went back over to the bed to wrap the covers around your freezing yet hot body. You looked over to him as he was unsure of what to do with himself. You’d admit he was doing better than last time. His unsure expression was also kinda cute, which didn’t hurt.

“You may proceed.” He walked over to the bed and just stood there, but he wore a smile on his face. In a light tone, he says, "First off. Thank you, baby. I hate the silent treatment. Not being able to talk to you is-”

“Next.” Dean felt his patience wearing thin from the worry that hadn’t been able to be expressed before. He throws his hands up in defense for both of them.

"Alright. Alright. I-I-I think I know what to say. I had it all in here.” He reaches into his pocket frantically, but his face shoots into alarm. He pulls out empty pockets. “Lost my notes, but it’s still in here.” He points to his head. He lets out a breath to try and is about to speak, but no words leave his lips. He smiles sheepishly. He lets out a breathy laugh. “Emphasis on had. But! But…still here goes... Being drunk was not a good choice. Even with all the thought I put into our night, it didn't work out. You were right to be upset for how I acted...just know no matter who I've been with, you're the only one that matters.” You scoff at him. He grimaces by bearing his teeth into this weird smile, but he goes on to say, “I know it contradicts with what I did last night. I was angry and sad...no excuse to leave you. I know that. I was worried sick. If we didn't find you by the end of day, I would have blown chunks just all-'' Knowing he’s starting to ramble, he smiles shyly until he saw an unimpressed expression on your face. ”Right. Throw up is not important. Got it. No need to go into detail. Okay. You were right to want it to be special. You were even-even-even right about the part about being insecure..." The last part caught you attention. Your resolve softening. He noticed it and sat down cautiously with some distance between you two. "I-you know my track recorded dating and sexual records too. I said some stuff last night to throw it in your face."

"I think I noticed." He sees the miniscule quirk of a possible smile and takes it as a green light. He was getting somewhere, and he had to move while they didn't notice. He felt you were too smart to just accept things simply, so he moved up and took your hand.

"Despite how bad the words were-me using them at the time like that, they are technically true. So, you being one of the most important people to me and loving you and other love crap, it hurt that you rejected me like that. You're pretty good with words. I'm not really. Skin to skin affection was like my plane field. The fact that you didn't want me, made me wonder what I'd done wrong. What could I do-I didn't want to lose you...hell if I couldn't do well in what I can do in this relationship, I’d have nothing to give you. You'll realize you should be asking yourself why am I with this sucker? and...and you'll go..." He uses his other hand to rub his face. “I’m sorry...I’m really sorry for all of it…” You use your right arm to reach forward and wrap your arm as best you can around his waist.

"Dean..." With teary eyes, his jaw clenched in trying to keep it together. Softly, almost brokenly, he utters, "I’m sorry, baby." You let out a sigh at the tension of it all. Then, you sit up straighter and brush your thumbs up and down on his face as you say, “I-We-You should tell me that kind of stuff more, so it doesn’t blow up into things like this.” He just nods shamefully at you. “Dean...don’t think so low of yourself. If you're low to yourself, I am too-Then our relationship will actually be on the rocks. You shouldn't-" His head snaps up and he confusingly asks, "Wait, we're not breaking up?"

"No sil-" Dean takes a big scoot forward, grabs, you and hugs you tightly. He pulls back a bit to give you kisses all over his face. With a loud, "Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!” he smiles, and you can only respond with a laugh in between the words, “Stop it.”

“I can't. I'm just happy I haven't lost you.” He goes in for another kissing attack, but you cover his mouth with your hand. A warmth returning in your stomach, and a less weighted down heart. You smile at him widely. He speaks , which gets muffled by your hand, but you swear you hear him say, “Are we getting kinky?” He winked at you. You laughed and slapped his mouth playfully, and it earned you a “Oh!” exclaimed from him. You could feel the smile under your hand.

“No more kisses, you'll get sick.” He removes your hand from his mouth, which you allow. He shrugs and says, “I don't care.”

“I do...Now,“ You reach forward within his right hug and caress both sides of his face. "Back to what I was saying. Do not question my love for you. Your greatness outweigh the bad. You're so sweet. We both have insecurities but it's a matter of being honest about it and dealing with it together. Cleary, I still love you. That being said, I accept your apology. But-” You put a finger to his chest. ”you ever pull shit like that again-"

"Yeah. Yeah. I don't need the warning. Now, let's get to work on getting you better.”

“You’re already making me feel better.” You pinched all of your fingers together and put it to his mouth.

“Ya weirdo.”

“I can’t kiss you, but want to. This should hold us both off.”

“I don’t think so. I won’t get sick.”

“Dean-”

“If I do, my s/o will take care of me.”

“Ugh! I don’t look forward to that. You're a stubborn baby when you're sick.”

“Hey!...” He contemplates before saying, “Fair enough.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Can't I just get one?”

“You already got a few freebies a second ago.”

“What can I say I can’t get enough of you.” He leaned in close and wiggled his eyebrows at you playfully. You laughed out. However, you started to feel weak to resistance. It wasn’t the attempt of sex appeal from him, but it was when he started laughing. His beautiful smirk and smile drew you in, and you launched your body into his, which made him fall back onto the bed. Your lips met his and kissed back passionately. He layed out the candy and junk food he knew you liked. He sat next to you eating happily, which made you brighten up too. You scrolled through the channels and landed on the cars movie. Dean lifts his eyebrow at you. “You’re watching this because?”

“It’s actually a decent movie. I think you’d like it.”

“Just because of cars? I’d hope I’m more than that.” You chuckle and nod. “You want to watch it?”

“Yes please. I’m curious to see how you’ll react.” He nods, and you both lay on the foot of the bed on your stomachs as you watch. He lies close to you and lays his arm on your back tugging you close to him. He smiles, laughs, and tears up as you watch the movie. He looks like a kid. You enjoy watching him more than the movie. In peace, you fall to slumber. Having finished the movie, he looks over to you sleeping soundly. He turns off the tv, and he leans in close wrapping one leg around yours, and he frames your face with his hands. He gently glides his rough hand across your soft features for a minute or so. Then, he gives you one kiss on forehead before he moves his head close to meet foreheads. He keeps watching you. He finds himself softly saying, “I love you” before nuzzling closer and finding sleep with you.

Hope your day got better!

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wolfwhiteflowers · 4 years

Text

10x16+, Connie, and NM thoughts

We got spoilers from DearTVshow about the finale...or ep 16.

So #TWDSpoilers ... about Caryl, *NM*, Connie, etc.!

*pro Caryl post.

ok yeah I have a lot more thoughts from the TWD news and spoilers. okaaay.

So from DTV, the source said Connie is alive but only audience knows and it’s real quick.

--“I’m told that no one knows Connie is alive when the viewers first see her. Also, Carol & Daryl make up, with a hug, but no canon. And New Mexico is mentioned once again.”

--“Caryl has a big reunion hug on par with ‘No Sanctuary’. Daryl asks if her revenge is done. And she says "Well, I’ll never have what I want"

Daryl then says: "You have me...and New Mexico is out there still." And then Carol says “they have some things to do first”

Ok my first thought is that I was surprised to learn Connie was alive and was thinking what are the writers are doing with the Connie/Magna cave plot and what will they do with Connie later on. Long ago, I made a post that I’m like in the middle of what I want with Connie. Still am, I guess, I hope writers write Connie like a Sasha than like a Beth. Sasha is more like a her own character and isn’t propping for a ship. Anyway I hope it means we get more sister bonding with Connie and Kelly. Idk what s11 will be like but just want smart and respectful writing.

So, with that C/M cave plot, it then makes me worried about Magna and other fans are worried about Kelly (kill off sister pairing trope). But in the finale spoilers/pictures, it seems they’re also both safe too! I think so...I think Magna is safe. There’s a promo pic of her after the horde moment. I think that instagram pic from GN of walkers eating a person is Beatrice(Oceanside lady). I think I saw someone pointed out she got the same bright blue shirt on. Anyway, yeah that crazy cave-plot is done with and is dumb. No one died from it..from TWD a horror show lol. It’s all really ends up being a plot to make Caryl/Carol angst, which the s10 is mostly about.

Like I thought, if Connie is alive it would be a short scene based on filming tracking. And therefore it’s a short scene for Connie reveal. I’m surprised only fans will learned about it. Maybe she's at Commonwealth idk and in 10C or s11 the comic plot of Michonne reuniting with her daughter will play out but with Connie and Kelly. I guess that’s what will happen but sigh ..it’s like down playing the comic version. Plus ..they kinda ruin the surprise too..? (Sorry.. it’s just comic Michonne’s story and that plot was everything. But I guess TV Michonne will do something like that too. Whatever.. from the comics it was so meaningful for comic-Michonne!)

Anyway, the more I think about Connie’s alive reveal the more it’s like meh. It’s like writers just...still ..write her like a minor character. Idk if they could’ve done more or not but meh. She’s alive but no one knows...so ... no one cares? We get closures from characters, we get Caryl forgiving each other, but they don’t know about Connie. It’s like it doesn’t matter Connie lives or not, character’s stories are fine. I also think ..to think of s10B of Connie’s story, she doesn’t have that good ending in s10. It’s like half there and meh. Maybe other characters will mention Connie in ep 16, it would be a nice lil wrap up for Connie fans. I’m just saying it’s kinda crap writing for Connie fans. But whatever, she’s alive and there’s 10C. Eh. I hope the real reveal scene on the show will be better..like she’s at Commonwealth so then it’s like moving the plot forward.

ETA. spoiler from instagram, Connie is revealed alive and wakes up and sees Virgil ..in time to save her I guess. That’s it...I guess. I’m glad there’s more to move the plot. But Idk where Virgil and Connie will go to..or when? Maybe they show up in ASZ later. Oh I guess we won’t get mentions of Michonne in ep 16. It would be later I guess when they’re in ASZ to talk about Michonne and the plan on finding Rick. eh wish it was on ep 16. So about Caryl. I'm so glad Caryl will talk it out and he mentions NM! Even when they don't know about Connie being alive. It's a real forgiving scene between them. Someone said that he was mostly upset in 10b because of Carol’s actions and it’s proves..that it is what is about. Seriously s10 is so Caryl - season. Daryl is all about Carol this season. omg. shoo haters. (haters are weird..can they be real and if they don’t like how it’s going ..i mean if it’s me, I would’ve quit the show.) Anyway, I’m like LOL at the haters. I just omg like from the spoilers, Caryl forgave each other, made up, had a great hug, Daryl saying “you have me ..and let’s go to NM.”, all while they think Connie’s dead. sheesh. It really doesn’t look good for DCon shippers. whatever.

I’m curious how the Caryl scene will go and all and how s11 will go. :3 So yeah they got stuff to do first = which makes me think of how s11 is the final season and writers got stuff to do. Wrap up character stories and stuff. Idk what they will do with them and Grimes kids and whatever the main story/Rick’s story will go. Also s11 is a long season and idk what they’ll do. Plus s10C lol. I can’t speculate.

They mentioned NM again! My thoughts on “New Mexico”. Since we learned about the spoilers and the spin-off show, the moment is a clear foreshadowing moment. Like for real, they will run away together. It’s not some end of the series idea wishful hopeful moment. idk the word. Like they’re legit leaving ASZ.

So the more I think about it and I’m just wondering why “New Mexico”? It just seems oddly already answered or so. Like ok here’s a plot and let’s go. I wish there’s some reason or build up to it why NM. Idk. Maybe Daryl will explain more why he wants to go there. I also think, unpopular opinion?, maybe they won’t go to NM but it’s the idea~~ and that NM means they will travel away together. I’m speculating about the overall story of TWD/Rick movies ..., so maybe the writers want Caryl to travel and help out in some way for Rick/’s plan, in the spin-off show. Maybe part of CRM is in like Texas, so Caryl is like well ok we’ll do it, we’ve been wanting to travel so let’s go to Texas. Or, it’s in s11 finale when Idk everyone kinda knows about Rick and CRM situation, maybe like Michonne will say (idk) we need someone to find supporters for Rick against CRM elsewhere-NM or Michonne will say Rick is out there in the west somewhere, we need someone to search for him in the west, Caryl is like let’s go to NM first.

I also wonder how spin-off is the Caryl spin-off show is. Will it only be Caryl-shippy? The Dixons-with Lydia and Dog? or Caryl and Grimes kids too? Caryl and others from s10-not so shippy/drag on slowburn? So far I’m leaning toward Caryl - shippy and (maybe Lydia, Grimes kids and Dog) will be there. I actually want Caryl with Grimes kids and Lydia and Dog. But idk. sigh TWD overall planning there... What about the kids?

Idk. It’s all whatever writers want to do with Rick’s story, s11 and the spinoff show. It’s all hard to predict and kinda hard to not get hopes up ahh. I can kinda imagine Daryl giving Dog to Connie in s11 if Dog is not included in Caryl spin-off show. I think Grimes kids could stay with Maggie, Aaron, or others at Commonwealth or ASZ. Idk about Lydia, maybe she stays in ASZ or Hilltop.

#caryl #twd spoilers #anti d0nnie #twd caryl #caryl and nm #c0nnie twd #*twd #twd speculations

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marlborodean · 3 years

Text

annotation for my "destiel but it's just one direction playlist," mainly for my sister who hasn't seen supernatural but you guys can read it too if you want :^)

DIANA // 4x01, "Lazarus Rising"

this episode introduces Cas :) Castiel speaks Enochian but when he was trying to speak to Dean he was instead causing radio static and shattering windows :) he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition :) he knew all of Dean’s soul just from touching him :) he left his handprint burned into Dean’s skin :)

Notable Lyrics:

how could someone not miss you at all?

i never would mistreat you, no, i’m not a criminal. i speak a different language but I still hear your call

let me be the one to light a fire inside those eyes. you’ve been lonely, you don’t even know me, but I can feel you crying. let me be the one to lift your heart up and save your life. i don’t think you even realize, baby, you’d be saving mine

it’s only been four months but you’ve fallen down so far

i wanna reach out for you, i wanna break these walls

we all need something. if i could hold you, swear i’d never put you down

KISS YOU // 4x07, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester"

the only reason i have for this is the pure tension between Dean and Cas in this ep, which includes Dean staring at Cas's mouth and licking his lips :)

Notable Lyrics:

i just wanna take you anywhere that you like, we could go out any day, any night. i’ll take you there

tell me how to turn your love on. you can get anything that you want

if you want me to, let’s make a move

HEY ANGEL // 4x10, "Heaven and Hell"

in this ep, there is a female angel who is. i mean she’s just there to mirror what Cas will become. she is a fallen angel who rebelled because she fell in love with humanity :) and Cas talks to her, tells her that “for the time, i feel…” later in the show there’s another angel that says Cas’s “true weakness is involved. he’s in love! with humanity" :) also in this ep, the female angel and Dean have sex. clearly if Cas was a woman they would’ve been in a relationship long ago :)

Notable Lyrics:

hey angel, do you look at us and laugh when we hold onto the past? hey angel, tell me, do you ever try to come to the other side?

i wish i could be more like you. do you wish you could be more like me?

i see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed, backseat of my car, in the back of my head

BETTER THAN WORDS // 4x22, "Lucifer Rising"

in this ep, Dean is kept in a beautiful white room (which they call the green room #theatrekidvibes), and everyone understands the tension between Dean and Cas to be needlessly horny :) Cas defies heaven's orders to help Dean :)

Notable Lyrics:

more than a feeling, crazy in love. every time we touch, i’m all shook up. best i ever had, hips don’t lie, you make me wanna—

how deep is your love? god only knows

i don’t know how else to sum it up, there’s no way i can explain your love

everyone tries to see what it feels like, but they’ll never be right

YOU & I // 4x22, "Lucifer Rising"

Castiel literally invented free will. the prophet Chuck couldn’t predict Castiel’s actions :) he said “you guys aren’t in this story!” and Cas replied “we’re making it up as we go” :)

Notable Lyrics:

we can make it ’til the end, nothing can come between you and i. not even the gods above can separate the two of us, nothing can come between you and i. we could make it if we try

EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU // 5x03, "Free to Be You and Me"

in this ep, Castiel thinks he is going to die the next day so Dean takes him out for a fun night :) and Dean says it’s the first time he’s laughed that hard in a long time :)

Notable Lyrics:

you know i’ve always got your back, so let me be the one you come running to. just call my name, i’ll be coming through. on the other side of the world, it don’t matter, i’ll be there in two

there’s something about your laugh that makes me want to have to. there’s nothing funny so we laugh at nothing.

every minute’s like the last so let’s just take it real slow. forget about the clock that’s ticking

you have always been the only one i wanted

i wanted you to know without you i can’t face it

WHY DON'T WE GO THERE // 5x03, "Free to Be You and Me"

same ep, but this is placed here because Dean said to Cas, “there are two things I know for certain. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: you are not gonna die a virgin, not on my watch.” you connect those dots :)

Notable Lyrics:

think about all the places we could go if you five in tonight. just let me set you free

we’ve got all night, and we’re going nowhere. why don’t you stay? why don’t we go there? let’s take a ride out in the cold air, i know the way, why don’t you go there with me?

ONCE IN A LIFETIME // 5x04, "The End"

in this ep, an angel zaps Dean to five years into the future where he meets his future self and future Cas. there was HEAVY subtext that they were together :) at the end of the ep, after he sees his future self die and ultimately destroy the entire world, he is zapped back to present time (where it is safe) and Castiel is there waiting for him at the side of the road in the middle of the night :)

Notable Lyrics:

once in a lifetime, you were mine

when i close my eyes, all the stars align and you are by my side. once in a lifetime, it’s just right. we are always safe, not even the bad guys in the dark night could take it all away

DRAG ME DOWN // 6x20, "The Man Who Would Be King"

this fits anywhere between 4x01 and this ep, which is when. when Dean finds out that Cas had betrayed him and was working alongside the king of hell behind his back :) so as long as this is placed before That Scene, it's fine :)

Notable Lyrics:

i’ve got a fire for a heart, i’m not scared of the dark, you’ve never seen it look so easy. i’ve got a river for a soul, and baby, you’re a boat. baby you’re my only reason

if i didn’t have you, there would be nothing left. the shell of a man that could never be his best. if i didn’t have you, i’d never see the sun

you taught me how to be someone

all my life you stood by me, when no one else was ever behind me. with your love, nobody can drag me down

WOLVES // 6x20, "The Man Who Would Be King"

the war with angels is oncoming, so Cas is trying (trying) to do lots of damage control with that, which means killing angels and demons alike that are after the Winchesters. there's a great scene here :) idk it fits here somehow my brain is too big to be confined by the English language

Notable Lyrics:

in the middle of the night when the wolves come out, they head straight for your heart like a bullet in the dark. one by one, i take them down

i keep on holding tight now, ‘cause your body’s telling me don’t let go

just getting my demons out, wouldn’t ever doubt. your beauty could start a war as you walk in the dining room

i wish it wasn’t true, but the whole world’s trying to get a piece of you, and my heart keeps fighting in this battle of fools

INFINITY // 6x20, "The Man Who Would Be King"

since Cas is trying to prevent the war, much like Aziraphale, he is deemed a failed and fallen angel! :) but then Dean finds out Cas has been working with the king of hell behind his back! :) Cas says "It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?" and Dean replies "I was there. Where were you?" :)

Notable Lyrics:

down to earth, keep on falling when i know it hurts

now i’m one step closer to being two steps from you, when everybody wants you

i was there for you. all i ever wanted was the truth. how many nights have you wished someone would stay?

FOOL'S GOLD // 7x02, "Hello, Cruel World"

i see this as Cas POV as he decides to sacrifice himself and let the Leviathans destroy him, before he leaves Dean ahahaha! i see it in this point in time because Cas loves Dean but assumes Dean doesn't feel the same, but! as we see, Dean keeps Cas's coat (because he loves him)

Notable Lyrics:

i know in my heart, you’re not a constant star. i let you use me from the day that we first met, but I’m not done yet, falling for you. i knew that you turned it on for everyone you’ve met, but i don’t regret falling for you

i know your love’s not real, but that’s not the way it feels. that’s not the way you feel

HALF A HEART // 7x02-7x21

literally every time Cas dies, Dean becomes inconsolable and loses all will to live and succumbs to raging alcoholism :) in season 7, when Cas dies, Dean keeps his jacket. for months. :) also applies to 13x01-13x05

Notable Lyrics:

so your friends [have] been telling me, you’ve been sleeping with my sweater, and that you can’t stop missing me. bet my friends [have] been telling you, i’m not doing much better

i’m missing half of me, and being here without you is like i’m waking up to only half a blue sky. kind of there, but not quite. i’m walking 'round with just one shoe. i’m half a heart without you. i’m half a man at best, with half an arrow in my chest. i miss everything we do. i’m half a heart without you

forget all we said that night, it doesn’t even matter

though i try to get you out of my head, the truth is i got lost without you

GIRL ALMIGHTY // 8x17, "Goodbye Stranger"

very closely tied to the imagery of the episode rather than the story. the bright light as Cas overpowers his brainwashing, Dean kneeling in front of Cas. not to self-promo but watch my Religion AMV to see what i mean!! it's visceral stuff :)

Notable Lyrics:

her light is as loud as many ambulances as it takes to save a savior

am i the only believer? there’s something happening here. i hope you feel what i’m feeling too

i get down on my knees for you

STRONG // 8x17, "Goodbye Stranger"

Castiel has been brainwashed into betraying Dean again, to the point where he was forced to participate in hundreds of simulations where he has to kill Dean :) so when the time comes where he’s told to kill Dean, he suddenly can’t do it :) know why? because Dean tells him “Cas, it’s me. We need you. I need you.” :)

Notable Lyrics:

my hands, your hands, tied up like two ships. my heart, your heart, sit tight like bookends. pages between us written with no end. so many words we’re not saying. don’t wanna wait til it’s gone

i’m sorry if i say ‘i need you’

when i’m not with you, i’m weaker. is that so wrong? is it so wrong that you make me strong?

WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO // 9x03, "I'm No Angel"

Cas loses his grace so now he is human. for some reason i don’t remember, Dean tells him he can’t stay at his place anymore. now Cas is homeless! :) and so Dean regrets it and goes to look for him :) also side note but there is some fan headcanons or theories that Cas had to resort to sex work to make money :/

Notable Lyrics:

counted all my mistakes and there’s only one standing out from the list of the things i’ve done. all the rest of my crimes don’t come close to the look on your face when i let you go.

the taste of your lips on the tip of my tongue is at the top of the list of the things i want

love was something you’ve never heard enough

now i’m searching every lonely place, every corner calling out your name, trying to find you, but i just don’t know. where do broken hearts go?

are you sleeping by yourself? or are you giving it to someone else?

tell me where you go when you feel afraid. tell me, will you ever love me again?

I WANT TO WRITE YOU A SONG // 11x03, "The Bad Seed"

no thoughts only the scene of Dean wrapping a blanket around Cas :)

Notable Lyrics:

i want to write you a song, one that’s beautiful as you are sweet, with just a hint of pain for the feeling that i get when you are gone

i want to lend you my coat, one that’s as soft as your cheek, so when the world is cold, you’ll have a hiding place you can go

everything i need i get from you, giving back is all i wanna do

MOMENTS // 11x23, "Alpha and Omega"

this song is like...every time Dean or Cas is about to sacrifice himself/DIE and they get emotional about it. this is an Exemplary episode that fits well with this song because a) they had time to make this plan, which means they would have time to say goodbyes and be ~intimate~ abt it, and b) the hug towards the end when Cas casually says "I could go with you," offering to DIE alongside Dean :)

Notable Lyrics:

shut the door, turn the light off. i wanna be with you, i wanna feel your love. i wanna lay beside you. i cannot hide this, even though i try.

trembling hands touch skin, it makes this harder. and the tears stream down my face

if we could only have this life for one more day. if we could only turn back time

i’ll be your life, your voice, your reason to be. my love/my heart is breathing for this moment in time. i’ll find the words to say before you leave me today.

don’t wanna be without you

there’s a pile of my clothes at the end of your bed as i feel myself fall, make a joke of it all

NO CONTROL // 12x23, "All Along the Watchtower"

this could honestly go anywhere, but i’m placing it in here in the chronology because it’s Cas charging blindly and headfirst into battle with literal Lucifer to protect Dean :) good moment contextually because before Cas ran away to help this woman give birth, he had a pretty cozy domestic life with Dean :) it's important to note that this does get him killed, which does lead to another grieving wife phase for Dean :)

Notable Lyrics:

beside you i’m a loaded gun. i can’t contain this anymore. i’m all yours, i’ve got no control. powerless, and i don’t care it’s obvious. i just can’t get enough of you. the pedal’s down, my eyes are closed

i don’t want to wash away the night before, and the heat where you laid, i could stay right here and burn in it all day

THROUGH THE DARK // 14x14, "Ouroboros"

this is not about the gay gorgon, folks, it's about the Ma'lak Box. Dean is crushed by the responsibility of having to lock himself in a LITERAL box to prevent Michael (the archangel inside his mind) from taking over

Notable Lyrics:

you tell me that you’re hurt and you’re in pain, and i can see your head is held in shame, but i just wanna see you smile again

i’ll be here for you. i will carry you over fire and water for your love. i will hold you closer, hope your heart is strong enough

i wish that i could take you to the stars. i’d never let you fall and break your heart

you tell me that you hurt, it’s all in vain, but i can see your heart can love again, and i remember you laughing so let’s just laugh again

CHANGE MY MIND // 15x03, "The Rupture"

Dean is being a pissy lil bitch because their child died and Castiel can’t deal with it so he leaves :) there’s a lot of stress in their relationship because they both have horrible communication issues. it boils down to Dean thinking like “i want people to just want to stay instead of leaving. i shouldn’t have to ask for that.” and Cas thinking like “i want people to tell me they want me around. i need that verbalized reassurance.” this is canon :)

Notable Lyrics:

the end of the night, we should say goodbye, but we carry on while everyone’s gone

never felt like this before, are we friends or are we more? as i’m walking towards the door, i’m not sure

if you say you want me to say, i’ll change my mind. ‘cause i don’t wanna know i’m walking away if you’ll be mine. i won’t go

IF I COULD FLY // 15x09, "The Trap"

Dean and Cas have to go to Purgatory to retrieve an Ingredient~ they get separated and the portal is about to close and Dean gets desperate so he gets on his knees and prays to Cas :) closure of 15x03 breakup scene, because Dean says “I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.” :) Dean cries more than one tear, one of his most vulnerable moments in the show (rivaled only by the scene where he tells his mom he hates her). this scene is viewed by many, including jackles, as Dean's love confession especially because he evidently wanted to say something more to Cas's face but Cas cut him off :)

Notable Lyrics:

if i could fly, i’d be coming right back home to you. i think i might give up everything, just ask me to

i hope that you listen, cause i let my guard down. right now i’m completely defenseless

for your eyes only, i’ll show you my heart. i’m missing half of me when we’re apart. now you know me

WALKING IN THE WIND // 15x18, "Despair" and 15x19, "Inherit the Earth"

“Despair” is the episode where Castiel confesses his love too Dean. Dean says “Why does this sound like a goodbye?” and Cas replies “Because it is.” :) reminiscent of the way their son Jack (who is a mirror to Cas) tells Sam and Dean “I'll be in every drop of falling rain, every speck of dust that the wind blows, and in the sand, in the rocks, and the sea.” :)

Notable Lyrics:

if you’re lost, just look for me. you’ll find me in the region of the summer stars

the fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye means we’ve already won

goodbyes are bittersweet, but it’s not the end. i’ll see your face again and you will find me

yesterday i went out to celebrate the birthday of a friend, but as we raised our glasses to make a toast I realized you were missing.

SOMETHING GREAT // 15x18, "Despair"-15x20, "Carry On"

Cas pov for 18 and Dean pov for 20 :) Cas saying "the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have." :) and then Dean missing and wanting Cas back after he died, saying to God, "Cas. You gotta bring him back," yet again falling back into bad alcoholism and depression and suicidal ideation :)

Notable Lyrics:

i want you here with me like how i pictured it, so i don’t have to keep imagining

the script was written…i want to rip it all to shreds and start again. one day i’ll come into your world and get it right

you’re all i want, so much it’s hurting

TRULY MADLY DEEPLY // Post-Canon mwah!

This is what it would have been like for Dean in the version of Supernatural that totally definitely does exist, in which Jack brought Cas back to life and Dean and Cas were reunited and Dean tells Cas he loves him too and then they live a domestic and safe life and Dean is still shocked every morning that he wakes up next to the love of his life :)

Notable Lyrics:

i can’t believe that you are here and lying next to me

like all those days and weeks and months i tried to steal a kiss, and all those sleepless nights and daydreams where i pictured this

somehow you kicked all my walls in, so say you’ll always keep me

should i put coffee and granola on a tray in bed, and wake you up with all the words that i still haven’t said? and tender touches just to show yo how i feel, or should i act so cool like it was no big deal?

#i think my sister is probably asleep right now so i'll update yall on her response later #i'm insane i'm so sorry #ej.pdf #spn #for lisa!

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liron-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Timestamp #1 to Mine to hold

Fake heat

Magnus hasn't felt well since he woke up this morning. His joints are aching, his scars are itching, and he feels sick all over. But there is no use. He planned to paint the nursery a beautiful mint green, and he wants all the fumes to be out of the room when Rafael moves in come Friday.

Their little boy. Magnus can't believe the time has finally come for them to become a family. He's nervous and elated. He manages to push the doubts away. Well, most of the time. That he will raise him together with Alec surely is the only thing that doesn't make him want to revoke the adoption process every six hours or so.

He knows he's ready. He truly is. His therapy sessions have been reduced to once a month. His life is not all rainbows and sunshine, but it is his life—their life—and the ghost of Valentine leaves them alone most of the time.

The media interest has subsided, too, with Magnus' name solely popping up in subordinate clauses whenever there is progress in the legislation regarding the status of omegas in society.

Magnus still loves seeing his name in the papers and signing contracts on his own, every single time shooting a shiver through his body. With the emancipation letter came the option to choose if he wanted to keep Alec's family name or go back to his mother's. The decision-making had blessed him with a few sleepless nights. But when he learnt that future children could carry both their fathers' names, the decision was easily made.

Magnus wipes sweat off his forehead. No one in the northern hemisphere should transpire in February. But he does, from an easy paint job. He feels disgusting and can't wait for the shower he'll take after cleaning up the room.

"Magnus?" Alec's voice comes from the hallway.

"Rafe's room," he shouts and can't suppress a smile.

Rafael Santiago Lightwood-Bane. Not for the first time, tears prick Magnus' eyes from the sheer force of emotions, thinking about his little boy. Or maybe it's hormones? His instincts kicking in? Who knows? He loves Rafe so much already. The now eleven months old orphan had stolen both their hearts the first time they saw him in the orphanage in Buenos Aires. And now, he will find a home with them and with it two fathers who will love him unconditionally.

"Hey," Alec says when he enters the room. "I wanted to help." He presses his lips gently on Magnus'.

"I wanted to surprise you," he replies into the kiss.

Alec smiles at him. "It looks great!" He cups Magnus' neck with his long fingers and his relaxed features morph into a concerned frown. "You feel warm. Are you coming down with something?"

Magnus shrugs and bunches up the plastic sheet that protected the wooden floor. He regards the room that used to be his. Soft light shines through the newly installed window. Magnus can't wait to move the furniture in.

He sways a little when he straightens, and Alec steadies him. "Maybe," he answers morosely. "I'm sweating as if I trained."

"Did you eat something?"

Magnus shakes his head. "I wasn't hungry."

Alec furrows his brow even deeper. Magnus always likes to eat. It's one of his joys after years of starvation and the lack of it a clear sign that something's wrong.

"You smell very sweet today," Alec states and Magnus' eyes shoot up at that.

"No, not again," he whines. "My last was—what?—seven weeks ago? I'm done with these fake heats! And our baby boy comes. There's still so much to do."

Alec pulls him into his arms and guides him to his neck, his scent rising soothingly into Magnus' nose.

"Everything he needs is his Papa and Daddy, our nest, and all the love we can give him. We have enough formula and diapers for a month, the clothes are already washed. The crib and the changing table and all the other stuff can wait."

Magnus nods against his shoulder, thankful for Alec to keep him grounded.

"Come on. Let's get something into your stomach, and then we'll take a shower. What do you say?" Magnus takes a deep breath and nods again.

Alec brings Magnus a protein bar, the only food his mate can really stomach through his fake heats. They had quite a few in the last two years to deal with—never predictable, always a bit frustrating, given that they never turned into a real one, never triggered a heat-rut in Alec. They are a painful reminder of what Magnus has lost, despite all the good things he experienced since he became Alec's omega. At least, the waves are becoming shallow quickly, are easily satiated, and the fake heat usually lasts no longer than two days. Enough time to do the laundry before little Rafe moves in.

Alec undresses Magnus with trained hands. He knows every single of his mate's especially sensitive spots by now and avoids touching them as much as he can. Then he guides him under the shower and smiles when the lukewarm spray from above elicits a soft moan from his omega.

Alec lets his inner alpha run free. By now, he knows that he has a caring wolf that longs to make his mate feel good under any circumstances, but especially in situations like these when Magnus' biology kicks in.

Alec massages shampoo into Magnus' scalp, lathers his body with neutral soap, and presses kisses against his neck, just like Magnus likes it best. He gives himself a quick wash and dries Magnus off with the fluffiest towel they could find in a specialist shop for heat supplies. The scars are much more sensitive during the heats. It had taken them five cycles to find an ointment that numbed the itch enough for Magnus not to want to scratch himself until he draws blood.

Alec leads Magnus to their nest and massages the balm into the sensitive skin. Magnus sighs into the pillows when the numbing and cooling effect sets in. After an obligatory sports drink, they finally cuddle up and take a nap. They'll need the rest for the first wave that is always the hardest.

***

"Alpha."

The sound alarms Alec instantly. It had taken Magnus quite some time to learn that giving in to his inner omega during these fake heats is a sure thing to make the whole ordeal easier. And if his wolf wants to present his belly or his ass and call his alpha just that, so be it.

"I'm here, my little omega," Alec coos.

Magnus' omega loves when Alec talks to him like that, lovingly, not depreciatory. It also likes his strong, sure hands on his body and the relief that comes with his perfect knot. Although Magnus likes these things out of heat, too. But who cares who's in charge now? He hands it over to Alec anyway.

"Need you," he begs shamelessly.

"I'm here, love. How do you want me?"

Magnus rolls on his back with great effort, his whole body aching, his skin dampened with a sheen of sweat. He's thankful that they are still naked from the shower. Waking up like this in his pyjamas is never fun, the wet fabric sticking to the burning skin like glue. Having his heat start in the middle of his shopping, neither. Lucky for Magnus, he doesn't smell like heat for other alphas. Another perk in his book.

Alec smiles at him, and for a long moment, time seems to stand still. Magnus is so in love with the alpha, who treats him like something precious, but never as weak or fragile.

The too-familiar pang of sadness resonates in his chest. Yes, he'll be a father in three days, but he will never grow a baby in his body, will never give birth, or nurse it. Usually, he's fine with it, but never at the beginning of his fake heats. Damn hormones!

Alec crawls between his legs. "Touch or no?"

The two mates are such a well-oiled machine by now and it shows. Magnus assesses the state of his body. He's more sensitive this time, the scar tissue on his abdomen still itching despite the balm.

"No," he says.

Alec nods and shuffles closer, pulling Magnus' butt onto his spread knees. He gives his cock a few strokes to get to full hardness and slides into Magnus with little effort. The miracle of omega biology.

Alec glides in and out of him with as little contact with Magnus' angry red skin as possible. He's a master of it by now. He smiles down at Magnus. "You're so good for me," he whispers and his omega chuckles.

"I'm doing nothing," he jokes and elicits an even wider smile from his alpha. Alec doesn't remember when they had this dialogue for the first time, but it has become a tradition.

"It's getting worse," Magnus hisses, the heat setting his whole body aflame. He hates this. It isn't how a heat should be. Yes, unease is normal, but this simply hurts. There is no passion from his side, no lust or urge to be intimate. They have sex because they know that it will ease the pain. And because they love each other, of course.

Alec could never let Magnus suffer, even though they learnt that the pain would subside on its own even without them having sex—thanks to an impromptu heat when Alec was in Los Angeles for a book reading.

Alec doubles his efforts, and his knot swells soon enough. He takes Magnus' cock into his hand, and after a few strokes, Magnus' body locks up, and he comes all over himself, quickly followed by his alpha.

They come down from their heights rather quickly—Magnus because his skin is still burning despite the fever slowly coming down, Alec because he's already in caring alpha mode again, propping up Magnus' body as best as possible with pillows so that they can stay like this until his knot comes down.

Magnus smiles up at him tiredly. "You're such a good alpha," he praises, and Alec's wolf dances a happy cha-cha-cha in his reptilian brain.

He shakes his head in denial. And yes, Magnus lost many things in his life, fought hard to get some of them back. But this here? Alec? That was simply destiny, and he thanks the angels every day that they brought them together.

Because even through the pain, the fever, and the dizziness, he can feel the love radiating off Alec and through their bond. And it smoothes out the worst edges. Alec's presence doesn't make everything good, but every moment so much better.

"I love you, Alexander," he whispers.

"I love you, too," Alec replies and sends him a kiss through the air that lands like a weightless butterfly on his lips. Magnus closes his eyes, and the last conscious thought he has before he slides into sleep is that fake heats aren't all that bad if you spend them with the man you love.

#malec fandom #malec fic #malec fanfic #malec fanfiction #omegaverse #omega magnus bane #alpha alec lightwood #alpha beta omega #past abuse #infertility #heat

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moonlightserenadeeznutz · 3 years

Note

sirius/regulus relationship before sirius ran away. maybe the conversation he had with regulus trying to get him to come with him too but regulus is too scared.

Thanks for the prompt! It’s a little more angsty than I intended, but I hope you enjoy it!

Request a oneshot here!

~ Sirius had always attempted to be close with Regulus, ever since they were little. He had hoped to have a companion, a friend, a confidante who understand what he was going through. It’s not that Sirius wanted his mother to dislike Regulus the way she disliked him, but she was still cold and distant no matter what, and he wanted to share his feelings with someone who felt the same.

But it soon became clear that Regulus didn’t feel like he did. Or, if Regulus did, he certainly didn’t show it.

They were close as children, before Walburga saw Sirius as a blood traitor, and the two were able to just be brothers. Sirius was the funny one, the one who made Regulus laugh, the one who cracked jokes and fell off his broomstick for a bit of slapstick comedy. Regulus was a solemn child, but not when Sirius was around.

It all changed, however, when Sirius went to Hogwarts. When he met different children, from all different backgrounds and blood statuses. His friends were werewolves, muggleborns, halfbloods, people his mother wouldn’t even let inside the house. He wrote about them to Regulus, in his letters home. The two had been corresponding almost every week, but when Sirius started talking about Lily Evans and how her parents were muggles, or how Remus Lupin spoke Welsh because his muggle mother did too, he noticed that Regulus’s letters started to become fewer and farther between. Until, by the time the summer holidays had rolled around, they had stopped completely.

Sirius went home expecting an explanation as to why Regulus was no longer writing to him. Maybe his owl had got lost, or it had just slipped his mind. But when he returned to Grimmauld Place, Sirius found that it wasn’t just Regulus who wasn’t speaking to him, but his mother too. He was confused at first. He was used to his mother giving him the silent treatment, but there was usually always a reason. This time he couldn’t see the reason.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait too long to find out. Walburga was loud. She could rant for hours and hours, yelling her head off by the end of it, so it wasn’t long before she broke her vow of silence and barged into Sirius’s bedroom, interrogating him about who he’d been mixing with at Hogwarts. He didn’t try to lie. He wasn’t ashamed of his friends. But it turned out he wouldn’t have been able to lie even if he’d wanted, as Walburga started waving pieces of paper in front of his face, which he soon recognised to be the letters he’d sent to Regulus. His heart dropped. Those letters were private. For Regulus’s eyes only. He couldn’t believe his brother had turned him in to Walburga.

But Regulus hadn’t meant to. When Sirius threw open his brother’s bedroom door and asked to know why Regulus had betrayed him, Regulus hurriedly explained that he hadn’t shown Walburga the letters, he’d simply- by accident- mentioned Sirius’s friend Remus at the dinner table, and one thing led to another and before he knew it, Walburga was demanding he show her Sirius’s letters. Sirius struggled to stay angry at him, especially since he didn’t want to leave on bad terms.

“Leave? What do you mean leave?” Asked Regulus, when Sirius brought it up.

“I mean, I’m leaving. I can’t stay here. I hate this place.” Regulus, who had been sitting on his bed, quickly crawled across the sheets to where Sirius was standing, eyes wide.

“You can’t leave! Where are you going to go?”

“The Potters. I’ve told you about James haven’t I? His family’s really nice, and he said they’d allow me to stay if I needed a place.”

“But... but they’re just letters! She only told you off a bit, she does that all the time! You don’t need to leave because of it!”

“It’s not just the letters. I don’t belong here anymore.”

“Yes you do! What about mum? If you leave she’ll take you off the family tree!” Regulus looked almost ready to cry, and it broke Sirius’s heart.

“I think she will anyway, even if I stay. I don’t agree with her views. They’re awful, the things she says. I didn’t realise it before, but now I do. So there’s no point in me staying.” Sirius turned to leave the room. “I’m going to pack my bags.” Regulus predictably ran after him, waiting until they were both behind Sirius’ bedroom door before speaking again, in case Walburga overheard.

“Look,” began Regulus desperately. “I know her views are a little extreme but she’s just... she’s just proud, that’s all.”

“Proud of what? Proud of being so hateful towards everyone?”

“Proud of her heritage, and status. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that is there?”

“So why shouldn’t muggleborns be proud of their heritage then? My friend Remus showed me lots of muggle stuff and they’re great.”

“You’re missing the point. Purebloods are dying out, we have a duty to make sure they don’t.”

“Why? Why don’t we just let them die out? There’s nothing superior about us.” Regulus sighed, as if he was talking to a nuisance child, which was ironic since Sirius was older. Although, Regulus had always had an air of maturity about him, which made it hard to argue with him. Sirius was sure going to try though. “Why don’t you come with me?” Sirius said suddenly, the thought having just popped into his head, but it made him very excited. He grinned at his brother.

“What?” Replied Regulus, looking at him as if he was insane.

“Yeah, we can leave together! Have a better life, away from here! The Potters will understand, they’ll let you stay.”

“I’m not leaving.” Sirius put two hands on Regulus’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to grow up to be like her. We have a choice, we can have a normal life with a normal family. Don’t you want that?”

“Our family is normal.”

“No it’s not. What’s normal about a mother who spends her whole life calling her son a disappointment? I’m sick of it. Why should I allow her to treat me like that?” Sirius went to the side of his bed and slid his school trunk out from under it, placing it on top of the bed covers, slightly more aggressively than he intended. “So, fine. If she’s so convinced I’m a disappointment, maybe I am. I’d rather be a disappointment than someone like her. I have friends. She doesn’t.”

“Stop speaking so hatefully about her, she’s our mum.”

“She can be your mum if you want. She’s not mine anymore, and she’ll be glad of it anyway. She’ll have her golden boy back,” he added with a slight sneer, which made Regulus go from vague desperation to plain anger.

“Fine then. Leave. I don’t care. Maybe if you weren’t so bloody stubborn we could actually be happy. But you’ve ruined everything. So good riddance!” And with that, he stormed out. Leaving Sirius to throw his belongings into his trunk and bite his tongue to stop himself from shouting, or crying. He wasn’t sure which he wanted to do. But at least he knew his mind had been made up. Regulus or no Regulus, he was staying with the Potters. And he’d never step foot in this godawful house ever again.

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platypanthewriter · 4 years

Text

Birdwatching for Dummies 1/3

Reality didn’t work as Billy knew it, in Hawkins.

It wasn’t just that the rich kid whose ass he beat didn’t tell his parents, or that he didn't even seem pissed. Maybe, Billy thought, the head trauma damaged his memory—when Billy cornered him against his locker, he looked blank, then sloooowly nodded, slapping his fist in his hand like he’d come up with the answer to a difficult Jeopardy question. The bell rang then, and he pushed Billy away and walked off, waving over his shoulder.

That wasn’t the only weird thing. There were mass funerals a couple months after they arrived—students, and researchers from the lab, and cops. Then the lady at Radio Shack burst in tears as she rang up Billy’s batteries, telling him her boss was eaten.

She then stared into his eyes, laughing too loudly, and tried to cover with some dumbshit story about how he’d ‘—overeaten, actually,’ leaving Billy adding the two incidents together, and wondering whether his dad had picked the one town in Indiana run by cannibals.

He didn’t spend all his time wondering about Hawkins, obviously—if he was in a horror movie, he’d figure it out eventually—but occasionally something bizarre would happen, and he’d think Hawkins, you fucking ass-end of nowhere bullshit backwater shithole. One night Max got up from the table in the middle of dinner, and he knew—obviously—she wouldn’t get the shit for it that he would, but then she grabbed a huge pair of binoculars that’d been around her neck, hidden by the table, and stared out at the woods.

Neil just stared after her, his fork and knife in mid-air. Susan cleared her throat, hunching her shoulders, and asked, “M-Max, what are you—?”

“Heard there might be a Fulvous Whistling-Duck in the area,” Max said flatly, focusing her binoculars. They thumped lightly against the window. “...or a Western Wood-Pewee.”

Billy wondered whether she was possessed. Or a cannibal.

“I am a birdwatcher, now,” she said, which was honestly weirder, and Billy stared at her along with Susan and his dad. “...I think it could be a Fulvous Whistling-Duck,” she muttered, in the serious tones she usually used to try and keep her mom from interfering between Billy and his dad. He’d never heard her sound that vehement about skateboards, let alone birdwatching.

Billy bit his lips, regarding his meatloaf, but waited to see what his dad would do. Cold meatloaf sounded even worse, he thought, with a stab of annoyance at Max for acting like a freak when it was a pretty okay night otherwise. Neil leaned back in his chair, and everyone tensed at the creak.

“It’s for school,” Max huffed, craning around, and Susan relaxed a little, with a glance at Neil.

She smiled nervously at her plate. “For—for school,” she said, giving a high laugh, like she was a bird herself. “Birds—birds wouldn’t be considerate of, of dinner, would they?” She glanced over at Max, then at Neil again, biting her lips together as she shrank a little into her chair.

“It’s good to see her working diligently,” Neil said, their judge and executioner, and Susan laughed, a breathy sound of relief.

Max lowered the binoculars and walked back over—then stalked right by the table again on the way into the hall. Neil’s tableware froze again, nearly lowered to his meatloaf, and Billy swore internally, listening to his step-sister make a goddamn phone call during the dinner her mother had cooked.

“There’s a Fulvous Whistling-Duck out there,” she told the person on the other end. “No, a Fulvous Whistling-Duck. No, a—no—no, a Fulvous Whistling-Duck. Just come over! Come now. No, the—the big one, moron—didn’t you write them down?! The big one, there is a big one in our woods, and—and smaller—ones—just bring your biggest—goshdarn— ” she hissed,dropping to a whisper, “—binoculars and get your butt over here.” The phone clunked into its cradle.

“...did you invite your friends over?” Neil asked, when she came back in the room to stare through her binoculars again. His voice was levelly amused, but Susan flinched, dropping her fork with a clatter, and apologizing through her fingers.

“Nope,” Max said dryly. “They’ll stay outside. We probably won’t even hear ‘em. They just...want to see the duck.”

“It’s almost dark,” Billy said, finally, since nobody else was going to. Max ignored him.

“Do—do you need to take a picture?” Susan asked softly, like Neil wouldn’t hear. “Do you want my camera?”

“No,” Max said, and Susan flinched. “No, sorry, Mom. I’m just—just making sure I remember enough detail to mark it on my...bird report.” She chewed her lip, shifting her feet, and dashed to the window again.

Billy couldn’t see anything out there.

Billy cleared the table while Susan did the dishes—the perfect ratio, he’d found, of showing her respect without actually taking over a chore he couldn’t even manage to do properly—while Max hovered at the window, squinting into the darkness. She never did eat, which was probably healthier, on the whole, than eating the grayish meatloaf.

He went to his room after and cranked the music up as high as he dared, grabbing a Playboy. When he went to lower the blinds, he saw Steve Harrington’s car in the street, with binoculars pressed against the window.

Where it was parked between the streetlights, it was hard to be sure, but Billy knew his neighbor’s cheapass cars, and Harrington’s BMW stood out. Billy waited for Max to head to her room, and grabbed her, dragging her inside to point. “What the hell is Harrington doing here?!” he hissed, and she yelped so loud they both heard the soft thump of Neil’s recliner in the front room, and the squeak of floorboards as he neared.

Max shoved Billy back as he yanked his hands away, and then Billy’s dad was in the doorway. “You putting your hands on her?” he asked, and Max and Billy both said no, shaking their heads. “...go help your mother,” Neil told her, gently, and she sidled past him, then ran.

“I was just asking if that was her friend outside,” Billy said as Neil turned to survey his room, his gaze taking in the overflowing ashtrays, empty beer cans, and dirty clothes.

“When we married,” Neil said, “—I told Susan I’d keep her little girl safe. Safe and happy. Do you think she’s happy...Billy?”

Billy backed away until his shoulder hit the sash of the window, and jerked his thumb at it, trying to hold Neil’s gaze, and failing. “I was asking a goddamn question, that’s all—”

“Sounded a bit scared, to me,” Neil told him, conversationally. “You scared a little girl. Whatever you’re seeing out the window, that justify that kind of behavior? Billy?”

“No, sir,” Billy said, without meaning to, then, “—she was startled maybe, I didn’t—”

“Why don’t you take a good look,” his dad said next to his ear, pushing him against the window so hard it rattled the glass, “—and tell me what’s out there that’s so...damned... important.” His hand came up Billy’s spine, cupping the back of his head and shoving him harder, so his cheekbone and jaw ached from pressure against the window. His breath obscured the glass.

The stuff Billy wanted to say—that it was stupid, Max pretending she was birdwatching, something else was obviously going on— sat in the back of his throat on a tide of acid, and he swallowed it back, reminding himself that none of that was what his dad wanted to hear. The window creaked with the force of pressure, and Billy’s forehead ached.

His dad’s fingers dug painfully into the thin skin and bones at the base of his skull, and Billy started to cry with impotent fury like a fucking pussy, even as he remembered, his stomach sinking, that Harrington was out there, and he had binoculars too. Neil’s nails ground against his skull, it felt like, and the glass creaked like he was about to go through it face first. With Billy’s eyes full of tears, he couldn’t see whether the binoculars in Harrington’s car were focused on him.

“Is there anything out there that makes this behavior acceptable?” his dad asked, and Billy couldn’t move to shake his head, so he cleared his throat, sniffling.

“No, sir,” he whispered.

“I hope we won’t have to have this talk again,” Neil said, patting his shoulder and walking out, and Billy realized he was just standing there furious and shaking, tears dripping down his face. He yanked the blinds down. The bed thumped into the wall as he dropped down against it to sit on the floor, trying to steady himself with deep breaths, and not scream.

Steve was still outside the next morning, one leg out the window, folded over his side mirror, the other wedged around the steering wheel. Billy did his reps at him, flexing his biceps to remind Harrington that even if he had seen Billy bawling like a tiny fucking child, Billy could still feed him his own fists.

Before Max left, she made her mother promise not to leave the house, not even to hang laundry, with some bogus explanation that the weather had predicted sudden showers of baseball-sized hail. Billy covered his snort.

Max ran out with smuggled pop-tarts—you could tell Susan smelled ‘em, but she wasn’t gonna say anything—and Harrington disentangled himself, rubbed his face, and gave her a ride to school.

It had a Very Hawkins Episode feel to it, but Billy wasn’t gonna ask again.

That afternoon, Harrington was parked outside his house again, but before Billy could stalk out and ask what the everloving fuck, Max brought him inside. He stood smiling around like a moron, and complimented Susan’s ruffled pillow shams. Billy’d never thought much about them, but it touched off a whole explanation of how difficult they’d been to sew.

“I’m so glad to meet your friend!” she told Billy, who bristled, and Harrington shook her hand, introducing himself like he was used to infiltrating random people’s houses.

“I’m Steve Harrington,” he said, beaming at her. “I’m in Billy’s, uh, third period class.”

“He’s here for a project,” said Max, and Billy frowned warily between them.

“Here for that, um,” Steve said, like a genius, and Max glared at him meaningfully. Steve forged ahead. “The uh, the...geology...report. For class.”

“...the geometry test?” Billy offered, unable to take Harrington’s idiocy, whatever else was going on, and Harrington’s eyes widened in alarm as he thought.

“Oh,” he said, frowning at his bag. “Yeeessss?”

“You two can study out here until dinner,” said Max heavily, staring at Billy like she was trying to use the Force on him.

“Will we be in the way, ma’am?” Steve asked Susan, and she smiled back at him, her shoulders relaxing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, a kid’s job is school,” she told him, smiling. “Feel free to use the table—”

At the thought of actually helping Steve Harrington learn Geometry, with witnesses, Billy chose the less infuriating option. “We’ll be in my room,” he said, stomping off, and Max and Steve both said “But—” as Susan said “I’ll bring you some cookies!”

“...she brings you cookies,” said Steve, following him, and Billy held the door open, rolling his eyes. “I want some cookies…” he trailed off, his eyes fixed on the padlock on the outside of Billy’s door, and Billy shoved him inside.

“Last family kept a big dog in here,” he lied, and Steve nodded very slowly, like even he wasn’t that stupid. Billy yanked the door shut and hissed “Why are you here,” as Steve walked over and sat on his bed, bouncing like he was testing it out.

“Uh, birds,” Steve said, squinting like he was trying to remember, and then getting up to pick through Billy’s records.

“Birds,” Billy ground out, his teeth clenched. “You’re gonna watch for birds. From my bedroom.”

“Uh,” Steve said, frowning back at him, like Billy was the one acting weird. “Can’t see ‘em from here, that’s why we were setting up in the front room. This, uh,” he smirked, raising his eyebrows, “—this wasn’t me trying to get in your bedroom, man.”

“Why are you here,” Billy growled, stalking up to him, and Harrington just sat down on the floor, flipping through records like Billy wasn’t standing there, fists clenched.

“Closer to the bathroom,” Steve said, shrugging. He didn’t even look up. “Told your sister I had to piss in a bottle last night, so—” he trailed off, his eyes flicking towards the window, and Billy knew he’d seen.

“Answer the fucking question, Harrington,” he said, bristling, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, you’re gonna kick my ass right here, huh? In your house, while your mom brings us cookies.”

Billy flinched at the thought of what his dad would do if he and Steve Harrington got in a fistfight, and stumbled back. “She’s not my mom,” he hissed, like he was five, and Harrington raised his eyebrows.

“Cookies!” Susan called, knocking on the door, and he heard her rattling around outside. Once she got the door open, she smiled like she was fucking proud of Billy, bringing home a clean-cut kid like Steve Harrington to do homework. Steve brightened at the cookies—and milk, Billy registered, a tray with cookies and milk— with a winning smile, and Susan beamed at them. She surveyed them and waved, pulling the door shut, and Billy flipped the door off, mystified and annoyed.

Billy felt exhausted, suddenly, and he walked over to sit on his bed. “...the fuck do you want,” he bit out at Harrington, just as Max clomped in.

“Mom’s phoning Neil to see if she can invite you to dinner,” she told Steve, who looked delighted.

Billy wondered whether it was meaner to quash his hopes now with the reality of leftover meatloaf, or whether he should wait and watch Steve’s soul be crushed on a voyage of discovery as he bit into thrice-heated rubber tireloaf that night at the table. He kept his mouth shut, raising his eyebrows at Max, who shrugged, grimacing.

“Neil keeps trying to make her cook like his mom,” she whispered, pulling the door shut as she stepped in, and Billy resisted the urge to chase all these invaders out with a broom, like the fucking vermin they were.

“Get the hell out of my room!” he hissed at her, and she ignored him, taking a cookie.

Steve nodded slowly, picking up empty beer cans. “Never met a home-cooked meal I didn’t like,” he said cheerfully, and hucked a can at the trash. “He shoots, he scores!” he stage-whispered, and tossed two more, while Max got through the whole top layer of cookies like goddamn wood chipper.

“I don’t know what the fuck is happening,” Billy hissed, “—but why is it in my room?!”

“We’re, um, birds—” Steve said, frowning like he was trying to remember his stupid lie, and Max groaned.

“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you,” she sighed.

“Yeah, gee, I don’t think you’re really birds at all, goddamn,” Billy snarled. “I’m going for a smoke, don’t break my shit, Harrington—”

“No, no, no!” they both shouted, scrambling to stand between him and the door, and they looked worried, which was weird as hell. Billy began to seriously entertain the cannibals theory, and he wondered whether the cannibalism was scheduled. Whether there were cannibals wandering the woods, and Max had... spotted them somehow.

What made cannibals distinctive, Billy wondered, when they wandered around in the woods? Were there cannibal team colors? He raised his eyebrows as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth.

“I’ll just go with him,” Steve said, waving Max off. “It’s fine, I don’t have my bat, anyway, I’ll grab it from my car.”

“Your fucking what,” Billy asked, as Harrington pushed him outside, and Max chewed her lip some more. Billy waited until they were on the front steps, lit up, and shoved Harrington’s shoulder so hard he staggered. “You fucking told her. Didn’t you.”

“Told her what,” Harrington snorted, looking around, until Billy grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer.

“Told her I was crying like a fucking pussy,” he hissed, blowing smoke in Harrington’s wide brown eyes. “Bawling my fucking eyes out, Harrington, what in the goddamn fuck do you think I mean—”

“I didn’t—” Harrington waved the smoke away, rolling his eyes, and grabbed Billy’s arm, hauling him to the curb. “I didn’t say anything, come on—” he stopped, looking both ways like a little kid, and drug Billy across the street to his car.

“That’s why she’s worried,” Billy told him, half-running behind, “—isn’t it? She thinks I’m gonna break.”

“...are you?” Harrington asked, blinking at him, but it was the first time he’d stopped and listened, his eyes intent, and Billy just stared back, then took a long drag off his cigarette. Steve cocked his head. “What happens then, you just—just go on and beat the shit out’ve somebody?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy muttered, watching Harrington pull a bat full of nails out of the back seat. He wasn’t sure what it would look like, breaking, but it felt like it would be breaking apart, sometimes, like he was fracturing like the old stones in the graveyard, crumbling where the Indiana winter had gotten in their cracks. He’d kicked one over, once, drunk, and it’d fallen into a pile of gravel.

Harrington stared past him at the treeline, spinning the bat around his hand, and Billy told his imagination to shut the hell up. He blew out a cloud of smoke. “There’s something out there, isn’t there. Indiana get...bears?”

“Ohhh,” Harrington grinned at him, and grabbed his wrist, hauling him back towards the house. “That’s closer than I thought you’d get,” he whispered, barely giving Billy time to toss his cigarette before he yanked them both inside. He pulled Billy against him, so Billy wouldn’t bang his shoulder into the door.

It felt weirdly like being friends.

When they made it into Billy’s bedroom again—Steve hauled him the whole way, trying to hold the fucking nailbat out of sight, but also steering Billy around the hall table, and the doorjamb of his room—Steve let go, and Billy stomped over to stare out the window, waiting for his face to cool off. It didn’t make sense to go comparing his dad to the King of Hawkins High, even if his dad would’ve maybe yanked him so his thigh banged into the table, and his shoulder hit the door.

Steve had pushed him around, but like—like a teammate, Billy thought, a little rough, a little protective. His cheeks heated worse, and he stared out at the Harringtonmobile, remembering Steve’s words about attacking somebody. Billy bit his lips together, remembering the night he’d chased Max through the entire fucking town and arrived to see perfect Steve Harrington protecting Billy’s sister from him like Billy was a rabid fucking beast.

He snorted softly.

“Anything out there?” Steve asked, and Billy shook his head. “...there really a test in Geometry?”

“...yep,” Billy said, wishing he still had his cigarette, for something to do with his hands. “And I’m not helping you study.”

“Fine, asshole,” Steve sighed, and Billy heard his bed springs squeak, and the noise of a zipper. He spun around to see Steve opening his backpack, and not his pants, and wondered what the hell had been in his cigarette that he’d even think—

“Ooo, Playboy,” Steve said, realizing part of the mess he was sitting on was a magazine. He flipped it open, and Billy spun back around and leaned his face against the cool glass of the window, wanting to die.

“Don’t jack off on my bed, Harrington,” he hissed—he didn’t mean to, but his voice came out hoarse.

“Why not, nothing else to do,” Steve said, on his bed. “Wanna teach me geometry after all? Nice centerfold.” The bed creaked again, and Steve grunted with a little moan in the back of his throat.

Billy spun around, snarling, and Steve burst out laughing, dropping the magazine on his face and rolling onto his side, shaking with giggles.

“I’m not gonna whip my dick out on your bed, dumbass,” Steve cackled, and Billy growled deep in his throat. Steve was pink-cheeked with laughter, clutching his ribs. Every time he opened his eyes to look at Billy, he laughed harder, and Billy put his fists down, swiveling in place to glare out the window again. His face was as hot as a southern California sidewalk.

“Oooo, mmm,” Steve called. “Oh baby, look at those jugs,” and Billy spun back around and stomped over to murder him, but when he got there he didn’t know what he wanted to do, and Steve scrambled up and away. He caught Billy’s arm and yanked him down face-first on the bed. Billy started to slide off, and Steve shoved him all the way on the bed as Billy tried to figure out what was happening, and then Steve Harrington was sitting on his butt, Billy’s wrists securely in his hands. “Yeah, we’re not doing the concussion thing again,” Steve said, a little darkly, and Billy tried to keep his breathing even.

“Get off me,” he panted.

“Nope,” Steve said cheerfully, and picked up the magazine, lying it across Billy’s back so he could read it and still hold Billy’s wrists. Billy squirmed, rocking them around, and Steve snickered. “You don’t think I’m really gonna let you up, do you?”

“Get off,” Billy hissed, trying to tip Steve over with his hips, and Steve shifted forward to sit on his waist, leaving Billy with a reason to have trouble breathing, at least. His dick was a bar of hot iron against the bed, and Harrington’s ass cheeks were even softer through his shirt than through his jean pockets. Steve’s legs were folded against his sides, his muscular thighs pressed against Billy’s ribs, and Billy’s heart thudded in his chest.

Steve’s fingers lifted from his wrists, flipped a page, and then held him again, warm and a little sweaty. It felt just like when Billy’d yanked him back up on the basketball court, but that had been fast, and Billy’d let go, and Steve’s hands were just holding him. He kicked the mattress, groaning into his comforter.

“I didn’t tell her,” Steve said, suddenly, as he sat on Billy, holding him still while he looked at topless women. “Max. I didn’t say anything.”

Billy took a shuddery breath, his face heating more at the thought that Harrington could feel him shake. He tried to hold his breath, shutting his eyes until his lungs stopped jerking, but Steve leaned forward and brushed the curls off his neck, and Billy let his breath out with a startled wooof.

His scalp tingled as his hair stirred, and he hunched his shoulders, biting his lips together. He clenched his eyes tighter as Steve combed his fingers up through his hair, tangled from the long day, but Steve stopped every time he hit a snag. His fingers were firm, but gentle. “...jesus,” Steve said, slowly. “He bruised you up pretty good. Actually made you bleed,” he said, brushing his fingertips over where Neil’s nails had dug in at the base of Billy’s skull.

“...shut up,” Billy told him, and he could hear the tears in his own voice, thick and soggy-sounding. His eyes were stinging, and he was almost grateful he had his face in a blanket, because it soaked up the evidence. He wasn’t even less turned on, he thought with disgust, apparently just as goddamn horny for Steve’s gentle hands as he was for his muscled thighs. He tried squirming again, just to make it clear he wasn’t into it, and then went perfectly still with a gasp as he nearly came in his pants.

“Sorry,” Steve said, smoothing Billy’s hair back over the marks Neil had left, and Billy nearly laughed aloud, his whole body shaking with tension. His arm was starting to cramp, and he half desperately needed Steve to leave the room, and half wanted him to stay exactly where he was, forever. “Oh,” Steve said then, leaning forward again, his muscled thighs pressing into Billy’s sides.

He tugged at the collar of Billy’s shirt, where it was crooked from Steve slamming him face first onto the bed. “The fuck are you doing,” Billy wheezed, as Steve’s hand smoothed down his spine.

“Don’t freak out,” Steve said, letting go of Billy’s wrists, and Billy just laid there, without being held down, letting Steve Harrington sit on him and straighten his shirt collar.

“Not fucking freaking out,” Billy yelled, his voice muffled, and then he full-body shivered as Harrington laid his hands over Billy’s again, holding them to his back. “Get the hell off, my dad’s gonna—he’s gonna think you’re queer, asshole—”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, and then Billy realized he was shaking with laughter. “The—this isn’t—” Steve snickered, wheezing, “—he does know this isn’t how sex works, right?!”

“...fuck you,” Billy muttered, catching his sniggers. They both laughed for way too long, and then Steve rolled off to lie next to him, and Billy scrambled up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing away, and rubbing his arms.

“That didn’t actually...hurt, right,” Harrington said behind him, and Billy jerked at the sound of his voice.

“No, it didn’t fucking hurt, Harrington. I’m not delicate.” He didn’t turn around, though, because his whole body was radiating heat from the soft brush of Steve’s hand over his hands before letting him go. He was fairly sure if he turned around and saw Steve Harrington in his bed, rumpled from wrestling, his cock would fucking burst through his pants like a Looney Toons characterthrough a wall. He tried to think of unsexy things, like Looney Toons characters, and he wrinkled his nose at the idea of kissing Sylvester the cat.

Then the springs creaked as Harrington sat up, and Billy remembered why he’d let him go—and why he didn’t seem mad about getting beat up, probably—and wanted to punch him again. “...fuck you, Harrington,” he said, going for threatening, but coming off tired.

“What’d I do now?” he asked, and Billy wondered, grimacing, what he’d looked like, crying in the fucking window.

“Shut up,” Billy sighed, then startled as Harrington’s fingers slid up the side of his neck.

“Your ears are all red,” Steve said, sounding entertained, and that was just— great.

“Fuck you,” Billy spat, smacking his hand away, and turning to glare at the most popular boy in school, currently in his bed. “Yeah, you know all about me now, huh?! You know all my shitty secrets, go ahead, tell the fucking world.”

Steve blinked his big, soft brown eyes, looking thoughtful. For a wild second, Billy wondered whether he even remembered seeing Billy and his dad the night before—whether the King of Hawkins High was even capable of remembering Billy Fucking Hargrove, if even a fistfight hadn’t made an impression. Steve cocked his head. “...I’m not gonna...spread rumors about you, jesus.”

“Yeah, you fucking won’t,” Billy hissed. The idea of King Steve not just...feeding Billy his own teeth at the idea of Billy’s eyes on him was...unlikely. “Why the hell are you pretending this is all fine,” Billy hissed, glaring, gathering himself to beat Harrington into oblivion.

“You gonna do something that isn’t?” Steve asked, and Billy took a shaky breath.

“...you already saw what I am,” he laughed, and Steve narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t give a shit what your dad thinks,” he hissed. “You try to hit me again—”

Billy swung his arm out, just to see, and Steve slammed him into the bed again. Billy stared up, panting for no reason. His face was hot.

“You can want me to hold you down all day, I don’t give a shit,” he said, and Billy choked, coughing. “I know what I look like,” Steve said, leaning in, and Billy coughed harder, his eyes watering. “You sure you don’t want me to jack off on your bed?” he whispered in Billy’s ear, and Billy clenched his fingers in his mattress as he recovered his breath, wiping his eyes.

“...the fuck would you wanna give me a show,” Billy whispered, staring at him, and Steve’s grin widened.

“I don’t mind an audience,” he said, settling back against Billy’s pillow, and Billy realized it would smell like him that night.

His cock hadn’t gotten very distracted anyway, hadn’t even made it down to half-mast, and he nearly shut his eyes as it went granite-hard again. He felt the burn of friction from his cheap cotton underwear. “What,” he muttered. “What the fuck.”

“Tell me you got some lotion in this shithole,” Steve said, folding his arm behind his head, and lifting his t-shirt to show a trail of hair leading into his pants, and Billy forgot there was anyone in the world besides him, and the boy on his bed, grinning over.

He turned like a fucking robot and walked over to where all his hair shit was. He grabbed the Avon bottle Susan had bought—she’d been trying to get the Avon lady to leave her alone—and returned like he was on remote control, to slap the bottle into Steve Harrington’s outstretched hand.

Steve hummed, opening the magazine back up—they’d scrunched it, rolling around and laughing—and folding his knees up to lean it against. Billy remembered his door didn’t lock, so he backed away until his shoulder blades thumped into his door. He slid down to sit against it as Steve fucking Harrington punched his blanket into a pile with his pillow, reclined back against them, and unzipped his jeans. He shimmied them down around his hips, shoving his skivvies down over his bony hips, and his cock laid half-hard against his stomach.

Billy swallowed thickly.

“This why you were such a fucking freak in the shower?” Steve asked, and Billy threw an empty beer can at him instinctively, like swatting a fly. Steve laughed as it bounced off his knee, his abs flexing in the light of the window. Billy’d seen him in the showers—he’d barely been able to tear his eyes away, but Harrington knowing he was looking and liking it was a whole different feeling. It had Billy breathless. Steve was going pink too, across his cheeks and ears.

He braced the magazine open against his knees, squirted some lotion into his hand, and slowly rucked his shirt up under his armpits. Billy clenched his fingers in his thighs as Steve stopped, and checked his watch.

“...man up or put your cock away, Harrington,” Billy hissed.

“When’s your dad get home?” Steve asked, and Billy laughed.

“Let a man pick the way he dies, Harrington, jesus.”

Steve looked over, his head cocked. “We should still have a while, though, right? Plenty of time.”

“Depends how good you make it,” Billy told him, his cheeks burning ever harder as he pushed, and pushed, and waited for the boy in his bed to back down, and admit he’d been bluffing. Because Billy was apparently hallucinating, or possibly dead, Steve’s dick hardened visibly at the challenge. Steve shrugged, his dick bobbing. “You want my cock to be your last sight on earth, I can make that happen,” he said, flashing a grin Billy’s way.

Billy bit his lips together, and silently unzipped his fly, letting his eyes flutter shut at the relief of pressure—and then he jerked his head up to watch Steve Harrington. His head thumped the door, and Steve glanced over, smirking.

“Shut up and yank your dick,” Billy growled, and Steve laughed, folding his arm behind his head to look at the magazine. He ran his fingertips over his chest, and down his belly alongside his cock, and Billy threw another empty can at him. “Just do it, what the fuck, you’re such a slut, Harrington!”

Steve burst out laughing with a full belly laugh, his head tipping back so his hair fanned against the sheets. Hopefully Susan and Max thought that was just them fighting, Billy thought, listening. He bit his lips together, hiding whatever sound he’d been about to make, and Steve ran a finger from the base to the tip of his cock. “Can’t believe you just yelled that,” he snickered, grinning.

“Can’t believe you’re doing some kind of— striptease in my bedroom,” Billy hissed back, his cheeks flaming as he watched Steve Harrington rub his thumb over the tip of his dick, then lift away a string of fluid.

“Sometimes you gotta remind people what they’re missing if they, y’know, keep studying, and leave you lonely,” Steve said, staring at the magazine as he finally— finally— slicked up his dick, closing his eyes with a soft groan. The lotion gleamed on his skin.

Billy had a vision of Nancy Wheeler studying until she looked over and saw this, and the jealousy felt like acid inside him. He tried to imagine ignoring him, and laughed. “You been lonely a lot, King Steve?”

“Ha,” Steve said, stroking his cock, and smiling crookedly at the naked woman in the centerfold.

“Jesus,” Billy whispered, imagining his hand, his mouth on Steve’s dick, stretching around the shiny, blood-darkened skin, and Steve flashed him a grin. He was flushed all over, sweating as his back arched, and Billy pressed the heel of his hand against his cock, trying not to squirm.

“Faster,” Billy muttered, as Harrington put on a fucking show, smirking the whole time. At Billy’s voice, his fingers slowed further. He moaned theatrically, trying not to laugh, as he squirmed in Billy’s bed, trailing his fingers over his balls. “Christ, Harrington,” Billy said, punched out of him as he watched the muscles working in Steve’s ass and thighs.

“Patience—patience is a virtue,” Steve panted, sliding both hands over his sweaty abs and then grasping his dick as he grunted, letting his head loll back, his eyes fluttering shut. Billy didn’t even breathe, his whole being focused on Steve Harrington’s hand on his dick as he came over his thumb and belly, stilling for a long second, then relaxed against Billy’s bed with a soft sigh.

“Holy shit,” Billy mumbled, his heart pounding probably harder than Harrington’s had been. He was soaked with sweat. He pressed his cock again, wishing he’d left his pants zipped—he’d done laundry, at least, so his underwear was stretched around his cock and nearly transparent, like a fucking wet t-shirt contest for cocks, but at least Steve didn’t have to look at his dick.

He was still sprawled, the breeze from the window stirring his sweaty hair, and Billy tried not to look as he fumbled around and found the paper towels Susan had brought in with the cookies.

“...gimme some of that milk,” Steve panted, and Billy rolled his eyes and brought it over, not realizing what he would look like, post-orgasmic Steve Harrington, his head tipped back as his throat worked, and a white trickle sliding down his jaw. Billy dropped the paper towels on him, and then went still again as Harrington finished the milk and rolled the cool glass across his flushed chest. “I’m not gonna scream, jesus,” Steve said, snorting a laugh. “I’ve seen cocks before. You never watch porn with anybody?”

Billy snorted so hard he nearly choked. “Seems kinda different, Harrington,” he pointed out. He couldn’t help imagining what Steve wanted, thin shoulders and soft tits, Nancy Wheeler’s, specifically, he was pretty sure, but he was so hard it felt like blood was pounding in his brain. He sat heavily on the bed and reached in his pants, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, and Steve unfolded his long legs so one was behind him, one across his lap.

Billy turned to glare at Harrington, and he was propped up on his elbow, offering the lotion, still covered in his own jizz. He waggled the bottle, raising his eyebrows, and Billy took it, just holding it like a dumbass, because all he could think about was tipping sideways between Steve’s sprawled legs and sucking hickies into his thigh.

Billy wanted to know what his skin tasted like.

“Did you short out?” Steve asked, yawning and rubbing his face. He squirmed, running his hands through his hair, and his whole torso flexed.

Billy squirted lotion in his hand, and they both snickered because it sounded like a series of wet farts. Steve sighed with satisfaction, sprawling back, and Billy slid his hand in his briefs and yanked at his cock, groaning with relief. He was in a hurry, unlike Steve, and it only took a few tugs before he was coming all over his jeans and skivvies. He glanced over to see Harrington watching, his eyes dark and curious.

“...what,” he hissed, and got a crumpled-up paper towel to the head.

“Clean yourself up before Max walks in,” Steve told him with a wide smirk, and Billy half wanted to punch it off his face, and half wanted to kiss it. The bed creaked as Steve lifted his hips, yanking his pants back up. “What the hell did you think I’d told her? Your dad’s an asshole? I mean, she knows, right?”

Billy stilled, his heart juddering like he’d worked it too hard watching Harrington. “What,” he said, buying time. “...how much did you see,” he gritted out.

“I’m not gonna go tell anybody, jesus,” Steve rolled his eyes. “I mean, what the fuck are you gonna say then—tell everybody I did my best pinup thing on your bed? What happens in your bedroom stays in your bedroom, christ.” His ears were getting redder, even as the rest of him cooled off.

“...what,” Billy asked hoarsely, clearing his throat, “—you don’t do that with all the guys?”

“Ha…” Steve said. “...not like that.” He sighed, cocking his head to look at Billy’s back. “I thought he was gonna put your head through the window,” he said, swinging his leg up and over Billy’s head so he could swing them both over the edge of the bed and sit up. “I was looking up and down the street for a phone booth to call an ambulance. I had a rock to throw at the house, distract him, but he left.”

“...he wanted to know what I was looking at. Why I—I yanked Max in here,” Billy said through gritted teeth, remembering how her skinny arm felt in his hand. He didn’t think he’d yanked hard.

Steve cocked his head, watching him. “...and you didn’t just...tell him?”

“The hell was I gonna say?!” Billy snarled at him. “There’s a car outside? I think I recognize it?”

“...sorry for making your life hell,” Steve said, and Billy laughed.

“You didn’t. He’s gotta keep me in check, right, otherwise I attack people.”

“More...hell. Hell...er,” Steve pulled his shirt down finally, considering. “Helly? Hellier? I was about to huck a rock at the side of the house and just run when he came out to see what made the noise,” he said, steepling his fingers like it was a cunning plan, and Billy glanced sideways at him.

“...why?” he asked, snorting a dismissive laugh. “Max said I gave you a goddamn concussion. The fuck do you care if he makes me look out the window.” Harrington opened his mouth, and his hand twitched towards Billy, but he didn’t say anything. “...what the hell are you here for, anyway—” Billy started, remembering why he’d been watching at all.

“No, I think—” Harrington said, at the same time. “I mean, it still matters, right, you’ve got bruises—”

“He doesn’t treat Max like that,” Billy shot back, feeling a little shaky, like he did whenever he had to look at the truth of himself. “I’m a bad seed, right—”

Steve looked confused, but then he shook his head. “M-maybe you are?! But in school when some of the seeds came out, y’know, weird and crooked, we didn’t hit ‘em, that doesn’t help—”

Billy’s eyes went a little blurry with tears—of laughter, because of how stupid that argument was. “Did you fucking...grow little pea plants in plastic cups or something?”

“Yeah,” Steve told him, decisively, like he’d won. Like his dumb pea plant experiment made him the expert on what Billy Hargrove deserved. He glared over as Billy started snickering. “Hey,” he said, narrowing his eyes, and Billy laughed harder, kind of unable to stop. His eyes teared up again, and his hands shook, and Steve’s frown went wide-eyed and uncertain.

The garage door opened.

Billy snorted, wiping his eyes, and getting up to yank his jizz-covered jeans and tighty-whiteys off. He yanked some black silk boxers on—the friction against his dick had been no joke—and realized the only clean jeans were his party pants, years old and strained across his ass and thighs. He squirmed getting them on.

“...dinner and a show, huh?” Steve asked awkwardly, and Billy whipped around to glare at him suspiciously.

“...shut up, you don’t give a crap about my ass,” Billy snorted, and Steve folded his arms, quirking his mouth. His cheeks had gone pink again, and Billy stopped like he’d been turned to stone midmotion. “...holy shit,” he whispered, but then the door from the garage into the house closed, and he listened for his dad’s voice, or nearing footsteps.

“He’ll want dinner,” he said, nearly under his breath as he listened to his dad ask Max whether she was still birdwatching.

“...you have to talk nice to plants,” Steve said, like a moron. “Some of them like music.”

“I’m not a plant,” Billy hissed back, but he couldn’t help a huff of laughter at the idea of him in a little plastic cup, with Steve Harrington playing him Def Leppard and spritzing his head.

Steve grinned at him. “Dinner time?”

“Yeah,” Billy sighed. He was setting his shoulders to leave his room when Steve threw his arm around them, and hauled them both out Billy’s door. He pulled Billy close against his side, so Billy’s shoulder didn’t hit the edge of the doorway, then again when they passed the table in the hall, and Billy tried not to lean into him too much.

Part Two

#Harringrove #Billy Hargrove #steve harrington #Steve Sees Abuse #Steve finds out about Neil Hargrove's A+ parenting #Forced proximity #Enemies to allies to lovers

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