#he’s actually elated to know that he’s screwed up enough to never leave him

[bridgertonbabe]

I’m enjoying this Irwins Au so much

Can you give a glimpse of Irwins Grucy or Lucy with Edmund (i feel like she and Sophie are the most similar and reading Sophie’s made me think of Lucy)

"You could be part of the pack, if you wanted? It’s my family’s ethos to make sure no creature ever gets left behind - and you, Lucy? I’d stay by your side forever if you wanted me to."

Following this offer by Gregory, Lucy intertwined her fingers with his and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, pulling back to regard him with a soft expression and shimmering eyes.

"Having lunch with you is the best part of my day." she admitted.

"Mine too." he squeezed her hand back, his face warming with elation that she felt the same way he felt about her.

"But I'm scared." she swallowed and in spite of her anxiety, she maintained eye contact with him, wanting him to understand her better, for him to know that the issues lay firmly with herself and not at all with him. "I'm scared of getting too attached, of growing too fond of you and ending up left behind and forgotten about."

Gregory clasped her hand tighter in his, regarding her with earnest concern. "Has it happened before?" he asked her delicately.

Lucy gave a timid nod. "Perhaps it was foolish on my part,"

"Whoever has done wrong by you is the foolish one. How anyone could even think of leaving you behind, of ever losing sight of you, of ever forgetting you... they're the fool. Not you, Lucy. Never you."

"But perhaps I was too much for them, or maybe I was not enough," she suggested - even after being screwed over by those who she had been closest to, she still didn't have it in her heart to speak ill of them, still feeling the need to defend them even though deep down she knew none of them would ever jump to her defence.

"Impossible, Luce." Gregory stated firmly. "You are more than enough; you are perfect."

He had said it so simply, without any pretense or side, and Lucy couldn't help herself. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, feeling instantly safe and assured, and when he kissed her back and wrapped his arms around her, for the first time she felt truly loved.

He invited her to his nephew George's first birthday party the following day, a party exclusive to the Bridgerton family, and though Lucy felt out of place at first, it didn't last long.

As soon as she arrived hand in hand with Gregory she was eagerly greeted by Hyacinth St. Clair carrying the birthday boy. Little George was instantly smitten with his uncle's companion, squeaking to get her attention and then giggling and hiding his face in his mother's hair, peeking back at Lucy only to giggle and blush harder.

"Looks like you've got competition, Greg." Michael had laughed and clapped his brother-in-law on the back.

"Yeah, you'd better watch out." Gareth chimed in with a grin. "Your competition's cuter than you and he knows it." he remarked as his baby son batted his eyes and gave Lucy a dimpled smile.

Conversation ended up flowing so naturally between Lucy and all of Gregory's siblings and in-laws, and his various nieces and nephews were all excited to meet her and include her in their games and dancing. The people she had been apprehensive of meeting the most, however, were actually Gregory's parents. Lucy was convinced that if they didn't like and approve of her, then Gregory wouldn't hesitate to chuck her and leave her to the same fate she had grown far too accustomed to.

"They're gonna love you, Luce." Gregory kissed her cheek. "How could they not?"

She met Violet first and much to Lucy's relief Gregory's mother was delighted to meet her, saying how highly her son had spoken of her and how wonderful it was to finally meet her. She reminded Lucy so much of her own mother, a mother she dearly missed, and she and Violet ended up wittering away for a whole hour that flew by without either of the pair realising.

Then, once he had resurfaced from playing with his grandchildren, Edmund Bridgerton appeared and greeted Lucy with the biggest grin.

"And you must be the lovely Lucy!" Edmund boomed, his eyes lit up as soon as he took in the young woman who he knew his youngest son was crazy about. "We've all been dying to meet you!" he enthused in earnest and engulfed her in a big hug. "And from what I've heard about you, you're gonna fit right in."

Lucy had nearly teared up right then and there, to be as automatically accepted by the Bridgertons as she had been was beyond her wildest dreaming.

For the next few months she was showered with nothing but love and fondness from Gregory and his family. His nieces and nephews were always overjoyed to see her, his siblings chatted her ear off at every opportunity, the Bridgerton spouses always swung by to check in on her, Violet constantly invited her over for dinner, and Edmund made sure he stopped by her office everyday to ask after not just the progress in the program she was working on but asking after her and making sure she was alright.

Everything seemed too good to be true - and then Lucy discovered she was pregnant and she freaked out. She and Gregory had barely been together six months and she was terrified the unexpected pregnancy would scare him off, would make him realise she wasn't enough for him and drop her like a hot potato, leaving both her and the baby behind. Gregory was immediately alarmed when he opened the door to her fearful face, pulling her inside and asking her what had happened.

"I'm pregnant." she breathed out, her eyes shaking as she dreaded his rejection - but what she hadn't expected was for him to scarper down the hall and into his bedroom.

She hurried after him, mightily confused, and when she appeared in the doorway of his bedroom he was running back from the open drawer of his desk, tripping over his wastepaper basket in his rush and ending up flat on his face at her feet.

"Greg?" she trembled. "Are you okay? I'm so sor-"

"Marry me!" Gregory had pulled himself up to his knees, opening the velvet box in his hands before quickly realising the ring was hanging upside down and twisting the box round so it was properly presented. "I'm sorry, I should have done this ages ago,"

"What?" Lucy couldn't quite believe what was happening - far from being turned out by him, she was being proposed to?

"I mean we had been together a month when Milo asked when I was going to marry you and I knew right then that I would one day and that same day I went out and bought this so I should have proposed to you then but I didn't want to scare you off but now you're gonna have our baby so of course I want to marry you more than ever before but I've wanted to marry you for the last four months,"

"Gregory!" she exclaimed to bring a stop to his rambling. "You... you want to marry me?" she squeaked. "And... and you're not mad about the baby?"

Confusion marred Gregory's face before he burst into a smile. "Of course I want to marry you, Luce! You make me so happy and the thought of being your husband is so thrilling! But not as thrilling as being the father of your child! I cannot believe I'm so lucky to spend the rest of my - oh shit!" His eyes rounded in panic. "You never actually said yes, did you? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

"Greg," Lucy tried to calm him down.

"No, no, no! Dammit this isn't romantic at all!" Gregory fretted. "It looks like I'm only proposing because you're pregnant - and asking you to marry me right by my dirty washing? God, I'm such an idiot!"

"Greg!" Lucy cried out, grabbing him by the face, her thumbs pressing against his lips to shut him up.

His eyes shone up at hers worriedly and she realised he was now the one afraid of being rejected - he was scared of losing her.

"You are the most romantic person I have ever met." she told him softly. "Everything you've ever said to me, everything you've ever done for me, everything about you, Gregory, is so inherently romantic. I was so scared you wouldn't want me anymore when I told you I was pregnant,"

"Never." Gregory spoke against her thumbs, his eyes wide as her words sunk in, pressing a kiss against the pads of her thumbs to emphasise his point.

"But you, Gregory Bridgerton, are the most wonderful man I've ever met. I love you with my whole heart... and if you'll have me, I'd love nothing more than to be your wife."

Gregory surged up, kissing her passionately, clutching her to him, coveting her dearly, never wanting to let her go -

"Oh shit, wait, here," Gregory drew back, falling to his knees, cursing to himself as he bent one of his knees, making Lucy giggle, and then slipped the ring on her finger, "there." he sighed, kissing her fingers as they both took in the sight of the diamond glimmering on her hand. "I'm sorry, this wasn't how I imagined proposing to you," he began regretfully

"It's perfect." a smile broke out on Lucy's face, one she had managed to contain until now. "You're perfect."

"That would be you, my love." he beamed back and in the next second Lucy had flung herself on him, toppling him over as she kissed him fervently.

Later on at the Bridgerton family dinner, Lucy had been nervous to announce not just their engagement but her pregnancy, worried his family would think they're rushing into things, apprehensive that they could go the distance and that she didn't truly belong - though really, she should have known better at that point.

The Bridgertons cheered ecstatically and were quick to congratulate the happy couple, with Edmund being one of the first to pull Lucy into a hug.

"Welcome to the pack, Lucy." he said - and from that moment forward, Lucy knew she had finally found her people.

[kaepop-trash]

greetings. from where i’m from it’s only as late as the sun rises high. heyo. i am sorry for the gibberish i’m about to say but youu, your blog is a bleeding wound that caused me to wail every full moon. i might’ve been under the influence of legal substances BUT, HOWEVER,.. ect. i would love to request a small drabble for my dear knight who rides the black stallion since the dawn of time Lord Johnny Suh wooooeeeee- “I’m not as think as you drunk I am” + J.S.

love,

drunk anon (if the spot is still available please consider this as my application)

Now, this was so cute I'm literally uwuwuwuwu. I haven't started writing this yes but I have a feeling that this is going to get long. I just love drunk antics as a plot device. You've won my heart drunk anon. You ended up getting a full drabble.

__

Friends to Lovers Trope, Drunk Confession

Summary: Johnny tried not to be obvious, but he had a soft spot for you. Maybe it was the way you used every chance you got to make jokes at his expense. Or maybe it was how you laughed every time he made a joke at your expense. Either way, he tried his best to keep it to himself. So it was really detrimental to his cause that you were currently drunk and telling him that he had beautiful eyes.

__

"You're drunk." Johnny stated, trying and failing to purse his smile at the compliment.

"Never." She shook her head, stopping to hold her head. "Opps dizzy." She winced, quickly recovering just enough to look back up at him.

Her lips split into a dazzling smile and Johnny's heart pounded so fast that he'd give a cocaine addict a run for their money.

"Tolerance of a champ." She pointed at herself.

Johnny hummed skeptically, "You have a whole bar inside you. A horse would be drunk."

"Not me, no." She shook her head again, wincing like she learned nothing from the past attempt. "Not a horse. Just person." She nodded. "Are you drunk?" She questioned, head tilting to the side.

"A little, yeah." He nodded.

"Excellent." She clapped, excited giggles leaving her that made Johnny's brows raise a little. "You're drunk and I'm not." She pointed at him.

"Good job. Should we get you a trophy?" He questioned.

"Should we get you a bucket?" She shot back, bringing up the last time he was extremely drunk.

His lips twitched, "You're impossible." He shook his head with a light laugh.

"And you're intolerable." She mumbled, pouting down at the couch they sat on.

"You tolerate me just fine."

She looked up, brows knitting in focus. Johnny wondered if she was trying to figure out why she did tolerate him. He hoped that the conclusion she came to wasn't to stop.

"It's the eyes." She nodded, confirming whatever internal question she asked herself. "Actually, maybe it's the smile. Your smile does make people go all." She looked down, bringing her hand up to her chest to mimic an explosion.

Johnny sat up, eagerly reaching for a thread that he found thrown at him. "Who people?" He asked, his own chest lighting up in an explosion when she bit her lip.

"You know," She shrugged. "Just persons."

"No, I don't." He shook his head, pausing with a groan when he felt dizzy. "Do you happen to know anyone?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide and lips parted like a fish out of water. Johnny couldn't help the smile spreading on his face, elation filling into every crevice. Then he reminded himself that he needed confirmation. Then he realised that she was drunk.

She huffed, crossing her arms and sitting back. "Don't tease me. You're always teasing me."

"You tease me right back, (Y/N)." He reminded her, an endearing smile growing on his lips.

"Yeah, but. You know." She mumbled.

"No, I don't."

"Then you're an idiot! You're so lucky you have everything else going for you. Because you'd be a little screwed otherwise."

Johnny slid closer towards her, closing the distance she put between them. "Can I tell you a secret?" He whispered, hands reaching for hers. She took in a fragile breath and Johnny told himself that it was the final confirmation he really needed. Now he just wanted her to say it first.

"I think I'm feeling a little," He paused, biting down his embarrassment. Then he reached his free hand up to his chest, to mimic an explosion. "Right now." He squeezed her hand.

Her eyes shifted to something more focused and for a moment Johnny thought this was it. Then she scoffed.

"Are you going to talk about that girl you flirted with today again? I swear to go-"

"No." Johnny cut her off, huffing out his irritation of her ruining what he thought was the perfect moment. "It's you, dumbass. I'm so obvious about it too, always trying to talk to you. I used to think you're not interested. But you're just slow." He shook his head.

"Hey!" She sat up, "How was I supposed to know that your seduction tactics are calling someone the biggest disappointment since microwave meals."

Johnny grinned, "That was funny, you have to admit it."

"I hate you." She groaned, "I can't believe I can never stop thinking about you."

"Well, it's too bad. Because I'm in love with you."

__

Requests Closed

[behindyourbarrette]

Star Light, Star Bright

summary: The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it’s really easy to tell someone how you feel when you’re under a starry night sky. 

pairing: spencer reid/reader

category: fluff, start to finish

warnings/includes: mention of food, a mild burn

work count: 4.1k

a/n: this is my fav thing i’ve written in a HOT SECOND. enjoy! pls reblog if you feel inclined, it helps me out a ton!

check it out on ao3

---

You’ve never found chicken pox to be more of a miracle.

In truth, you are a little saddened that Jack’s Boy Scout troop all got sick and their camping trip had to be postponed. This does not change the fact that you’re elated at the opportunity to nab Hotch’s campsite reservation. The team jumped at the chance for a vacation, the promised long weekend only truly promised in places without cell service.

You pick Spencer up early, the first of many people you’ve offered to drive out to the mountains. After tossing a very heavy-sounding duffel bag into your trunk, he clambers into the passenger seat. He strikes you as a little nervous—he won’t quite look at you as you wind your way out of D.C and towards the countryside.

“I’ve never been camping before, actually.” He says it quietly, mid-conversation about Boy Scouts and the safety of camping with children. There’s a 5-mile radius around Quantico where work is the only thing you can really think about. As you turn onto the highway, hands flexing against the wheel, you’re glad to be free of the office.

“Really? Never?”

It makes sense, the longer his sentence sits on your tongue. Vegas isn’t the most hospitable environment to camp in. You make a mental note to thank your parents for raising you on the East Coast, where the forests are frequent and the soil is actually fertile.

“Yeah. I’m not sure, I’m, uh, really suited for it.” You look at him now, the slight sadness in his eyes, and there are a thousand things you’d like to say. Instead, you reach across the center console, squeezing his hand in yours. Before he can say anything, you’ve returned your hand to the wheel, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

---

You’ve lived in Virginia for a few years, but somehow you’ve never found it this breathtaking. You have no idea how you got roped into driving, given that Derek and Emily usually take the wheel, but you’re far from complaining. As you wind through the forest, the canopy of leaves casting a filter of sunshine over the ground, you’re left speechless. The trees part in favor of the dirt road, and you find yourself absorbed in the surplus of green and foliage as you drive.

“There’s over 15,000 acres of this. It’s the largest protected land preserve in the tri-state area.”

You turn your head to watch Spencer murmur, still absorbed in a book. For the first time, you notice that he’s wearing a polo shirt and a beanie that Penelope knit him for Christmas. The whole sight is so...un-Spencer like that you’re torn between finding it endearing and concerning. You gulp down everything you want to tell him, swallowing all of the unidentifiable feelings in your throat.

“I’m excited. I love camping. My dad used to take me here all the time.” He perks up at this, and closes his book. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You steal a quick glance at the backseat, where Penelope and Derek have fallen asleep.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You have Spencer’s attention now. He nods so vehemently you laugh, tearing your eyes away from his in favor of focusing on the road.

“I wanted to be a park ranger when I was younger.” You’re only a little embarrassed of this; the jump from environmentalist to federal agent is just laughable enough to warm your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widen.

“Really? How did you—I mean, when did you decide to be a—actually, I take it back. Hugging trees is beneficial for your health, after all.” He smirks, and you reach out to punch him on the arm. He rubs the spot absently, a grin forming on his face as your blush deepens. You try to portray yourself to the team as someone who’s a little tougher than the little girl who cried when she found out that people litter in National Parks. With Spencer, it’s different. Still, you can’t bank on what he will or won’t tell Derek.

“If you tell anyone, I will kick your ass. Forget it.” You get the sense that you are not going to live this down. To your advantage, it’s Spencer who blushes this time, his cheeks warming a delicate pink.

“I can’t forget it, actually. I have an eidetic—ow!”

---

The campsite is glorious.

Or, as Penelope would put it, rustic. It’s the perfect happy medium between the forest and the lake nearby, with a trail leading to the beach just a few feet from the site. The trees filter out just enough sun so that it’s pleasantly warm out. There’s ample space for a few tents, and a bear locker. You’re seated at a picnic bench with the girls, unloading the food and cooking supplies as the boys attempt to put together tents. From what you can see and hear, it sounds like Derek is muscling his way through it, much to Spencer and Hotch’s chagrin.

“You’re glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Emily nudges you in the side, a sly smile on her face as she screws the propane line into the campstove. You flush, and shrug your shoulders.

“I love camping. I’m just excited to be here with you guys.”

Penelope reaches across the table to hug you. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: you don’t think you’ve ever seen bedazzled hiking boots before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“You know, I’m surprised Spence came. He normally skips out on these kinds of things.” JJ looks back at you from the bear locker, where she’s stacking cans of soup and Hotch’s cooler. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but you look towards Spencer before she can say anything else. He’s managing to put up his tent surprisingly well; he’s only struggling with the final few posts as he stumbles around the uneven ground. You turn back to JJ, shrugging.

“I mean, I think he can appreciate the outdoors. He’s probably read Walden.”

Emily laughs, and you feel as though the conversation has finally let up. JJ has a point, but as soon as you had asked Spencer if he was coming, he had agreed. He doesn’t look particularly out of place, either. Over the course of the past hour, he’s somehow inherited a pair of sunglasses and a red flannel. You look away, pursing your lips.

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Derek calls, waving his arm to catch your attention. There are now five small tents, only a little crinkled and trampled over. Emily nods in approval, nudging one of them with the tip of her boot. It only shakes a little.

“Good job, guys. They look...structurally sound.” Hands on your hips, you bend to inspect the guys’ handiwork. Spencer winces as you tug on a tent’s zipper, and it whines in protest. You shrug, smiling as you straighten.

“We should check out the lake.” Derek gestures to the blue expanse of water in the distance, and Penelope squeals. You hear the sound of metal clinking together, and turn.

It’s Hotch, holding what you assume to be a fishing pole. While this should be very surprising, you can’t come up with anything funny to say. Emily makes a joke about the catch of the day, and Hotch doesn’t laugh.

“Are there canoes involved? I didn’t bring a suit.” JJ asks, arms crossed over her chest. You nod, pointing to the rental shack on the eastern side of the lake.

“You guys ready to get some sun?”

---

“You look cute in hiking boots, princess.” You should not find this as funny as you do. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek definitely had Penelope apply some sort of oil to his biceps while they were in a tent; there’s no way that he just naturally glistens like that. You squint up at him, shrugging your shoulders. While your outfit is a little unorthodox—you remembered to bring a bikini, but forgot water shoes—it’ll work just fine. Spencer enters your peripheral vision, wrinkling his nose in Derek’s direction. You resist the urge to smile at this.

“Spence.”

You get his attention, catching up to him in just a few steps. The beach is pretty, lacking in sand but perfectly cool and sunny. He’s wearing too-big sunglasses and, surprisingly, Bermuda shorts. You trudge along the rocky path, handing him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come on, I need your help. Sunscreen me.”

He seems shocked, fiddling with the bottle. You turn your back to him, raising your arms as you walk backwards, waiting to hit him before you stop.

“Is sunscreen a verb?” His voice is a little hoarse, and you smirk.

“Would you prefer lotion? Massage?” You tease, and you can practically feel him tense up.

“N-no, I wouldn’t. Hold your hair up.”

You oblige, and it takes everything in you not to sigh as he rubs the cool sunscreen into your back. He has really, really big hands and nimble fingers. Biting your lip, you conjure a mental image of them. You feel a little silly for imagining his hands when he’s right there, but you don’t want him to stop touching you. He coats your skin, movements deft and purposeful. You turn, reaching for the bottle.

“Take off your glasses. Your turn.” You like being a little bossy; he flushes as you reach up to spread the lotion across his cheeks, dabbing gently. He exhales slowly, relaxing into your touch.

“Let’s go. You’re my canoe buddy.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and an evil part of your brain wonders how it would feel to kiss it. The thought is gone before you can act on it, though, and you wave him towards the shore. He stands still, lingering by the campsite.

“I was going to read on the beach, actually—”

“Nope. Come on! I need a partner.”

—-

The lake is cool, and you make yourself busy by being a very unhelpful canoeing partner. Spencer is rowing surprisingly well, scooping water from below and propelling the boat forward. You, on the other hand, are focused on stretching out in the boat. The sun is deliciously warm on your skin, and the occasional splash of water is heaven to the touch.

“You know, there are two sets of oars. We’d get the most momentum if you rowed, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll row. I’m not any good at it, though. That’s why I needed a partner.” You pat him on the shoulder affectionately, reaching for the other oar. The motion tips the canoe forward a little, and panic flashes across Spencer’s face.

“Don’t do that again. I do not want to end up in this lake. Do you know how many bacteria are in most man made lakes? You don’t want to know.”

You are many things, but you are not a quitter. Testing the waters, you lean forward again as you row, a little out of sync with Spencer’s strokes.

“Please don’t capsize,”

Hotch calls out from the shore, and Spencer shoots you a look as if to say listen. You shrug, continuing to row and occasionally shifting your weight. The look on his face is worth it.

“You know how to swim, right?”

You ask, voice low and as inconspicuous as you can manage. This backfires—Spencer turns around to shake his head, unbalancing the boat. He lets go of his oar, tightening the strap on his life vest. You cling to the sides, laughing as you try to steady the canoe.

“Not funny. You know, boating related accidents are incredibly common.”

His voice drifts off as Derek and Emily’s boat passes by. Their sportsmanship is admirable; they’re working as a perfect unit, quickly propelling their canoe forward with quick rowing and a lot of effort.

Spencer is scolding you half-heartedly when you get caught in their wake. You couldn’t have steadied the boat if you tried; and before you can react the canoe is upside down and you’re cast into the cool blue.

“I’m going to contract a brain-eating amoeba.”

Spencer coughs, bobbing to the surface. You emerge a few moments later, laughing, and reach for him.

“Worth it. You have plenty of brains to be eaten, genius.”

You watch him try to contain his smile the entire way to the shore.

---

You’re drying off as the sun sets, splashes of pink and purple coating the sky. It’s incredible; over the lake you can see the entire expanse of fields and forest, laid out like a painting.

“You guys brought food, right?”

Emily calls out from the picnic bench. She’s toweling off, sunglasses in her hair as she jokes with Morgan. You nod, turning back to Spencer.

He’s thoroughly drenched. You feel a little guilty for tipping the boat over; he’s spent a decent amount of time wringing out his clothes, and as night falls a chill builds in the air. After pulling a jacket on, you toss him a towel.

“That was fun.”

Your eyes widen a little, genuine surprise lodging itself in your throat. He takes in the look on your face, smiling lightly.

“Better than reading on the beach?” You offer, but this is too good to be true.

“Marginally.”

You frown, suppressing a smirk as you catch the scent of propane drifting through the air. You both head in the direction of the camp stove, where Hotch is fiddling with the gas tank.

“That looks...unsafe.” Spencer mutters, brow furrowed.

Hotch shoots him a look, and you both back off in favor of finding Morgan and Garcia, who are attempting to start a bonfire.

You don’t expect this to happen.

Spencer is arguably your best friend. He’s been there for you through thick and thin. For better or for worse, you’ve had each other. This trip was supposed to be unifying, and a small part of you had even hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’d give you the bravery to say what you’ve been thinking for a while.

“I cannot believe you intentionally burn your marshmallows.”

Spencer is looking at you like you’ve committed a crime; you are very familiar with this expression, but being on the receiving end of it is new. Thankfully, you’re ready to defend your stance to near-death. A somewhat maniacal grin on your face, you stab another marshmallow onto a skewer and shove it directly into the fire.

“I’m with Pretty Boy on this one. That’s just cruel. It doesn’t even heat it all the way through.” You scowl in Derek’s direction, turning back to your now on-fire marshmallow. You pull it out of the flame, watching it sear as the group murmurs in distaste. It only took three hours to start a fire, and by that time Emily had managed to heat a can of soup on the campstove. Spirits were relatively high, all things considered.

You watch in wonder as the marshmallow curves, melting just how you like it. Before you can stop it, it falls straight down onto your leg.

“Shit. That’s like, on fire.”

You say, your voice rising in pitch and volume as it becomes increasingly clear that not only is the marshmallow very, very hot but it is not coming off. The group springs into unsure action, voices loud and panicked as you push away from both your chair and the fire. The physics of melting sugar be damned, Derek manages to scrape it off with his skewer, and you’re left with a very attractive hole in your pants and a patch of tender skin.

“How do you love camping?” JJ asks, eyes wide as she watches you brush yourself off. Stabbing another marshmallow onto your skewer, you shrug.

“It’s all part of the fun.”

This time, you don’t set your marshmallow on fire. You mimic Spencer, who is carefully rotating his marshmallow. There has to be a system for what he’s doing; he’s laser-focused on the fire, his entire face lit up by the flickering red and orange light. You lean in, and before long you fall into a rhythm of roasting a marshmallow to golden-brown perfection, then pressing it into a graham cracker. Emily is incredible at assembling s’mores, and by time the fire is just a few crackling embers everyone has a little chocolate smeared over their faces.

“I’m really glad we did this.” JJ’s voice is just above a whisper. She’s leaning against Emily, the two of them sharing a blanket as the fire slowly fades. Hotch nods sagely, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s nice. A break. Some fresh air. Trees.” You gesture to the forest around you, unable to contain a sheepish grin. When you look to your right, Spencer’s smiling too. Penelope squeezes your hand. As you watch the last log burn into ash, you wonder how you got so lucky.

---

Later, everyone is too tired to stargaze.

This fact wounds you deeply. Stargazing is your favorite part of camping; there is absolutely nothing that parallels the experience of driving away from the city and looking up into the constellations. To your dismay, everyone is in their tents by the time it’s dark enough to see the winks of light overhead.

You begrudgingly get ready for bed; stepping around the campsite, it’s clear to see that everyone has mostly turned in for the night. Derek and Penelope’s tent is dark. Emily, Hotch, and JJ are all snoring at varying volumes. Spencer’s light is on; you can see his shadow, leaning over to peer at a book. You brush your teeth, swatting bugs away as you stumble towards your tent.

You manage to spend thirty minutes in your tent before you lose your patience. This entire camping trip has been a dream; no work, no cell service, and the people you care about. You’ll be damned if you let it pass you by without checking absolutely everything off your list. You step, a little wobbly, towards the front of your tent. You tug the zipper open, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

On shaking legs, you tug your hiking boots on, the evening cold nipping at your ankles. Despite your attempts to lessen the noise, you watch Spencer’s shadow waver.

“Spence!” You stage-whisper, praying to every deity you can think of that he’s awake and the rest of the team isn’t. To your immediate relief, you watch him tug the zipper of his tent down and emerge, swatting at a few lingering mosquitoes. He looks a little cold; his cheeks are pink and he’s rubbing at his arms. The sight of him in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants is more endearing than you’d expect, and you exhale to clear your head.

“What’s going on?”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and you point to the sky. He takes a cursory glance up, and you watch his jaw fall slack as he takes in the starry skies.

“Come on. We can see better from over there.”

You wave him towards the beach. You know exactly where you’re headed; while you’ve never camped in this specific spot, you know how to reach your favorite place to stargaze. Spencer looks at you with something between curiosity and admiration as you lead the way with a flashlight. The forest is still awake and responsive at this hour, crickets chirping and leaves rustling as you step through the greenery.

You find it quickly; the boardwalk is unmistakable. It’s a field, like the ones you’ve been surrounded by all day. Spencer identifies the leaves as rhubarb plants as you step onto the wooden pathway. While any field would work, this one is ideal; the sky opens up as far as the eye can see, the trees parting to admire the world above.

“Here.” You turn off your flashlight, allowing your eyes to adjust to the low, blue moonlight. Spencer follows you as you crouch, laying with your back to the boardwalk. This is what you came for.

“Oh my God.” Your face splits into a grin once you hear Spencer’s voice, low and gravelly against your ear. The sky above is endless; all you can see is the expanse of the stratosphere, stars bright and darkness vast over your heads. You tear up a little; you always do. It feels like the universe is leaning down to meet you in the middle, pressing its face to yours.

“Tell me what you see. I know that you know what we’re looking at.”

You scoot a little closer, trying to absorb a little of his warmth. Eyes still fixed on the sky, Spencer begins.

“There’s so little light pollution. I...I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” His eyes narrow a little, and you watch as he absorbs the world above him.

“That’s Orion.” He points to a collection of stars to your left, a few brighter than the others.

“Those three in a row, that’s his belt. You might be able to see his bow, too, to the right.

The brightest one is six hundred and forty light years away. Betelgeuse.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and you follow his every word. You can see the warrior above you, the stars winking at you as Spencer describes them.

You fall quiet after a few minutes, and the only sound is that of your slow, synced breaths. You feel as though Spencer has peeled the sky open and revealed it to you; with him, you can see another world entirely.

“We’re looking into the past right now.”

You turn to look at him, a laugh ready to bubble past your lips. You look back up at the sky, where he’s pointed to the Big Dipper.

“That’s Dubhe. We’re seeing light from before we were born.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek and cooling before it reaches your nose. There is so much you would like to tell him before you are both light, visible in this moment from somewhere far away.

As you stare up into the starscape, you gasp. There’s a shooting star, dragging across the Pleiades and heading towards the western skies.

“Make a wish,” You breathe. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out to Spencer, lacing your fingers together. Turning your head, you watch as he grins up at the sky. His features are softer when drenched in moonlight; the slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw all bathed in a dreamy quality.

After the shooting star winks out, trailing across the dark and blinking into nothing, the silence feels heavier.

“What did you wish for?”

You’re sure that he can hear your heartbeat. The steady thrum of your heart against your ribcage is a drum, urging you forward. You watch his brow knit in consideration, before his gaze finally meets yours. His eyes are more hazel than you’ve ever noticed, each fleck of gold striking you as a star.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

His voice is soft, laced with something solemn beneath the surface. You nod, stealing a glance at the sky before you swallow your fear.

"I wished for you." You say quietly.

You don’t know who moves first, only that there’s a brief shuffle before you’re holding each other. He reaches to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your lips. Your hands ghost over his jaw, trailing down his neck as he laces his fingers into your hair. You can’t quite breathe, nor think, only repeat a simple refrain over and over, a prayer passing over your lips and into the dark.

Spencer.

---

The sun rises lazily, pink and orange brushstrokes against a blue sky. You’re awake early—to put it lightly, Spencer’s tent is cramped—and it feels good to breathe in the morning air. The team is still asleep, a few yards away as you stretch and take in the cool dawn.

You think maybe, this is all a dream. You’re not sure how else this would exist, so perfectly and wholly true. The universe is a benevolent thing, after all. There is no other explanation for Spencer Reid, the man the world got right.

“You have pancake batter in your hair,” You say, a little mournfully but still laughing. Still layered in jackets and hats, you feel as though you’re being warmed from the inside out. Spencer’s eyes widen, and he reaches up with a batter-covered hand to feel his hair. You laugh again, a little too loudly this time, and he shushes you between chuckles.

The campstove is quiet, the gas running blue as Spencer flips a pancake over. You neglected to tell him that folding the pancake mix in slowly would prevent...explosions. If you had warned him, you wouldn’t have the chance to kiss the flour off of his face, smiling against his cheeks. With a mittened hand, you brush the powder off of his eyelashes.

“Chocolate chips, right?”

You smile, nodding. He remembers how you like your pancakes. Turning away from him, you rifle through a storage bin for something you packed.

“Are you looking for syrup? It’s over here.” He calls, his voice soft against the hushed sounds of morning. The birds have begun to chirp, calling to each other in alternating duets. You shake your head, and present him with a contraption.

His eyes light up, and he looks at you with something a little wild and entirely resembling devotion. You reveal with your other hand a bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop near your house, grinning up at him.

“I can’t believe you brought me a French press.”

You grin, turning your face as your cheeks burn. Maybe you had hoped this would happen, in slightly different words. After you both tuck into your pancakes, leaning over a plate on the same side of a picnic bench, you watch the sunrise. A bundle of puffy jackets and intertwined hands, you press your back into Spencer’s embrace.

As you watch the moon recede into the horizon, you hope that your past is standing hand and hand, gazing at you fondly.

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

I’d Do Anything For You (a Willex fic)

-

My take on a post-episode 9 reunion between Willie and Alex! Just a warning, there’s more swearing than is canon compliant, and they pseudo-make out a bit. Anyways, hope you enjoy :)

-

Alex didn’t really understand what was happening, but that was nothing new. At least this time it was something good, he knew that much. 

“How… how are your stamps gone?” Julie asked once the group had finally stopped hugging. 

The guys all shrugged. They had the bare minimum of knowledge about Caleb and his stamps, and they definitely didn’t know anything about what caused them to disappear like that. 

Reggie spoke, wiping away any remaining tears. “We don’t know. I mean, I really don’t understand anything about Caleb’s magic. Maybe Willie would know, he’s the one who told us about the stamps in the first place.”

Oh shit, Willie. Alex had been too caught up in his elation of not double-dying to remember that Willie didn’t know they were okay. 

Alex realized that he’d breathed Willie’s name aloud, and now his friends were looking at him expectantly. 

“I, uh… would you guys mind… can I go-”

Luke interrupted Alex’s stammering, “Get outta here and find your boy.”

Alex smiled at them all one more time. “Thank you guys.”

Alex had poofed out onto Hollywood Boulevard, expecting to see Willie skating amidst the lifers. When he doesn’t find him there, he poofs to the beach where he’d hung out with Willie. Once again, there are no ghosts to be found. 

He’s checked the street, the beach, and he doesn’t know where Justin Bieber’s pool is, so he goes to the only other place he can think of where Willie might be- the museum. As he stands in front of the closed doors, preparing to poof in, Alex tries not to think about the very likely possibility that Willie is somewhere else completely- at the Hollywood Ghost Club, being tortured by Caleb for helping Alex and the band. 

No, he tells himself, you’re okay, and that means he’s okay. He’ll be here. 

Alex doesn’t mean to, but he transports himself to the exact spot where he and Willie had been before, the stone bench still sitting where they had moved it together. It only takes him a second to adjust to the new location before he notices that he isn’t alone. 

Willie has his back to Alex, and just like the last time they were here, Willie is screaming. It’s a much different sound this time, though. The yells are anguished, and based on the way the other boy is shaking, Alex thinks there must be sobs mixed in with the screams. Willie is kicking the bench furiously, and Alex can hear him cursing under his breath. 

Alex is so taken aback by the scene that he doesn’t do anything at first. But soon the part of him that is screaming at him that if he sees Willie like this for one more moment his heart will literally break takes over. 

  “Willie?” He says it softly, barely more than a whisper.

The ghost turns around, shock painted on his face.

“Alex…”

Alex doesn’t process what’s happening, but the next thing he knows, Willie’s arms are around around him, holding him tight. Alex relaxes into the hug, letting his head fall on Willie’s shoulder.

“Holy shit, I thought I’d lost you.” Willie mumbles into Alex’s ear. 

Alex pulls away slightly, just enough so he can look into Willie’s eyes. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Willie laughs slightly, though the sound is thick with tears. “What happened? Why didn’t you cross over? Shit, are you still having jolts? Are you going to fade-”

“Woah, who’s the one with questions now?!” Alex puts his hand on Willie’s shoulder, squeezing a bit in an attempt to calm him down. “I’m okay. We played the Orpheum, but didn’t cross over. Apparently that wasn’t our unfinished business. And… well we almost faded away, but we’re fine now! Julie saved us, somehow. I still don’t really get how. But look, my stamp is gone.” Alex rolls up the sleeve of Caleb’s suit that he’s still wearing to prove it to Willie.

“Oh my god, it’s actually gone.” Willie whispers, running his fingers over the spot on Alex’s wrist that had previously been marked with the bright purple stamp. Alex gulps and tries to ignore how Willie’s touch sends shivers through his body. “That’s never happened before.” 

“Oh. Huh. Well, the guys were hoping you knew what caused them to disappear, but I guess that’s not the case…”

“Nope, sorry man. Do you have any idea what it could be?”

Alex racked his brain, trying to remember what happened in those last few moments of blinding jolt-induced pain. “I dunno. I think… I think Julie said she loved us, though. And then she was able to touch us, and we all hugged, and the stamps just… floated away.”

Willie blinked, looking taken aback. “Okay, I’m not going to focus on the part where a lifer can touch you… but maybe love has something to do with getting rid of Caleb’s curse? I mean, it would make sense. I’ve spent decades with Caleb, the guy doesn’t even know the meaning of the word love.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Alex scratched at the back of his head awkwardly, unsure what to do. If Willie was right, does that mean Alex had a chance to free him? As much as Alex had spent the time where he thought he was going to disappear forever thinking about how he wanted to tell Willie how he felt about him, now that he had a chance to, it was a terrifying thing to think about doing. 

Alex realized that Willie had stopped looking at him, and was blinking ferociously. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Huh?” Willie looked up at him. “Oh, yeah, I just…” He trailed off, but after taking a deep breath, he looked Alex in the eyes and continued speaking.

“I thought I was never going to see you again. Even if you’d crossed over, which obviously I wanted you to, but if you had I still wouldn’t have been able to follow you. And if you had disappeared completely… I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. And god, Alex, you nearly did. All because of me.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Alex assures him. “I told you, I don’t blame you for what you did. You didn’t have a choice.”

“Still, I.. I thought you were going to leave me before I even got to tell you how I feel.” Willie bit his lip slightly, not looking at Alex. 

If Alex had a heart, it would have leapt into his throat. “How you... feel?”

Willie nodded. “... about you.” He locked eyes with Alex again, an intensity in his hazel eyes. 

Alex was frozen, unsure what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but Alex had never really been one to act impulsively, no matter how much he wanted to. What if he was wrong about what Willie meant? Maybe… maybe Willie was just a very affectionate person! Maybe he just meant he felt that Alex was cool guy. Or... or something. 

Alex could hear his friend’s voices in his head, telling him how much of an idiot he was being. Dude, he obviously likes you. We both saw that hug, not to mention the way he looked at you that night at Caleb’s. He really wanted to believe them. 

Alex broke eye contact briefly, his eyes flickering to Willie’s lips, which were parted slightly open in confusion. He realized how long it had been since either of them had spoken. 

“Alex?” Willie finally spoke, his voice soft and full of concern and curiosity. 

Screw it.

Alex kissed him. 

For a fraction of a second, Willie didn’t kiss him back and Alex’s fears came back worse than ever before. But then he felt Willie’s arms wrap around him and pull him closer to him, and his fears- along with any other coherent thoughts- were gone. All he could think about was Willie, the way his hair felt tangled in Alex’s fingers, the way he tasted of smoke and peppermint, Willie, the way one of his hands had moved to cradle Alex’s face, the way he murmured Alex’s name as he pulled back slightly for air… Willie.

The two eventually pulled apart, and Alex felt like crying tears of joy at how beautiful Willie looked, face flushed a deep red and hair mussed.

Without think, Alex said in a rush, “I think I’m in love with you.”

God fucking damnit, Alex. 

His eyes widened in fear, preparing to poof away and never show his face to Willie ever again. But Alex realized Willie wasn’t looking at him, instead he was looking down at his own wrist, where a purple stamp was floating off his skin and into the air around them. 

“Holy shit…” Willie whispered. He looked up at Alex in disbelief, eyes shining. “I guess I was right about the love thing.”

Willie continued to beam at Alex, but Alex couldn’t find it in him to respond, still mortified from his blurted love confession. He meant it, of course, but he hadn’t planned on saying it to Willie for a very long time, if ever.   

Finally he said something. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment or anything, I just-”

“Sorry?! Alex, you just saved me! I’ve been under Caleb’s curse for years, and you just came along and freed me. I mean, what could I ever do to thank you enough?”

“Oh. Cool.” Alex looked at Willie in relief. “You could kiss me again, for starters.” 

Wille broke into his gorgeous smile, melting Alex’s heart in the process. “You don’t need to tell me twice.” He threw his arms around Alex and laughed, kissing him. 

“Oh and by the way…” He muttered against Alex’s lips. “I love you too, Hotdog.” 

[mourntheantagonist]

Have it Your Way

HWOL Day 2 Prompt: Overstimulation

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.2k

warnings for referenced underage sex with adults and homophobic language

read on ao3

Billy was always seeking out just a fast and easy release. A quick fuck in an alley outside or blowjobs in the bathroom stalls with whatever guy was eyeing him at the other side of the bar. Usually just two closet cases out for the night to earn the sweet release they were desperate for before they performed the same walk of shame back to their shitty lives in their heteronormative world, hitting on girls and becoming overcompensating womanizers.

At least that was the case for Billy Hargrove. Forgoing feelings and foreplay for the feeling of a cock in his ass as he’s fucked senselessly into a brick wall next to trash filled dumpsters, but only smelling the rich scent of cheap cologne and sweat. A much preferred alternative to the delicate fragrances and cleanliness he was supposed to enjoy. The perfume that always made the dissociation and imagination wear off when he was fucking girls at parties in the host’s parents bedroom, making sure partygoers heard the moans and groans to keep up appearances. Have a reputation like Billy’s and nobody would ever question his early departures. Nobody ever knew what he did for the after party.

California was easy. Getting his hands on a guy who just wanted to fuck was as simple as walking three miles to whatever run down gaybar that would let the pretty underaged boy in through the doors with just the flash of his devilish smile. He never walked home empty handed, just the signature limp of someone who took it a little too rough that night. Men twice his age were always buying him drinks and flirting with him at the bar, he could have anyone he damn well pleased. It was easy, simple, and honestly super fucking convenient. Free booze followed by a no strings attached hook-up with his pick of the litter. No names were exchanged, rarely even words at all. Just telling movements of the eyes and sounds of heavy breathing and moaning that echoed alongside others who found their way into the men’s room. Two, or even three pairs of feet seen underneath the gap of each stall. Panting and releasing expletives as the doors rattled from bodys that were slammed against locked doors.

California was easy.

Indiana was not.

Especially not Hawkins of all places. One bar in the entire town that was most certainly not his kind of bar. No clubs no anything. Release wasn’t three miles away anymore, it was a hundred miles away. But that was Neil’s plan all along wasn’t it? Drag his no good queer son across the country to the most conservative town he could find on the map, where if there even were gay people around they were so far deep into the closet they couldn’t even see daylight.

But there had to be somebody right? There had to be someone. Else Billy might completely explode. Already beginning his reputation building by fucking the first girl who showed interest in the backseat of the Camaro in the school parking lot. With no quickie in a back alley to follow it up, he was left keyed up and desperate and his hand and a mag could only do so much before he completely lost his mind.

Especially when people like Steve fucking Harrington existed. Back in California he never let himself look at another classmate like that. They were off limits. He had the means he needed there and didn’t need to steal looks in the showers or get a little too handsy during gym. But that’s all he’s got. All he had was the glorious feeling of his dick rubbing up against Steve’s ass in tight green shorts as he boxed him out, and the stolen glances of his soft dick as water cascaded down his body and dripped from the tip. Manifesting his entire will to keep his dick down and tamed while he burned the whole sight into his long term memory. Saving it for his sock later.

Billy was correct to assume Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t like California. It was quiet and quaint, but he was wrong to assume he’d entered the land of purity. Small town folks were just as freaky as the people living it up in the city, they were just more quiet about it. Playing the long game to pick up on certain traits and actions before making a move because house parties weren’t gay bars where everyone was already on the same page. It was a game of needle in a haystack. And Billy guesses he finally put out enough clues to be found.

By Steve fucking Harrington of all people.

What Billy didn’t yet realize when he was cornered into an empty bedroom at some random junior house party was that Steve may have found his needle in a haystack, but Billy, he had struck gold.

The door was slammed closed by the force of Billy’s weight as Steve gripped the collar of his shirt and pushed him back against it. Lips slamming into his with bruise inducing force that had Billy almost sinking to the floor. Breath caught in his throat and his only reaction was to pull Steve’s body in closer by the tug of his belt loops so he could feel the dick he so perfectly memorized pressed up against his own through multiple layers of clothing. His jeans were already growing tighter and it hadn’t even been a minute.

How was he already this damn hard?

And now Steve had felt it and it was his own damn fault that he did.

“Already huh?”

Instead of trying to hide it, he just pulls his hips even closer and jerks his pelvis forward against Steve’s. Snaking a hand around to grab at Steve’s ass through his jeans, imagining he was wearing those same little green shorts he wore during P.E.

“Are we gonna do this or not?” Billy asked, in a deep and husky voice, noses nearly touching, eyes half lidded.

“Oh we’re doing this, but we’re doing this my way.”

His way? Well count Billy as intrigued.

“I’m versatile if that’s what you want to know.”

Steve huffed out a laugh and twisted a finger into Billy’s curls.

“Oh I already know you can take, I wasn’t worried about that.” Billy eyed him, wondering exactly what vibe he gave off to make that something he was so sure of. Instead of questioning it for long, he let his hand snake back around to the front of Steve’s jeans and tug down at his belt buckle, leading Steve to grip him by the wrist and pull his hand away.

“Not so fast. My way.”

“Well fuck pretty boy, get on with it then.”

He expects Steve to pull him back away from the door, secure the lock, and toss him onto the strangers bed. All mean and rough just like what he was used to. Completely have his way with him, take his ability to walk and leave him there naked on the bed as he recovered. And he would be completely happy with that. Elated even. Just another hook-up like all the others.

What he doesn’t expect is for Steve to start kissing him again. A hand cradling his jaw as he slowly moves his lips against his, a striking change from his little introduction. This one was soft and gentle and completely unlike any kiss he’s ever had before. The closest comparisons that came to mind were the ones with girls and those were different in the fact that this one in particular was actually enjoyable. And he allowed himself to enjoy it. Allowed himself to take part in something he never had the chance to receive. A solid lead up, the full exposition and rising action instead of skipping straight to the climax. It was weird and foreign but not totally unpleasant.

He could honestly do this for hours if he wasn’t so painfully hard and so desperately impatient. Each effort made to pull away or snake a hand down Steve’s pants or even just touch himself was met with a quick slap on the wrist, until Steve finally got tired of that and pinned Billy’s hands above his head, thumbs digging into his wrists. Immobilizing him. Continuing working away at him with only the use of his lips. Tongue moving like it was on some kind of exploration. Mapping the geography that was Billy’s mouth.

Finally, after what seems like a goddamn eternity, Steve’s lips separate from his. Now they can get to the good stuff. The real reason they were here.

Except he goes back in, this time passing up his lips to instead begin sucking on his neck. Billy’s starting to get sick of these surprises.

Hickies. Something else he’s never received. Never had someone’s lips find their way to the most sensitive part of the area and suck harshly enough to leave a bruise. He couldn’t let that happen anyway. Couldn’t leave any physical evidence behind that Neil could grasp onto. But this situation was different. Neil might even see the hickey and be proud because Hawkins Indiana didn’t have any faggots like him. Must have been a girl right? But it wasn’t like anyone had really even tried to do that back in California. The guys he hooked up with didn’t do any of this. It was different but not necessarily a bad kind of different. Nobody had ever so much as kissed his neck, most certainly never taken skin between teeth and bit down. Not like Steve just fucking did.

Billy physically convulses and stifles a moan with the bite of his own lower lip. Feels as the sensation travels from where Steve’s teeth came in contact all the way down his spine making him almost whimper before Steve finally competes dragging his teeth and has let go.

“You like that huh?” Steve whispers into the crook of his neck. Breath hot against the dampness that coated his neck from the combination of Steve’s saliva and his own sweat. He’s almost positive that he’s leaking precome into his jeans right now because no interaction he’s ever had has lasted this long. He’s never kept his pants up for such a length of time and it’s starting to become too much. Not sure how much of that is Steve’s credit, and how much is the credit of months of jerking off in the shower and forcing his way through another just-for-show encounter with the latest girl who hit on him. It was all building up inside of him, waiting for this moment and Steve really had the audacity to withhold that from him.

“God would you just fucking screw me already?”

Steve just moves back into Billy lips. Chins touching but not kissing him. Speaking the words into his open mouth.

“If you’re not enjoying yourself I can leave.”

No. Anything but that.

“Fine. We’ll do things your fucking way.”

“I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.”

Billy still didn’t fully understand what “his way” entailed, but he figured out soon enough that it had something to do with going slow. Agonizingly slow to the point his dick was absolutely throbbing and he found himself fighting against Steve’s continued hold on his wrists because he just needed to touch. Failing against Steve’s strength and moving on to plan B which entailed extending his hips forward against his thighs, rubbing up and down against the muscle under the denim.

“You’re really fucking impatient, you know that?” Steve says in response and it just occurs to Billy that none of this is affecting Steve the way it is him. He can feel he’s hard in his jeans as well yet he’s not on the brink of collapse like Billy.

But finally Steve does something that at the very least scratches an itch. Releases his hold on one of his wrists and with his own hand palms Billy’s crotch through his jeans. He doesn’t rub or gently squeeze, just lets the palm rest there and ever so slightly push against it and Billy is left to do the remainder of the work. Moving his crotch against Steve’s hand with a heavy release of a sigh. It only does what he needs for just a few short seconds before it starts to get uncomfortable again. He needs Steve to move his hand, do something other than just let it sit there completely still. And now there’s no holding back the whimpering and he’s about ready to resort to desperate pleas.

Steve’s hand leaves where it was cupping his excruciating hard dick and Billy’s learned by this point not to get his hopes up for anything. The hand moves upward and presses against where he stopped buttoning his shirt leaving his chest halfway exposed, finally some fucking skin to skin contact. Billy takes the opportunity with his free hand to finally grab at himself, and he’s more than thankful when Steve doesn’t pin it back up against the door. Instead Steve uses his own free hand to travel up the length of his chest until it finds the spot he was searching for. The spot that would send Billy absolutely reeling. Gently, the tip of one of his fingers brushes over an erect nipple and just the brush of contact makes Billy shiver. Responding to the reaction Billy produces by taking the nub in between his two fingers and pinching them together. Suddenly receptors are firing off like fireworks and his dick is twitching and he’s this close to coming in his pants from the combination of Steve’s excruciating idea of foreplay and the friction against his own hand.

“Shit Harrington I’m fucking close.” He breathes out. Chest heaving as Steve only tightens his grip. Smiles at him, no, smirks at him with raised eyebrows and he ever so slowly lowers himself with the bend of his knees. Then doing the fucking unthinkable. With his right hand he continues rubbing and pinching Billy’s left nipple, while Steve takes the right into his fucking mouth. Dragging and flicking his tongue against the tip before catching it in between his teeth, suddenly an area far more sensitive than his neck. He’s nearly done for. It was a lot.

He thought his problem was that he hadn’t been getting enough.

The problem was he was getting too much.

“Fuck, Steve!”

Billy was never a talker during sex, but right now it was getting harder and harder to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m gonna— fuck, shit Harrington!”

A tight squeeze to his left nipple paired with a wet suction to his right and the frantic humping of his own hand has him finally reaching his limit. Spilling his load into his own underwear coupled with the humiliating noise that escapes his body like a ghost.

That was typically where the night ended. He was rarely ever the first to come and even when he did, the other guy followed shortly after. But Steve wasn’t even close. Erection still very prevalent in the outline of his jeans. Billy had no idea what tricks Steve had beneath his sleeve.

Despite Billy literally creaming his pants, Steve doesn’t stop playing with his nipples, only finally releasing his hold on Billy’s other wrist that had been pinned above his head for practically the entire duration. Steve is so into what he’s currently doing like he derives pleasure from making others feel good. Which is extraordinarily hot, and Billy quickly starts to feel the same cock that was fucking throbbing just moments ago begin to chub up again.

So this was his fucking plan.

He seems very pleased with himself when he’s had enough with the nipple play and rises back up to his regular height to kiss Billy again. Deeply this time, inhaling his smell and taste and relishing in it.

“Now let’s have some real fun.” He says once their lips come to part from each other. By now Billy just accepts that Steve is the one in charge and follows his lead without pushback. Letting Steve guide his hands to his belt, finally giving him the permission to do what he’s been fucking aching to do since he stepped, or more accurately was dragged, through the bedroom door. Chaotically undoing his belt and yanking down Steve’s jeans and boxers simultaneously while Steve pulled his own tee over his head. His dick bobbing free, catching a glimpse of it hard for the first time. So much bigger than he’d remembered. And it’s hard for him.

He starts working at his own belt while Steve undoes the two fastened buttons of his shirt, despite being able to just as easily pull it over his head. Billy drops his pants to the floor, his dick is coated in his own come from his previous orgasm and he’s already more than half hard, earning a grin out of Steve when he looks down to see it.

“Bed.” Steve says, gesturing toward the California King. How fucking fitting.

Billy takes his naked body and lies out onto the bed, letting himself get comfortable. Head resting on a surprisingly soft pillow. Steve checks the lock on the door and reaches down into his jeans to pull out a small bottle.

“You just carry lube around with you to parties?” Steve laughs as he makes his way over to the bed. Crawling on top to where he’s situated in between Billy’s spread out legs.

“Never know when you might need it.”

“Yeah. Well I usually take my dicking rough.”

Steve wrapped a hand around each of Billy’s shins and moved his feet up the bed so that his knees were bent and his hole was exposed.

“Well rough isn’t really my style.”

“Yeah, I fucking noticed.”

Billy propped himself up on his shoulders as he watched Steve. Waiting for the click sound of the lube bottle opening, not expecting to see Steve’s face midway through a movement angling down. Hands bracing themselves against his bare hips, fingernails gripping and digging into the skin leaving crescent shaped indentations as Steve’s lips begin to suck on his inner thigh. His hair falling forward and brushing over his dick that was already getting harder by the second without Steve’s head between his legs.

How the fuck did Billy not know about all these sensitive areas of his? Secondly, how the fuck did Steve know about them?

His legs are fucking wobbling and he can’t contain the movement at all. He’s already gripping the sheets and Steve hasn’t even put a finger inside of him.

Something about the whole thing felt odd, and he was struggling to put his finger on it until he let his head fall back against the soft pillow.

This was the first time he’s ever taken a man to bed. He’s fucked and been fucked by countless nameless and sometimes faceless men, yet he’s never done it in the comfort of a private area, let alone a comfortable bed. The ideal place for such an activity.

However, Billy doesn’t get to think too long and hard about that before cold hands quickly spread his cheeks and the tongue that was just leaving bruises on his thighs is suddenly licking over his hole.

He tenses due to surprise and has to actually bite the pillow to stop himself from loudly moaning when the underside of Steve’s tongue trails back down. His tongue soon darting inwards and swirling around inside of him making him gasp.

Billy thought experience was something he had, easily.

Turns out there were a lot of things that he hadn’t felt before.

And Steve Harrington decided to just check off the whole goddamn list in one go.

He was completely hard by now and beginning to leak pre once again. The head of cock red, and throbbing in his ears.

Steve’s tongue feels good. Really fucking good but he is absolutely desperate to have his back fucking broken by the dick that’s been permanently ingrained in his head for weeks now. He’s fit to scream at any moment.

The glorious sound of a cap clicking open is what pulls him off of the edge of absolute insanity. Two fingers adorning a cool gel find his hole and slowly one of the fingers slips in with a comfortable ease.

As previously mentioned, this wasn’t Billy’s first time around the block. And apparently not Steve’s either, which Billy expected to have some follow up questions once everything was all said and done.

Steve’s single finger was quickly followed by the institution of a second. His index and middle surging knuckles deep inside of him and beginning to scissor open and closed, spreading the walls apart and opening him up for more. Opening him up for Steve.

Soon the second finger turns into a third. And while everything is progressing along much quicker than it was while he was pressed up against that door, it’s still way too slow for Billy. He’s refraining from wrapping his hand around his own dick just out of sheer curiosity to see what Steve wants to do. Fights the extremely tempting urge, instead propping himself back up on his shoulders so that his hands were occupied elsewhere.

Billy’s not sure whether he regrets the decision to look at Steve or not. Because as Steve spreads his fingers within him, he looks fucking ethereal. Hair strands falling perfectly into his face, mouth hanging open with his tongue slightly hanging out past his lips. A look of sheer focus. Beads of sweat constellating his forehead alongside the constellation of moles that decorate his entire body. He’s going to lose it again if Steve doesn’t fucking get on with it already.

It’s actually beginning to hurt with how much desire he has coursing through his veins and pooling into the head of his cock.

Too much. It’s too much.

Steve can see the look on his face, the aggressive scrunching of his face as he waits for Steve to finally destroy him with what he’s aching for. What has been haunting his every dream and moment alone in the shower.

The rising action was nearing its end, it was time for the climax of this story to begin.

Steve removed his fingers from Billy and ripped open a new condom with his teeth. Rolling it onto his own dick that is finally looking to be at the same point Billy’s is. Absolutely rock hard.

He presses the tip of his dick firmly against Billy’s hole and it’s as if time stops just before Steve makes his slow and steady entrance, and Billy’s breath hitches.

Steve’s own eyes fall shut as he begins pumping in and out slowly trying to find his rhythm, while one hand situates itself onto Billy’s thigh, while the other that’s already coated in lube wraps around Billy’s shaft and begins pumping his hand at an identical rhythm. Pacing perfectly matched with Billy’s own breathing. Chest heaving up and down with every pump of Steve’s hand around his dick and every slam into his prostate.

“I’m close Steve. Fuck! I’m close.” Billy grunts out. Steve just picks up the pace. The first time he’s done that all damn night. Rhythm becoming erratic with Steve’s own breathing following suit. Panting heavy exhales that hit Billy’s stomach with their heat making him shiver and shake.

The muffled music and chatter that’s occurring on the other side of the wall behind him completely goes silent in his head and all he can hear is Steve. His breathing and groaning as he gets closer and closer to his own climax and Billy begins to view it as a competition on who can last the longest.

But it’s already clear who would win that battle, isn’t it?

Surely enough, Billy lasts about another measly forty-five seconds before he’s coming into Steve’s hands and dripping out over his stomach.

But like most of his hookups before, it isn't long before Steve is bottoming out and filling up the condom within Billy. Letting out his own hefty moan upon release. Letting his head toss backwards and his hair flip back out of his face and he could honestly get hard again if he wasn’t literally trying with all of his might to do anything else.

Steve eventually toppled over and fell onto the bed, lying on his back right beside Billy as they both looked up at the same ceiling fan and came down together.

“That was fucking something.” Billy said, finally catching onto his breath and reentering reality.

“Yeah, that was fun. I’m looking forward to next time.”

“Next time?” Billy turned his head so that he was looking at Steve.

“Yeah. You owe me an orgasm.”

Billy looked at him incredulously.

“You didn’t cum?”

“No, I did. But I didn’t cum twice.”

Billy playfully pushed his shoulder with three fingers. “That’s your own damn fault, you know that.”

“Are you turning the offer down?”

Billy smiles, takes advantage of the fact that he can kiss Steve and he does, rolling over on top of him and planting a short and wet one right onto his lips.

“No.”

Billy watches Steve walk out of that room approximately ten minutes later, leaving him naked and alone on the bed just like he expected, except this time, there’s hope for more.

[entropyserendipity]

Chapter 3: Salty Wounds.

Hermione had underestimated how many Weasleys there actually was, as a sea of red hair gathered to put Fred to rest. Many more were there than those she had seen at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Now that war was finally over, people dared to come out of their houses and meet family and friends again. The elation they all felt was only tainted by the bloodshed the war had caused. Such a weird feeling, when happiness like they had never felt before was mixed with the harrowing sadness that came with loss of a young life.

Fred’s funeral was simple, yet beautiful. The weather was just perfect, sunny but windy enough that they didn’t cook in the sun. One after the other, attendees shared their best memories of Fred. So many of those had involved George too, who felt a dagger dig deeper into his heart with each story, but also smiled when they had attributed to Fred something he had done.

Molly Weasley had tried to say something, say some words to remember her son by, but her grief had taken over. She had only managed to say “love you always Freddie” in between strangled sobs, before Arthur came up to her and held her tightly, his glasses askew. No eyes were dry by the time a mound of freshly turned soil had covered the casket. Ginny was crying silently as Harry’s arm was wrapped around her, his other hand holding Hermione’s. The unfairness of it all left a sour taste in their mouth. Fred was gone. His laughter will never warm their hearts again. His light, forever extinguished.

Ron had left before the ceremony had ended, slipped away when he thought nobody would notice. Hermione did in fact see him walk out to his home, alone. Half tempted to follow him, she thought better to give him some time in his solitude before she confronted him. They hadn’t discussed their kiss in the Chamber yet, and although she was sure what her heart wanted, she knew that now was not the time to speak about a relationship when the man she cared about so much was grieving.

As guests started to leave and only the residents of The Burrow were left, Hermione and Harry went looking for Ron. They found him laid in bed in his room, his blue eyes bloodshed, and his face screwed up as if he was holding back yet another torrent of tears. He didn’t even so much glance at them as they came and sat in the floor by his bed, his gaze fixated on his ceiling.

“Is there anything we can do for you, Ron?” Harry asked his best friend.

“Anything – anything to help you, we will do.” Hermione added, her voice quivering.

Ron didn’t answer, he didn’t even give any sign that he has heard them. The only give away, was how his chest started moving up and down erratically, as if battling to breathe normally. When he still didn’t say anything, Hermione went to hold one of his hands in hers.

“Ron, please, talk to us.” Hermione pleaded. “You can’t close up this way forever, we are your friends, we just want to help you. We can’t help unl-“

“YOU CAN’T HELP ANYWAYS!” Ron’s sudden shouting took them by surprise as he swatted Hermione’s hand away. “YOU CAN’T FIX THIS. YOU CAN’T BRING HIM BACK. HE IS GONE! HE IS GONE AND NOTHING WILL EVER MAKE IT BETTER!”

“Mate, believe us, we understand” Harry began

“YOU DON’T FUCKING UNDERSTAND HARRY. YOU DON’T HAVE ANY FAMILY TO LOSE, YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT! FUCK YOU BOTH!”

Ron stood up from his bed, pushing Harry and Hermione violently out of his way as he stormed out. The two of them shared a look, and tears were streaking Hermione’s face again.

“H-he didn’t m-mean it Harry, h-he’s just very sad”

But Harry’s jaw was clenched so tightly it was painful. He had wanted to run after Ron and shake his shoulders until he snapped out of it. But as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to confront his friend. The words, hurtful as they were, were those of a man so engulfed in his own pain that he didn’t care to hurt those closest to him.

Ron’s self-destructive behaviour continued over the next few days. He spoke to nobody and kept to himself. He wouldn’t come down for meals, and barely acknowledged anyone’s presence when they tried speaking to him. He did not seem to care when The Chudley Cannons, his favourite Quidditch team, won their last match.

He didn’t even show up to Remus and Tonk’s funeral. It was simple, yet beautiful. All members of The Order were present, as well as many people they had never met. Andromeda, Tonk’s mother, was wearing a black veil as she held Teddy. Even with her face mostly concealed, Hermione couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance she had with her sister, Narcissa Malfoy, albeit she looked a lot kinder, and her traits were softer. She had suffered a lot due to this war and its beliefs, even years before it had even begun. Marrying Ted Tonks, a Muggle-born, meant that none of the Blacks and their obsession with blood purity wanted anything to do with her. She had chosen love over blood status, and that had earned her a swift removal from the Black family tree. Not only did she have to bury her husband barely two months prior, but here she was saying her goodbyes to her only daughter, and her son-in-law. The tragedy that is war had stripped her of all she held dear, and all she had left now was the baby in her arms, whose hair was a soft shade of lilac.

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione apparated back together to The Burrow after the funeral. They sat outside in the shade of the apple tree with a fresh butterbeer that Molly had taken out for them.

“Now that’s the last of them. Funerals, I mean” Ginny said as she took a sip out of her drink.

“I really feel for Teddy…” Harry said. “At least he will be brought up by his grandmother, and she can remind him how amazing his parents were.”

“You’ve got a big role in this too, Harry! You are, after all, his godfather.” Said Hermione as she put a hand on his. “He will have you, and Andromeda, and everyone else of The Order… It’s not the same as having parents, but I know you will do an amazing job” she added with an encouraging smile.

“Yeah, I ‘suppose… It’s just weird, isn’t it?” he took a big gulp of his beer. “Nothing will ever be the same again… I’m just happy this war is over. It’s been too long since I’ve had a nice, full night’s sleep” he chuckled.

“Ha! You sleep just fine to me” said Ginny with a grin. “Though we have a bigger problem on our hands now.” She gestured to the topmost window of the house, where Ron’s room was. “Maybe one day he will come out and talk to us again. I think he’s being a git for no reason, though. It’s like he’s the only one who lost Fred. We all lost Fred.” She added with a fire that wasn’t unlike her.

“He barely said two words to me. I wanted to discuss… to discuss us, but he doesn’t let us talk.” Hermione said, blushing slightly.

“Oh right, the kiss.” Ginny teased her. “He would be a fool to think more snogging wouldn’t cheer him up.”

“Ginny!” Hermione was now a beautiful shade of red but seemed pleased. “I don’t want to press him on things, but a chat about it would be nice.”

Ginny was just about to answer when two owls came swooping in on them, each carrying a letter. One was dropped on Harry’s nose, and the other on Hermione’s lap.

“I wonder who is writing to us?” she asked Harry as she tore open her letter. “Oh! It’s from McGonagall!”

“And mine is from Kingsley. I wonder why he didn’t speak to me at the funeral?” he wondered, but his question was answered. “Oh! listen to this.”

Dear Harry (and Ron),

I deemed it inappropriate to approach you during the funeral, I hope you can forgive me. Your speech was very touching, and I know Remus and Tonks would have been pleased to hear all these beautiful things said about them from their son’s godfather.

I was told you had wanted to become an Auror, and so does Ron. Now this would require you to complete your N.E.W.Ts, but I doubt any school exam could beat fighting Voldemort in person like you both have. I would like to offer you a position in our Auror training program, which starts in two weeks. I would love to see you both there, you could probably teach the old folks at the Ministry a thing or two.

Let me know if that is something you would like to do.

Best,

Kingsley

Ginny screamed with joy as she launched herself into Harry’s arms, spilling some of her beer.

“Harry, that’s – that’s amazing! Wow!” Ginny said with a genuine smile.

“You’ll be an Auror Harry! And a fine one at that, might I add” said Hermione excitedly. “And Ron too! This is great, I’m so proud!”

Harry was grinning as he read Kingsley’s letter again.

“I forgot that Kingsley is Minister of Magic” he said. “It’s probably the best thing to come out of all this to be honest. What’s your letter say?” he asked Hermione

“McGonagall just informed me that I had a travel permit, I can go to Australia!” her eyes filled with tears, hardly hiding her excitement.

The rest of their afternoon was spent discussing how Hermione was getting to Australia. When Harry went to inform Ron about Kingsley’s letter, he acted like he did not hear him.

[after-witch]

(Horrorfest) ‘Don’t Fall Asleep’ Dream Demon Dabi x Reader

Title: Don’t Fall Asleep (Dream Demon Dabi x Reader)

Synopsis: Inspired by A Nightmare on Elm Street. ‘Whatever you do... don’t. fall. asleep.’

Word Count:

Notes: Kinda-yandere, horror, violence, implied assault

You nervously chew on your bottom lip. You hate this habit, because you think it makes you look like a ridiculous schoolgirl. It reminds you of the many pasts that you left behind, the old versions of yourself that you shed like old coats when you first started college, then again when you graduated, and once more when you moved to  a new city. Always running, always on the move, at least until meeting actual friends and landing an almost fulfilling job in a city thriving with life and culture made you set down roots.

Roots which were currently threatening to wear thin, to rot and mold underneath your feet. All because of your dreams... all because of Dabi. 

“(Y/N)?”

You look up, and realize your friend had stopped talking a while ago. What was she saying before? Something about her job and--

“Are you okay?” Her tone is more annoyed than concerned, but you can’t exactly blame her. You’ve been drifting off so often lately, finding it hard to focus at work, at home, and even with your closest friends.

“Sorry,” you spit out. “I’m just--” You want to tell her, but you’ve told her before, and you knew she didn’t want to hear it. Not after the bad dreams had stopped for a while and everyone went back to a nervous, egg-shell type of normality.

They were so worried about you, but you were better now, so everyone was relieved; there were no more frustrated group calls and secret group chats where you were left out of events because no one wanted you to nod off and wake up screaming in the middle of a board game session.

You sigh and play with your ponytail. “Really stressed with work,” you finish, lying through your teeth. A look at your friend makes your stomach drop. She knows you’re lying. She’s going to make you tell her everything and--

“Oh,” she says. “No worries. So anyway, like I was saying…”

Her words feel muted as she repeats whatever story she’d been telling. She knows you’re lying, you think, she knows the dreams are back and you’re terrified and alone and--she doesn’t want to hear it.

You nod occasionally while she speaks, keeping up the pretense of conversation in the hopes that it will help you stay awake.

**

If someone were to hack into your phone, they wouldn’t find anything very strange. Unless they wandered into your alarms and wondered why in the hell anyone needed alarms set every 30 minutes or so.

The alarms are your saving grace. You started setting them when you realized that you could get sleep.. you just had to be careful not to sleep enough to dream. Experts said it took an hour or 90 minutes to dream, but experts weren’t being chased by some terrifying monster every time their brain decided to shift into REM, so experts could stuff it.

Truthfully, you feel proud of yourself for thinking of the idea in the first place. You weren’t going to let that bastard and his dreams keep you from sleep--no, you’d get sleep and keep him from you. Ha-ha, two birds, one stone--and one infinitely wise (Y/N).

Tonight, you decided that you’re going to get a few naps in before the sun rises; you have an important meeting at work tomorrow and the naps will help you brain feel a little refreshed. You still felt foggy, but nap after nap was better than no sleep at all. So you make your bed, cozy but not too cozy, double check your alarms, double check the sound on your phone, and fluff your pillow. Your eyes close easily and it’s not long before your conscious thought slips away.

You jerk awake, sudden and harsh, to the the sound of an obnoxious unknown ringtone you’d selected solely for its ability to annoy the fuck out of you. It was a true, cobbled together shitshow of a tune that you loved to hear, because it meant another successful nap.

You check a text message on your phone, then look over at your cheap dimestore clock you’d pinned to the wall, before glancing in the mirror. Check, check, and check. Everything was normal. Your phone worked right, the clock was working, and you could see your own reflection. You weren’t dreaming.

Your stomach grumbled. You hadn’t eaten since that afternoon--catching up on late work earlier had left you frazzled and you worked right through dinnertime just to make your extended (and oh so late) deadline. 

It was too late to order in, but you did have a frozen pizza somewhere in the back of the freezer. Happily, you got out of bed, pulled on your warm robe, and walked out of your bedroom into an dingy boiler room with peeling concrete walls and a roaring furnace making the floor and walls and air heavy with heat.

Wait.

Your heart pounds ferociously as you spin back, reaching helplessly for a bedroom doorknob that isn’t there. No, no no no--

“Did you have a good nap, (Y/N)? Did you get some sweet shut-eye?” The voice is taunting and cruel and absolutely terrifying. You screw your eyes shut and repeat the mantra you’d drilled into your head: “I am dreaming. I recognize that I am dreaming. And I want to wake up. I am going to wake up. I am going to--”

A voice, harsh, low, and right in your ear:

“That’s not going to work, you dumb bitch.”

The whimper that leaves your lips is unlike any noise you’ve made before. Helpless and hopeless, like an animal caught in a trap. Tears are streaming down your face as your force yourself to open your eyes, coming face to face with your tormentor. Dabi. The name and face that was etched into your memory from the first time you’d dreamt of him, years ago, when your life still felt normal and sane.

His face is partially scarred, and you cringe at the sight of bright, silver rings lining his eyes and cheeks; with Dabi this close, they practically glinted.

“IwantowakeupIwantowakeupIwanttowakeup--”

His hands are suddenly on you, harsh and hot and burning you as he shoves you against the wall. Your back collides with the concrete and you cry out at the searing pain that shoots through your legs.

“You’re not going to wake up. At least not for a while.” His grin is practically feral as he brings up one of his scarred hands to your cheeks, stroking it with a deceptive gentleness. “You’ve been asleep since this afternoon. Poor little (Y/N) fell asleep at her desk…”

You shake your head rapidly. “No--no, I set my alarms, I’ve been up, I, I--”

The slap to your face is sharp, light, and humiliating. “I-I-I,” he says, mocking and cruel. “Nah, sweetheart. I tricked you good though, didn’t I? Let you think you actually got something done for once, let you think you weren’t a total fucking failure.” 

He leans in close, practically whispering; his breath is acrid, like smoke, and his entire presence radiates an uncomfortable heat. “Can’t say I’m going to be as nice later on, though…”

You jerk your shoulders, a pitiful struggle makes him smile for a moment, but when you don’t stop trying to get out of his grip he pulls you forward and slams you back into the wall. Instead of hitting heavy concrete you feel yourself falling, falling--then landing with a surprising bounce on something soft.

You look to the side and see you’re on a mattress. Dabi is above you, both arms pinning your shoulders down with a firm force. He leans in close, as if to kiss you. Your entire being lurches at the thought.

“No!” You say, kicking your legs. “Get--get off, don’t--”

Dabi chuckles and pulls his face back. “Don’t worry, I’m not that fast. You’re not here for that, yet.”

You stare up at him. Your body feels numb, tingling in fear. You finally manage to whisper out: “Then what do you want?”

He tilts his head slightly before his eyes roam up and down your prone form. His gaze lands on your chest. His hands press on your shoulders and you can feel stinging, like running your hands under hot water in the kitchen sink.

“We’re going to play first.”

**

You wake up at your desk, your real desk, your real home. Your entire body aches as you force yourself to move, to jump around, wave your arms, as the tears blur your vision nearly entirely. You do your checks but realize it could be another trick, it could be--but Dabi would never have let you go, not at the moment when you finally pulled yourself out of the dream.

Suddenly, the elation at being awake, at being free, at being alive turns into searing pain; your chest hurts, it hurts so bad. You pull your shirt down--and scream.

You think, faintly, vaguely, wildly, as you call for an ambulance: well, at least they’re second-degree burns. I can still feel the pain.

**

You turn off the cold shower tap, trembling and shivering in the frigid air. They were brutal and sometimes painful, but they kept you awake, and that’s all that mattered. You quickly dry yourself off and slip into a thin nightgown before grabbing your toothbrush.

The bathroom mirror has never been a more unwelcome sight, but you force yourself to stare into it, to stare into your own, tired eyes. You look sick. You look older. You’re so sleep deprived that you honestly, truly think you might die from it. 

But you know that won’t happen, not really--because Dabi would certainly kill you before the sleep deprivation could. And his version of your death would not be nearly as merciful. If he would even kill you at all. Could you keep you forever, dead or alive, but dreaming all the same?

The thick burn scar running across your chest aches as you considered it.

You grab another handful of caffeine pills and swallow them, hard and bitter, chasing them with a chug from your lukewarm energy drink. God willing, you won’t sleep… at least not tonight.

[ikindamissbeingphysical]

Your Costume Would Look Better on my Bedroom Floor - RIVUSA fic

Read on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29331153

Riven hooks up with a masked girl at a Halloween party and is determined to find her again.

But his feelings are torn, when Musa, his newest-specialism partner, starts acting weird.

The music's so loud that she can't hear herself think.

And what a blessing that is. The strobe lights flash neon; reflected off of shiny, sweating bodies and the shadows cast are hues of amber and red and Musa could get lost in the blur of those lights and the pounding beat of the music and visions of Halloween masks. Skeletons slide past her, girls with impressive (read: petrifying) make up, fairies with fangs, and even specialists with werewolf ears.

She isn't sure quite how it happened, but a group of girls she isn't particularly close to, from her English class, had begged her to be their ninth muse.

"Your name is Musa!" Daisy, the water (not earth, not earth) fairy had said, leaning against the back of the chair and giving Musa her biggest puppy-dog eyes. "And we totally like, need a ninth muse. Please!"

The other girls had all nodded vigorously. Musa had inwardly cursed her inability to pack away her things faster and high-tail it out of the class as soon as the bell had rung, cursed herself for letting them corner her like this. And even though she hadn't wanted to, she could read the wholesomeness radiating off of them like enormous waves. It was only an earnest desire to have fun. Daisy had prattled on about the group photo opportunities, how she even had Musa's costume all lined up, when Musa had lifted her hand to silence the babbling.

"Alright," she said, to their elation and surprise, "fine." And then she'd put her headphones on and done her best to forget about it.

She'd wondered for a while, briefly, if the Suite had wanted some sort of group costume. It wasn't Stella's thing, really, to coordinate outfits with other people, and as the end of October rolled around, Sky and Bloom had begun the hunt for couples costumes and Musa had supported each suggestion whole-heartedly; eager to avoid any awkwardness.

Stella's at this party too, somewhere. Dressed in some intense haute-couture, and Terra too, as a bat? Musa isn't sure, and she wasn't about to ask. Aisha would show, for an hour or less, before rushing back to the dorm to study for the Elementals final on Tuesday. Sky and Bloom were on the dance floor, and Musa allowed herself a moment to bask in their respective bliss.

It had been a good night so far, to her surprise.

Daisy and her classic-fanatics had helped her into costume, and there had been pre-drinks (fruity cocktails that were worryingly easy to drink) and a lot of photos.

Musa had to admit, they looked good. The nine of them, in their silks and their satins, and the intricate, embroidered masks that sat on the bridge of Musa's nose and fanned her eyes with fine, delicate lace detail.

"You'll be Euterpe," Daisy had said, with perfect pronunciation, as she helped Musa into the lilac and purple swathes of silk that cinched in tight at the waist. "The muse of Music. Since you're always listening to it!"

"Funny." Musa grinned, only a little forced, before she'd turned to the mirror and blended out her eyeshadow.

It's not that she doesn't like Daisy. Daisy’s fine. Nice. Perfectly average. It’s just Musa keeps to herself. Her mother had always called her an introvert, or rather: someone who re-charged in the dark with music, before the battery was high-enough to go out and socialise again. Some people require more energy: the girls in her Suite are a moderate amount, but Daisy and the English Lit gang? They require a lot of power. They can be draining.

They're all out on the dance-floor now, though, leaving her alone, and Musa sips her strawberry daiquiri and basks into the mind-numbingly, paradoxically loud, peace of the crowd.

"As hot as you look in that costume," comes a slow, sultry drawl, "I'm sure you'd look much better out of it."

Musa's smiling, it's a reflex to smile now, whenever she hears Riven's voice. She doesn't like to think about the ramifications of that too much, so she turns and grins up at him, content to enjoy the night without over-analysing the feelings that have been simmering just under her skin for a while now.

Riven's...well, she's glad for the low-light, because she can feel the burn in her cheeks. Some sort of pirate, maybe? But he's shirtless, with that broad, wiry definition she's grown use to seeing from their Specialism training together, and there's a dark trail of hair leading into his black leather pants. He's got a leather waistcoat on too, over his bare torso, and an eye-patch flipped up onto his forehead, a red bandana tied around his neck and his hair all mussed in that way she knows takes him at least twenty minutes in the mornings.

He towers over her, a drink in hand, and an appreciative gleam in his eyes. She leans against the pillar and sips her strawberry potion. "How many times have you used that one tonight?"

"Only half a dozen," he shrugs, one hand toying with the silk train of her dress. The fabric is so light, it glides through his fingertips and she can feel the heat of his hands on her thighs.

"Wow. Way to make a girl feel special."

He chuckles, and his breath fans over her ear and she shivers all over. "Is that what you want, baby?" He asks, pushing in closer, and she sets her drink down before she spills it. "You wanna feel special? I can arrange that."

She wonders if he's drunk, or feeling bolder than usual in the dark- she certainly is- and she almost can't contain her joy that he likes her back. It spills out of her, and he smiles in bemusement.

They've flirted before, in class, or well- something like flirting. Something like banter, but with softer edges, and secret smiles and inside jokes, but he's so well-guarded, Musa can never quite get a fix on his emotions.

She can now though, she can read the desire and it's not at all hidden, and she feels brave and confident so-

She stretches onto her tiptoes (screw Daisy and these short-ass sandals) and bites the bullet and kisses him.

He moans in surprise, and she hears his own drink being set down, before his hands are in her hair, mindful of her mask, moving gently through the beads and jewellery, skimming down her body to her waist and then his mouth is on her jaw, and Musa leans her head back, granting him all the access he wants, as she clings to his shoulders.

It’s perfect. It’s body-tingling, it’s everything she let herself think it would be on all those lonely nights when he was just letters on her phone, shining in the darkness.

"I've wanted this for so long," she admits, elated, and Riven hums in surprise, pulling away a little.

His lips are raw, and she runs the pad of her thumb over them. She did that. He nips at her finger, and she laughs.

"Really?" He asks, curious but not displeased, as he leans in for another kiss, "do we share a class or something?"

She laughs, before she realises he's being serious. It takes her a long, awful moment, before it all clicks.

Riven doesn't know it's her.

Riven doesn't recognise her.

It's like she's been shoved into the Alfea-River, cold and sobering and awful (no matter how much Aisha sings it's praises) and Musa stumbles out of Riven's embrace, heart-pounding, stomach dropping.

"Hey," Riven frowns, reaching for her arm, "what's wrong-"

"I-" She can't believe it. For a wild moment, she'd thought- allowed herself to think that Riven wanted- "I have to go." is what comes out, before she turns and bolts into the crowd. She runs into people, gets a few elbows in the ribs, her dress snags on a door handle and she hopes Daisy isn't mad- before she finally gets outside.

She gulps in the night air, feels the prickle of tears on her cheeks and wipes them away harshly, laughing at her own ludicrousness. What was she thinking?

She rips off the mask, and a loud, embarrassing sob tears from her throat. She looks over the empty-parking lot, can still hear, mostly muted now, the music inside. The drop from cloud nine to here is giving her whiplash.

"Musa!" Comes Terra's concerned yelp, and Musa jumps. She's not used to being taken off-guard, not when she can feel people before they sneak up on her. Especially Terra. And now great, she's crying, and she hates crying in front of people. Terra bundles over, wrapped up in a thick winter coat. Was she leaving the party early? "What's happened! Are you okay?"

Musa tries to play it off, she doesn't like being the centre of attention. "Yeah, no- I'm- long night. A bit fried."

Terra nods: understanding. "I'll bet. Me too. Let's go back to the Suite. I can make us some hot-chocolate. We can watch a movie?"

"That actually sounds really nice." Musa whispers, letting Terra guide her away. Terra's a comforting mix of worry and a fissure of pleasure. Musa assumes the latter is because they're finally spending some time together. Terra's all about roommate bonding, and Musa supposes she hasn't always been the most accommodating. It’s a good distraction, to focus on how she’ll make more of an effort with Terra.

Later, once they're both in Terra's bed, drinking hot chocolate (which is really, rather painfully sweet for Musa's taste, but she drinks it anyway) and watching Garfield Goes to London, the events of earlier seem sort of like a nightmare.

She drifts off, her head finds Terra's shoulder, and Terra is warm, and smells like apple-body wash, and she falls asleep, hoping that when she wakes up, it won't have been real. It'll be the morning of October 31st, and none of will have ever happened.

The sun rises on November 1st.

Riven tosses his shoe at it, but it remains stubbornly in the sky. Mocking him. It's then he realises how cold it is. And then, a little dimly, he notices that he's outside. Dazed, aching, and evidently he slept in the now dew-damp grass. And that the rather ugly looking cloud frowning down at him is-

“Morning, Silva.” Riven mutters, trying to block out the light. His voice sounds as rough as he feels. He gets to his feet, wobbling, and Silva steadies him and brushes some of the dead grass off his shoulders.

“This is the way to behave?" Silva berates, but he doesn't sound too angry, so Riven drowns it out. "This is the kind of example my two best Specialists are setting? I expect this from you, Riven, but Sky? How disappointing.”

Sky? Oh, that's right. Riven has a murky memory of the two of them searching for the grounds for- shit. More memories trickle back to him. The lovely lady in lavender, with thighs he's desperate to get his hands on, and who'd had a crush on him for ages. How she's disappeared and he didn't have her name, her number, her instagram, only a description of her costume. Sky had been eager to help, more than a little drunk, with Bloom on his arm. Riven wonders where Bloom is, before deciding he doesn't really care that much.

“Saul, it wasn’t, I’m sorry.” Sky stammers, as Riven turns and heads back to school.

It's still excruciatingly early for a Sunday morning, as he staggers back to his room and into the shower. The hot water cascades over him, sinks deep into his bones and soothes. I've wanted this for so long the mystery-girl whispers, and she's achingly familiar, tantalising, lighting up a spark inside him that doesn't burn often. Fuck, she was hot. He's not sure what happened, but he's pretty sure it isn't how the night was meant to have ended.

When he gets out of the shower, Sky is sitting on his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Got a good tongue-lashing?" Riven asks, pulling on a shirt.

Sky groans. "There was more alcohol in that punch than I thought." His phone buzzes, and he smiles at it, and Riven rolls his eyes.

"I take it your girlfriend got back."

"Yeah, she- oh wait." Sky's eyes light up, "did we find your girl?" Riven shakes his head and Sky slumps with disappointment. "Oh, maybe Bloom knows. What was she dressed as again?"

"I don't know, a goddess or a princess something? It was purple."

Sky types into his phone and Riven chugs half his bottle of water and contemplates bullying one of the first-years into bringing him a stack of pancakes from the cafeteria.

"She can't remember anything." Sky says apologetically, sliding his phone into his pocket. "We think someone spiked the punch."

"Right." Riven sighs, and honestly, of course someone spiked the punch. He knows at least five different people who tossed vodka shots into it throughout the night. He may have been one of them. "I need food."

He's almost out the door when Sky's voice drifts after him. "You're still gonna look for her right? You said she was your soulmate!"

Jesus. He's way too soft a drunk. "Forget I said that." Riven demands, even though it's futile, because Sky likes to collect all the soft, little vulnerable parts of people and treasure it about them forever. "But yes, I'm still gonna find her. At the very least, it's a damn good lay."

Sky jogs after him down the hall, stumbling into a member of the cleaning-staff and haphazardly picking up the mop. "And at the most: you'll fall in love. Imagine it, Riven." He slings an arm over Riven's shoulder. "You: in love. It's hard to picture, right?"

"Keep dreaming, mate."

"It'd suit you, I bet." Sky continues, ever the optimist, "maybe it'll tone down your dickish tendencies by 30%. Maybe even 40."

The arm over his shoulder turns less into a friendly gesture and more into a drunk man desperately needing support, so Riven clutches Sky tighter and helps him down the stairs, wondering when he got such an idiot for a best friend.

The cafeteria's fairly empty, Riven would expect nothing less for this hour, so he dumps Sky unceremoniously at one of the many vacant tables, and flashes his most shit-eating grin at the lunch lady who hands him a plate full of pancakes so reluctantly, he'd almost think she'd rather have handed him a terminal illness.

He turns, ready to re-join Sky and hatch a game plan for finding his mystery girl, when his eyes lock onto a figure in the corner of the room.

It's Musa. As soon as he realises it, he's already on his way over. He's drawn to her, he's always been drawn to her. It had been easy, at first, to shrug it off as attraction. He's hot, she's hot, it's basic physics. But they've been sparring partners for two Semesters now, and though he'll never admit it, he likes her company. Likes the easy banter and the way they fit together. If he ever let himself think about it more deeply, he knows he'd stumble onto how compatible they are. How everything seems just a touch brighter when she smiles at him.

"Well, you look radiant this morning." He says, dumping his plate onto her table with a clatter and watching her wince.

Her hair's a mess, her make-up dried, and her eyes red. He chuckles at how bedraggled a figure she makes, normally so pristine and put-together. It's a fun contrast.

She looks up at him, annoyed, before something strange flickers over her face. It startles him, whatever it is, she looks- ashamed?

"Ut-oh," he sing-songs, folding up one of his pancakes and sliding the whole thing into his mouth. "Regretting last night's decisions, are we? Where'd you end up? Let me guess: Terra talked you into her weed-brownies and she fucked up the batch. Baked, I don't know, fucking clovers instead of weed into the batter."

It earns him a tiny little smile on the corner of her mouth, and his whole body curves closer to her in response. "Don't even. I want to forget it. Forget everything about it."

She takes a long gulp of her drink and he notices it's black coffee. Not very Musa. She likes that disgusting earl grey shit the school doesn't stock very often. When she's forced to have coffee, it's so milky that she might as well not bother. Something's off. He examines her a little more closely, and, not for the first time, envies her powers. To see what was going on in her head, to see her emotions instead of sitting across the table and guessing at them, would be extremely useful right now.

She reaches across the table and steals one of his pancakes, and she looks so pitiful that he lets her, and she tears it up like a bird before she eats it. "What about you?" She asks, not meeting his eyes, "how was your night?"

For some reason, he doesn't want to tell her about the mystery-girl and his new quest to find her. It feels...wrong, to brag about some conquest. It shouldn't. It's not like they're- they're just friends. Barely. "No complaints," he says instead, and he hates this a little bit, that they're both being so evasive.

So, he gives her shin a good kick under the table.

"Ow! Riven!" She scowls, whacking his arm.

He grins at her. "Muscle spasm."

She huffs out a fond laugh, when anyone else would have stormed away from him. "Oh, really? You're getting muscle spasms now? Good to know, so I can kick your ass in training this week."

"You wish." He hums, ripping the next pancake in half and offering the larger piece to her. She takes it and eats it, and when the maple syrup dribbles down her hand, she licks it up from her wrist to her thumb, with a rose-pink tongue that Riven can't look away from. He thinks, vaguely, that she's asked him a question, because she's looking at him with expectant eyes, but there's still glossy, shiny maple on her lips and he thinks it would probably taste a lot better on her. "Huh?"

"I said, I think Sky's going to throw-up."

He follows her gaze to where Sky is leaning over the table, looking particularly green.

Riven shrugs, going for another pancake. "Probably. He's a light-weight."

"Shouldn't you tend to him? Best friend duties?"

"Oh," Riven hums, smacking his lips together, "is that why all of yours are here with us?"

Musa frowns down at her coffee. "They wanted to come with me, but...it's so loud sometimes, you know? Sometimes I just need this. Peace." She closes her eyes, breathes in deeply, and Riven is arrested by the sight of her.

By the time he regains control of his vocal abilities, her eyes are open, ringed just a little with purple, and she's beautiful. "Does that mean I count as peace?" He teases, just a little flattered.

"Please," she scoffs, "your emotions are not quiet. You're as loud as Terra-"

"Fuck you, take that back."

"-but it's different."

Riven leans closer on the stool; curious. She doesn't often talk about her powers with him, and he knows why. He'd been pretty blunt when they were first paired up, practically threatened to ruin her life if she'd so much as peeked into his head. He knows now that her control still isn't great, and that she tries, and that most of the time, she doesn't want to know what anyone's feeling, not when it drowns out her own emotions.

Prompted by his look, she struggles to find the words. "Terra is...it's like a room of people all yelling my name. They each want something different, they each crave something, and it's just not a fun situation, really."

That sounds about right. He can't imagine any situation being fun with Terra. "And what about me?"

"You-" she meets his eyes, and quickly looks away again, and he's so fucking intrigued by her. What is this? She's never been like this before, he's never been like this before. It's too soft, too intimate for them. But it's a quiet, empty Sunday morning, when she looks at her black, black coffee and says: "You sound sort of like a rainforest. It's lots of sounds: a growling jaguar, beetles scuttling up wet bark, gorilla's moving through trees, the creak of branches, storms, rain, it's...it's a harmony. Each sound is a different emotion, but they come together, like an orchestra. It's..." Her cheeks flame red, and he can tell she wants him to look away from her, but he can't. "It's peaceful." She admits, finally.

Riven opens his mouth but nothing comes out. It's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about him. He feels raw, cut to the bone and exposed like a deep paper cut. The air seems to sting around him, and he can't believe that it's Musa, Musa, that associates him with something that isn't bad.

"So. Yeah." She says, awkwardly, toying with her empty coffee cup. "I feel really stupid, by the way, so feel free to even the playing field."

"Don't feel stupid." He whispers, and his voice must sound different because her eyes snap up to meet his. His hand is across the table, and he's not sure how it got there or what he planned on doing with her. Her fingers thrum against her cup in response. Neither one of them moves. "I uh-, that's...I picture you sometimes. Like, obviously I don't know what you're feeling, but sometimes when you're talking or we're fighting, I get these images of you, like landscapes." What the fuck is he doing, why is he speaking, why doesn't he shut up- "like a white-sand beach, or an over-grown field of harebells."

Riven can feel his heart thumping in his chest, and Musa is staring at him, and their fingers are inching, slowly, towards each other and then-

Sky vomits. Loudly.

Musa jumps up. "Oh my god!" She cries, rushing over to him. Riven scrambles after her, as Sky coughs up the rest of it. "I'll get him some water."  Musa says, running to the lunch lady.

Riven pats Sky's back, and Sky looks up at him, still a little green around the edges. "Oh hey! You should definitely ask Musa if she saw your mystery girl last night." He says hoarsely. Still definitely drunk, then.

"Shut the fuck up and don't say anything about that to her." Riven hisses, as Musa returns with a plastic cup of water. She looks between them curiously, and Riven gives Sky a warning glare, but all Sky does is vomit some more, and then reach for the water with a pained smile. "I'm gonna take him back to the dorm." Riven mutters, and Musa nods.

"Sure, uh, feel better Sky. I'll see you in class, Riven."

"Bye Musa! Say hi to Bloom for me!" Sky bellows, and Riven regrets, just a little, spiking the punch.

"Dressing to impress." Stella observes, spotting Musa through her hand mirror as Musa walks into the classroom on Monday morning.

Stella's been bitchier than usual to all the girls in the Suite. Musa is nearly one hundred percent sure that things with her mom are worse than usual, so she's given Stella a lot of leeway. Her patience is reaching it's limit, though. Especially because she is dressing to impress. They share this class with the Specialists: History of Magic, and as she'd pulled on the thigh-high socks and fussed over her space-buns for slightly longer than usual, she maybe, sort of, a little, had a certain Specialist in mind. And Musa does not like being called out.

"I'm surprised you even noticed my outfit," Musa says, voice just a little mean, "considering the fact you spend almost all your time looking at yourself in the mirror."

"Hm." Stella cocks her head, "can you read how I feel about that joke? Or should I tell you?"

Definitely a mom-thing.

"Watch it, princess." Riven calls, catching Musa's attention from one of the desk's near the back. He kick out the chair beside him for Musa, who ducks her head to hide her smile, as she goes over to join him.

Stella rolls her eyes. "You fighting Musa's battles now for her?" She asks, as Musa shrugs off her backpack and takes out her pencil case.

"Musa starts her own fights," Riven grins, grabbing the leg of Musa's seat and dragging it closer to his own. Their thighs touch. Musa's breath hitches, and she looks up at him, but he's still looking at Stella; a challenge in his voice. "But I sure like to finish them. Wanna tussle, blondie?"

Stella looks over the two of them for a moment longer before turning away. "Whatever." She mutters, dismissively.

Riven looks down at her then, a lot closer than Musa expected, and smelling of cologne. Does he normally wear cologne to class? She doesn't know. But he fills her head with pleased, protective, content and she likes that he's in such a good mood. "She's not wrong, though," he murmurs, tweaking one of her space-buns, "this is a big improvement from the train-wreck you were on Sunday."

"Gee, thanks, Riven."

"You're welcome."

The teacher walks in then, so Musa has to flip him the bird under the table, and Riven laughs too loudly and has to turn it into a cough when Dowling glowers at him.

To Musa's relief, the lesson is...normal. As normal as it is for the two of them to sit beside each other in History of Magic, which isn't really. She normally sits beside Stella, and meets Riven's eye every few minutes, as he purposely disrupts the class, or cracks a joke, and then he seems to find her, relishing in everyone's good-humour but seeking her out all the same, as if to check he's made her smile too.

Or maybe she's reading too much into it. He's forgotten the kiss, that much is totally clear. It probably happens to him all the time, kissing unknown girls under flashing lights. After she left, he probably found a new conquest.

She tries not to let it get her down. It's not as if he's dating anyone, not that it would- not that it would matter.

But then she remembers yesterday morning. Remember's him leaning in, his emotions a swirl of brutal honesty as he said she was a field of overgrown harebells.

She hadn't even known he knew what harebells were, but then again, why wouldn't he? She has a vague memory of him as a first-year, hiding in the Green House most lunch times, smuggling potted plants back into his dorm room. She knows if she told anyone (which she wouldn't, not ever, not without his express consent) how soft, and sweet and brutally deep he can be, no one would believe her because he hides it, buries it deep under everything else, and for some reason, he shows it to her.

"What?" He whispers to her, and she turns, pulling from her musings to see him leaning in, an eyebrow arched.

Musa looks at him quizzically, before he taps the edge of her notebook.

Oh fuck. She's written his name. Riven stares accusingly up at her from the top corner of her page.

Thinking on her feet, she scribbles some more:

wanna have lunch today?

He reads it, and he nods, but still looks a little bemused, so she keeps writing:

in the woods. past the barrier.

"Ah," he whispers, nodding, and she feels relief bubble up inside her. "Sure. I'll meet you at 2."

"Riven," Dowling calls, and Musa jerks her head up. "Something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

Riven pretends to think. "Not that I can think of." He says, "you go on."

Musa can't help her smile, and Dowling catches it. Disapproval wafts off of her, and Musa cringes away from it.

"Ignore her." Riven mutters, uncapping his pen, "crazy old bat."

Then he writes Musa in the top left corner of his notebook, and she knows he caught her, but when she sees his smile, her mortification fades away. She likes her name in his handwriting. How he loops it, how the M's tail drifts into the u.

She pushes her own notebook towards him. "Write it again," she whispers.

"Kinky." But he obliges her, and writes Musa, you should wear those socks more often. His eyes flicker to her legs and she rests her chin on her hands.

"I knew you'd like them."

His hand reaches under the table, toys with the end of her socks on her thigh. "You were thinking of me then you put them on?" He asks, voice low, and she doesn't mean to dip into his head but the arousal is strong and sweet and addictive.

Triumph lights up her mental periphery, and Musa looks around to see Stella's eyes on them, a smirk on her lips.

"Shit." Musa whispers, pulling her legs away, turning from Riven entirely, heart pounding. She can feel his disappointment, but she forces herself to focus on her notes. It could be worse, she tries to reason, Stella's a great secret-keeper, when she's not pissed off. And besides, what's the secret? Sure, she and Riven flirt, it's harmless, it's nothing, it's-

"You're in love with him." Stella says, accosting her after class, as Musa looks desperately for an escape route.

"What? No-"

"It's not fun, is it? Having someone know your feelings?"

Musa sighs and takes a breath. "Look, Stell, it's really nothing. Please."

Stella looks over her, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Finally, she relaxes. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Musa. I'm not a total bitch."

"I don't think you're a bitch." Musa says honestly, "I think you can be bitchy, when you have a bad day, but I know you're going through your own stuff. Everyone has their shit."

"You sound like him." Stella shudders, looping their arms together and leading them down the halls like they're best friends again. And really, with Stella, they might be. The girl doesn't hold a grudge. "But I like it: the two of you. You really were dressing to impress. Have you made a move?"

"No- look, I-" she doesn't know where to begin, or how to explain, and Stella's eyes are really blue and piercing and a little frightening.

"Stone circle." Stella says, steering them to their next lesson. "Perfect. We'll partner up, our powers don't need too much guidance, and you can tell me everything. Finally. I feel like you never have any good gossip, when really, you should have the best considering your power."

"I don't really wanna talk about it, Stella-"

"Tough." Stella sings, navigating the cobblestones outside in her heels with enviable grace, "you're getting my help, whether you want it or not."

Musa thinks of the notebook tucked tenderly into her bag, of Riven writing her name, and he way he'd pulled her chair closer to his. The way she'd flushed hot all over at such an easy show of strength.

"Maybe I do need your help." She mutters, and Stella squeaks so loudly that two magpies leap out of trees into the sky with fright.

Riven's scanning instagram account after instagram account, looking for any girl in the school that bears a passing resemblance to the one he kissed on Halloween. A lot of them posted photos of themselves in costume, so it's easy to cross them off the list. But it's not really working. He can't quite get a fix on the features the girl had. The shape of her lips or her nose are a blur to him. He shuts off his phone in frustration and Sky pauses in his never-ending quest to do as many push-ups as possible.

"No luck?" He guesses and Riven clicks his tongue. "Maybe she doesn't go to our school."

He's considered that. "She said she'd liked me for a while."

"Maybe she's from some sort of facility? She's clearly not well."

Riven tosses a pillow at Sky, but it lacks heat.

Sky gets to his feet and reaches for a protein bar. "Maybe we should just accept that she's gone? You and Musa seem to have a pretty good thing going."

"Musa?"

"Don't play." Sky rolls his eyes, "I'm not blind. Also, you left me alone at a lunch table to puke my guts out while you made moon-eyes at her."

"I think the alcohol has seriously affected your recall abilities."

Sky shoves him a little, before joining him on the bed. "She's nice, she likes you, you like her. I'm not seeing the problem?"

Oh brilliant, they're doing this. A conversation about feelings. "We're friends." Riven says carefully, because Sky talks to Bloom and the last thing Riven needs is for Musa to hear some hacked, Chinese-whispers version of this. "We're good friends, and I don't know if there's anything more to it than that. We flirt, but..."

"You're a flirt." Sky nods, understanding. "You don't know if it's real?"

"Exactly."

"Well, do you want it to be?"

"Jesus, Sky, what are you, Freud?"

"Seems like a straight forward question."

"Well, of course." Riven erupts, getting to his feet and pacing the length of the room and back. "Of course, I'd like it to be real, why wouldn't I? She's the only person at this school that understands me. She's gorgeous, she makes me laugh, she-"

"Oh shit."

Riven turns to look at Sky, who's looking at him like he's grown two heads. "What?" He asks, feeling self-conscious, and Sky back-pedals.

"Nothing, I just- you...you love her. It sounds like. Like maybe you love her, a little."

Riven remembers his stomach tightening when she'd taken the seat beside him in History. Of the way he always seems to seek her out, how each buzz of his phone might be a notification from her.

Love is a far-fetched notion. But he likes her. A lot. Too much, sometimes. He always feels one breath way from over-playing his hand, from revealing his deck, and he just doesn't know if his flush is enough to get him through to the next round. He doesn't know if he can risk going all in. Doesn't know if he'll survive it.

"You've got to tell her, dude," Sky murmurs, and Riven nods.

He decides he'll do it in Specialism, but words fail him when he sees her on their training mat, hair in two high pig-tails, grinning at him in the morning sun. "Ready to get your ass-kicked?" She calls, as he drops down his bag beside her and joins her in their warm-up stretches.

"In your dreams." He says, wondering how they got here. Marvelling at the fact she's here, in their spot, on their mat, waiting for him with that smile. Wondering when and how and why she stuck by him when all he ever tried to do was shove her away. "Musa," he begins, watching as she fumbles with her laces. He knocks her fingers out of the way and laces them for her himself, the way he does every week. She emits a little pulse of gratitude and it wraps around him like an embrace. "You're getting better at that." He hums.

"It's pretty great," she beams, proud of the advances in her magic. She's been struggling for some time, but more and more often lately, she's able to communicate like that and Riven's rewarded by little pulses of smugness, playful, pleasure as she projects them at him in lieu of a response.

He wants to feel other emotions from her. He wants to know what want will feel like, knocking him to his core, knowing that she could show him if she wanted him, when she wanted him- "Musa," he tries again, when Dane's shadow falls over them both.

Riven glowers up at him and Dane's smile wavers. "Uh, hey Riven. Hi Musa."

Musa offers a small wave, and Riven gets to his feet. "What."

"I just- Sky told me a few days ago about that girl you were looking for? I think it might actually be a friend of my sister's. She's a second year too: transferred a few months ago. She's really nice, her name is Lila."

Riven takes a deep breath and keeps his voice low. "That's great, Dane. Now get lost."

"Uh, o-okay, do you want me to text you her number?"

"Scram!" Riven growls, and Dane high-tails it, and when Riven turns around, Musa's face is different, and she's lacing up her other shoe on her own, so skilfully Riven suspects she never needed any help at all, and crap.

"You've met someone," Musa says, smile tight, tone light hearted. "That's great."

Riven looks at her. "Is it?"

"Well, sure it is," she laughs, "you didn't say. When did you guys meet?"

He wants to rip his hair out in frustration. Does she not care? Is this all a front? Does she want him to find someone else because she can read all his emotions and the fact that he's in fucking love with her is creeping her out? Is she jealous? "On Halloween, actually."

Her eyes flash to him and away again. Her voice sounds heart-broken when she says. "Oh."

He can't bear the sound of it. He reaches for her wrist, staring at her as if he could peer into that brain of hers and get just a glimpse at whatever's going on. "I was looking for her, but I'm not anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because she's not you."

Musa's breath hitches, and Riven's hand on her wrist gentles, and her fingers touch his arm. "Riven..."

"Do you? Even a bit?" He asks wretchedly, trying to brace himself for her disgust. For her to pull away. Or maybe she'd do it gently, full of kind words and understanding, and honestly he's not sure which he hates more. But he won't lash out. Not at her.

She laughs, a little watery, and she moves so their fingers are twined together. "I've liked you for ages, Riven," she admits, and his heart swells, when-

It all fucking slots into place.

"Jesus." He groans, pulling her hand to his and kissing it. "It was fucking you, on Halloween, wasn't it? I should've guessed." He's such a moron. Of course it was her, who else could it be? Who else could hold even a candle to what he feels for her?

Musa's eyes are owlish. "What do you mean?"

"You're the goddess. The purple one."

Her cheeks flame and she ducks her head. "You remember that?"

"I just told you I was looking for her!"

"For me?!" She squeaks, "I thought you'd hooked up with someone afterwards-"

He pulls her in for a hug and wraps his arms tight around her. Smells her hair and feels almost giddy. "You thought I didn't want you." He breathes, the thought unfathomable. Does she not know? Does she not know the depth of his desire for her?

"Well, I don't know," she says mulishly, her voice muffled into his chest. Her arms are looped around his neck, and she fits into him: small and perfect. "I wasn't sure if it was more than flirting."

"It was. It is." He promises, and they pull apart, and he feels shy, suddenly, under her shining eyes. "Show me." He pleads quietly, "project it."

She worries her bottom lip with her teeth, but nods. "Alright, but if I turn this entire class into an orgy, that's on you."

When the love wraps around him, it isn't a pulse of emotion. It doesn't feel like finger-tips tracing over his skin, like her joy does, it feels like something else. Like warmth. Like turning your face into a shining sun, or putting your frozen-hands above a fireplace. It's heady and endless and perfect.

"Ow," Musa pants, and the warmth disappears, and she's standing in front of him, rubbing her temples. "Did that work?"

He steps forward and kisses her, leaning down, emoting as much love as he can, hoping she can feel it in her mind, or from their kiss, hoping that she knows, finally, that he's been waiting for her just as long as she's been waiting for him. Maybe longer.

"Oh," she murmurs, pleased-as-punch, when they pull apart. And he laughs.

"Yeah. Oh." He brushes her hair out of her face, "what does it feel like? My love?"

He's not sure what he expects her to say. Something about a beautiful rainforest, or perhaps a landscape. Maybe something like what he felt from her: a warm, life-giving heat.

But instead, she leans up to kiss him again and she says:

"It feels like you."

[ajwrites52]

Batober Day 4-FEAR

(Set on a different Earth, please head to Ao3 to read the origin and background of this Batman. If interest is large enough, I might post some chapters over here on Tumblr.)

The chill October air sends shivers down the boy's spine. Most children the age of ten would be in bed, being tucked in by their parents. But not Jimmy Prescott, an absent father and a mother who worked nights, and the ten-year-old had nothing at home but an empty fridge. Like many boys in Gotham, he and the others found entertainment; this was probably the worst one ever devised. With only a flashlight in hand and the clothes on his back, Jimmy wandered into the cold and empty cemetery. He looks back at the gates, his seniors sitting on their bikes waving to him and pushing him to keep going. Biting his lip, he pressed on before stopping at the rusted fence and overgrown weeds that protected a closed-off part of the cemetery. 

"H-He's not real. He's just a story, that's it."

His trembling hand pried the gate open, the loud creaking of the hinges scaring a murder of crows to fly away, startling the young lad. He could hear his classmates laughing at him from a distance. He clenched his fist and shined his flashlight forward before entering the dark walkway towards the dilapidated and crumbling tombstone surrounded by rotten weeds. Jimmy shines the flashlight on the fallen golden plaque and reads it beneath his breath.

"Here lies Dr. Jonathan W. Cane. March 1635-1692. May his spirit forever lie in rest and never return."

He rummaged in his coat pocket and took a deep breath, his body quaking as he unfolded the slip of paper and set his phone to record. He stared at the broken grave and swallowed his fears before beginning to speak.

"Oh, dear Doctor Crane. Long may he reign. When the red roses bloom and the moon hangs in the air, shall your eyes open? When the crows cry out, and the land turns cold, shall you speak your first words?"

BRAKAKOOM!

He shakes as he stares up at the sudden arrival of storm clouds above him. He gulps before continuing with a shaky breath.

"When Gotham cries, and her children grow old and die. S-Shall your fingers grasp your scythe."

The second crash of thunder erupts in the sky, causing Jimmy to jump as cold raindrops begin to hit his head. He would turn back, but if he didn't bring back proof, he would be the victim of endless teasing and bullying by his compatriots. So, he continued.

"Will you stand up when the streets flood with lights and people? Will you take your first steps when your demonic servant takes flight in the night sky?"

The wind begins to whip around him, causing the drops of rain to feel like razor blades against the child's skin. He's now utterly terrified and wants to leave as soon as possible. 

'Screw this!' he thought. He grabbed his phone and crumbled up the paper before running for the exit. But the wind got stronger the farther he got from Crane's grave. He felt as if he was fighting nature itself as he got closer to the fence; the thunder roared and screamed in his ears while the lightning blinded him temporarily. Jimmy didn't know why, but every part of his body shouted to him three simple words.

"Don't. Turn. Around."

The hairs on his neck stood up as he ran faster than ever before. He felt something, some dark and horrifying thing behind him. He could hear it too; it had a voice like a cold blade scraping against his eardrums. He was almost there. But he then felt the wind whisper in his ears; it was that voice once again carried by the wind. He feels long, and skinny fingers wrap themselves around his neck while another grabs his left arm. A cold and boney presence places itself on his shoulder as he hears it whispers in his ear. 

"Don't turn around. Finish it."

Jimmy's eyes welled up with tears, his short life flashes before his eyes as he can feel his pants warming up upon him, soiling himself in fear. He wants to scream, to scream for help from his mother, who he wants to arrive and save him from this THING! 

"Finish it."

"I-"

"Finish it."

"Help."

"Finish it!"

"HELP! ANYONE!!"

"FINISH IT!!!"

He sobs and cries out, hoping that he'd be close enough for at least his friends to hear his pleas for help. But it was to no avail. No one was coming for him. Not his so-called friends. Not even his mother, who had no idea where he even was. He then felt himself being slowly dragged back towards the grave. The boy's body turns ice-cold as he nears the tombstone once again. He feels the claws of this creature pierce his neck and slither themselves into his esophagus. As he returns to the grave, he once again hears that same spine-tingling voice in his ear once more commanding him.

"Finish it."

So he did.

"M-Mr. Crane. Mr. Crane. When you stand and talk again, who will be your Scarecrow of fear before you disappear?"

Jimmy felt his vocal cords severed; he slowly held his throat. His hands feel something warm and wet. His torso follows the same sensation before his eyes look forward, only to find the graveyard gone and replaced by a dense, thick fog. Jimmy's tears hit the ground as something begins to form in the distance. A silhouette starts to form of a tall male figure walking towards him. His eyes widen as he recognizes the man. A feeling of elation and joy overwhelms him at the appearance of the tall, dark-haired gentleman dressed in a black cloak with a strange cowl with white eyes. The man removes the cowl and smiles, revealing a handsome gentleman's face with a kind smile.

"Hey, kiddo."

"D-daddy?"

Tears of joy now fall from Jimmy's cheeks as he holds out his arms for his father. The man smiles and embraces his son before whispering into the child's ear. 

"Why you, of course. You shall become my silent and strong Scarecrow while I walk the earth. For you shall show them all their true fears."

Jimmy freezes up, his father pulling away from the hug and looking at him with angry and hateful eyes. His father screams and shakes the young man, blood dripping from every orifice as he berates the young boy.

"I hate you! I HATE YOU! YOU USELESS BRAT! I LOST EVERYTHING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!"

Jimmy tries to defend himself, to understand as he feels himself sinking. He cries out to no avail. His father continues to bleed out before falling to his knees and screaming as Jimmy can do nothing but watch before falling into the grave of Dr. Crane. 

"Thank you, Scarecrow."

 His screams bounce against the seemingly bottomless pit before he can hit the metaphorical bottom. A large hand grasps onto Jimmy's wrists, holding him in mid-air, "Don't struggle." 

Jimmy could barely piece together descriptions of his savior, he couldn't tell where the shadows began, and the figure ended. All he could note was his piercing white eyes and the yellow light ruminating from his chest. His voice was gruff, almost like he was a monster, and his palm covered his whole wrist. 

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" 

The tunnel trembled and began to fall apart; Jimmy looked down at his feet and screamed at the horrors he saw below. The shadows of the abyss below glowed bright orange; from shadows emerged a colossal skull consumed in flames. Its fanged maw opened up, unleashing a giant tower of fire upwards. The apparition roared with an abhorrent and ear-shattering scream. 

"HE IS MINE!!!!"

"Hang on!" The dark figure unlatched itself from the walls, its wings unfurling as they took off upwards towards the closing gap. The heat hits their backs; they escape by a hair's breadth, crashing onto the muddy ground. "Ow." 

Jimmy's eyes open slowly as the rain hits his face; now looming over him was the exact dark figure that saved him earlier. Now freed from the abyssal darkness, Jimmy could sparse more precise details of his hero. The glowing circle on his chest held an Emblem in the shape of a bat; he discarded the burning black cloak that once decorated his back. A metal cross with a gold center and silver tip; his body was covered in grey armor. His waist and face were covered by a black cowl sporting elongated ears. His white eyes didn't seem human; they were cold and detached. 

"Get out of here. This place isn't safe." His voice was just as cold and harsh as in the tunnel. He glares at the pit, walking towards the place they just escaped from; he pulls the cross from his back and stiffens. That's when the ground beneath them shook with deadly fury, the earth cracked, steam and hellfire burst forth from the ground sending both flying away as he emerged from the grave. 

"THAT BOY IS MINEEEE!!!!!"

His roar ruptured the sky and summoned a ferocious storm. The sickening orange glow illuminated the area as Batman glared at the light. 

"HE SPOKE THE ENCHANTMENT! HE BROUGHT FORTH MY POWER! HIS FEARS FEED ME!!!" 

Jimmy could no longer scream, the sensation of his lunch evacuating his body prevented as he looked upon Crane's indescribable horrific visage. His fingers, long like needles jutting out his bony wrists, his torso was nothing more than a ribcage with little to no skin attached to it and shackles attached to his arms and neck. But what would never leave the child's mind were his eyes. 

A skull covered by a burlap sack, sharp fangs in place of normal human incisors, and black voids with burning crimson embers in the area of eyes. Crane emerged from the grave, towering over them both like a giant while screaming in anguish and rage. His wide mouth tearing parts of the bag, revealing rotten skin underneath and long grey hairs. 

"YOU CANNOT TAKE HIM FROM ME!!! THE CONTRACT IS SEALED, AND HIS FEARS SHALL BE MINE!!" 

Batman spat on the ground and clenched the cross in his gloved right hand; in his other, he pulled out four Bat-Shaped daggers to hold in between his fingers.

"Bold of you to think that I actually care. You're not taking that child or anyone, Crane." 

His screams were unholy. He slammed his bony palm into the ground sending shockwaves towards man and child. With a click, the silver tip of his cross fired outwards like a bullet, a chain acting as a cable. It wrapped around the boy's leg and pulled him towards the cowled man as they crashed onto a nearby clearing. Jimmy's breath became erratic, and his tears ran down his already wet cheeks. His eyes glazed over as he could only mutter words in a language lost to modern ears. Batman groaned in pain as he carried Jimmy behind a nearby gravestone, hiding them from Crane's wrath.

"Damn it. C'mon kid. Wake up and snap out of it!" He shook the boy by the shoulders, quickly rummaging through one of the pouches on his belt for aid. He placed a paper talisman against the boy's forehead and pressed his thumb, causing the slip to glow and burn with a bright yellow light. Instantly, color returns to Jimmy's skin as he quickly exhales another round of bile. "Good. You're out of the trance. Jimmy, right?"

"W-What's going on?" asked Jimmy, fighting the words out in between sobs. The boy is hoisted up onto his feet, with Batman placing a charm in the boy's hands. 

"No time for questions. Listen to me, run to the gate and place the charm on the outside. Then say these in this order, never break it or stop. And whatever you do, don't look back!"

"B-But," Batman pulled him close, whispering the chant into his young ears before pushing away. With little to no hesitation, he leaped over the grave, chain whip in hand. 

"No buts. NOW GO!" Jimmy trembled as he cowered behind the headstone. The sounds of battle raging on behind him, Crane's screaming and roaring burrowing into his eardrums. Clutching the charm to his chest, he bolted forward, screaming with his full breath. 

"JIMMY! JIMMMMMYYYYYYY!!!!!! Don't YOU RUN FROM ME!!!"

Jimmy screamed louder to ignore the ghouls' cries. He felt the ground distort and change around him; each drop of rain felt like another weight being added onto him. His legs wobbled, and his breathing became raggedy.

"KEEP GOING!" Screamed Batman from the battlefield. Jimmy pushed forward, ignoring the pain in his body as he neared the gate. 

"Jimmy?" 

His body froze; still, his blood went cold as he trembled in place. A feminine voice wormed its way into his ears. It was kind, concerned, and all-around comforting. "Jimmy? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be home!"

"M-Mom. I-" his words clung to his throat; every synapse in his brain screamed at him to keep running, but his legs refused to move. 

"I work day and night! Slave over a hot stove to feed you! And here you are, doing god knows what! HERE! WHAT ABOUT YOUR BROTHER! GOD! WHY MUST YOU CONSTANTLY DISAPPOINT ME!!!" 

Her once kind voice fell apart at the arrival of a sinister and distorted cracked tone. Like nails on a chalkboard, she continued her ravings, getting ever closer to the boy. "I SHOULD'VE LEFT YOU ON THE STREET WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE! YOU' IRRITATING CANCER ON MY LIFE!!!"

Her rants continued, even more, causing Jimmy to fall to his knees in terror. He was done. This was all too much for one boy to go through. He-he should've just surrendered himself to Crane and saved himself and others the pain, but before he could turn around to accept his fate. One of Batman's daggers flew past him, nipping his cheek and snapping him out of the trance. In the reflection of the blade, he saw Batman lunging at the giant Scarecrow avoiding every attack. 

"KEEP GOING!" he yelled from the battlefield. Jimmy clenched his teeth, and despite every molecule in his body yelling at him. He ran forward, ignoring Crane's grip on his soul as he grabbed hold of the rusty gate and slammed the paper charm against it. With a deep breath, he screamed out the command given to him by Batman. 

"Through the murky waters and misty woods, I cast this spirit out of this infernal boon. I renounce your evil power and hold. I remove your binding from my soul! Jonathan Crane, I demand your soul leaves this place! I remove your brand and fear you NO MORE!!!!"

BRAKAKAKOOOM!!!!!!

A bright white light blinded Jimmy, its light burned his shirt, and he felt what felt like lightning strike every cell in his body. As he flew back from the explosion, the world fell apart around him into a bright orange void. He turned around, and all he saw was the burlap sack containing Crane's face burned away, and his natural face was revealed to his former victim. 

His hollow eyes released a waterfall of blood and tar, and his mouth released curses in a language, not even he could parse. The demon's face opened its maw and flew towards Jimmy, cackling as it attempted one last time to claim the boy's soul. 

"NOT TODAY!!" 

Before he could swallow the boy whole, Batman descended with his cross in hand, unleashing the bladed tip with the chain. He slammed his weapon in between Crane's eyes, cracking the skull apart and unleashing a bright and unholy white light. Jimmy screamed, only to be scooped up in Batman's arms as the two were engulfed in the explosion.

"Yo, Jimmy. You okay?"

Jimmy opened his eyes and screamed as he fell to the dirty floor. He scanned the area, finding himself surrounded by his former friend as they stood before the gate. The Batman was nowhere in sight and not a sign of Crane. The scratch on his cheek was no longer there nor the charm he'd used to defeat the demon. 

"I-I gotta go home." With little hesitation, Jimmy rode off home. A new sense of vigor in his veins as he left the cemetery. The remaining boy's began to ponder and eventually mock Jimmy's quickness. Still, they too fled in droves as they finally took notice of the large black and grey figure that loomed over them draped in a long black cape. His white eyes sent fear deep into their souls as they evacuated the area in haste. 

"Good. And stay out." He said. Batman Batman turned to the site of the paranormal he stood in moments earlier. He placed a small blue gem within the lock of the gate; within seconds, the gate crackled and resonated with an electric blue aura. It hummed before going silent, forever. Batman smirked and turned away, vanishing into the night to his next battle against the monsters in the night. 

-THE END-

[flatstarcarcosa]

favors and heists

notes: i gave myself brain worms while roping @dadbodsandbots into my mass effect insert shenanigans by using her mans so I had to shake some of them loose. this turned out to be kinda fun, actually, for a change :3

also tags @jackals-ships while making pspspsps noises

summary: what's the point of your best friend dating a galaxy-renown mercenary if not for the favors you can squeeze out of the deal?

or

zaeed takes a charity case.

ship(s): stubborn goddamn jackasses, cat/digs (boomcat? harcat?)

******

The door alarm has been chiming for four minutes. Pressing the override button on his omni-tool shuts it off for a few scarce seconds, only for whoever is outside to activate it again. Finally, Zaeed gives up on ignoring it and wrenches the damn thing open manually. The metal squeals in protest before the hydraulics correct themselves.

"The hell do you want?" he asks, frowning. Cat stands in the door way with barely contained tears in her eyes.

"My final thesis is due next week and the whole argument hinges on this 18th century painting and-"

"Dooooon't care," Zaeed drawls as he goes to manually pull the door shut again. She lunges forward, getting a shoulder and half a leg across before the safety catch feels an obstruction and stops.

"-and it got stolen and if I have to report it to my boss I'm not only gonna fail the program but I'll never work in this industry again!" she blurts. Zaeed has already turned his back towards her and is cussing at his omni-tool's refusal to force the door shut.

"Don't caaaaaaaaare," he says.

"You gotta help me get it back!" she cries, "That fucking asshole Harkness stole it and if he gets too far I'll never see it again!"

Zaeed stops, shoulders sagging. He holds up a finger and turns.

"When you say Harkness-"

"Yeah, Digger," Cat sniffs. "You know, Captain Boom-"

"Will willingly shoot my other eye out before I call him that, thanks," says Zaeed. He goes silent for a moment, and then lets out a frustrated growl and runs a hand over his face. "All right, fine. But only because I've still got a grudge against that jackass I've been meaning to settle."

She looks up, elation flashing across her face.

"Really?! I mean, I can hire you, too, so-"

Zaeed snorts.

"You don't make near enough to hire me," he says. "Especially not if you want him alive, although honestly, that part isn't up to you." He steps out of sight into the other room, and Cat wanders into the kitchen to blow her nose on a wad of paper towels.

"Where was he last?" Zaeed asks.

"I mean, my office," she calls back. He steps back around the corner, the top half of his armor undersuit hanging around his waist.

"I meant where was he before he stole the painting?"

"Oh!" she pauses. "I...dunno, some hotel down on Silversun."

Zaeed hums, and pulls his arm through the sleeve on his suit. He drags a footlocker over to the sofa and plops down, bending over to unlock the lid.

"How'd Harkness get into your office, anyway?" he asks. "It's not exactly publicly accessible."

"Uh- I...I don't know," she stammers, "he's a thief, that's what he does!"

Zaeed quirks an eyebrow at her as he laces his boots.

"Uh-huh," he says. "And he just happened to have decided to specifically case your office for one painting..."

"Yeah."

"Your office, which is in a moderately secured area in the Citadel Tower," he continues. He raises an eyebrow at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"Yeah," she says again, voice tight. "Why?"

"No reason," he says. Motorized armor joints lock into place with mechanical whirring, and she watches him strap a pistol and a sniper rifle in place. "Here's the thing, if he's already jumped ship and left the Citadel, I'm not chasing him all over. This lasts until I decide the amusement isn't worth the lack of money. Matter of fact, you knowing Reese is the only reason I didn't tell you to fuck off and throw you out."

"A fact which I am heavily aware of," says Cat.

"Long as we're on the same page," says Zaeed. "Might as well wait here, I doubt this is gonna take too long."

"Hey," says Cat, "wait a second. How do you know him, anyway?"

Zaeed clicks his tongue.

"Got unlucky enough to be on a job with him once," he says. "Stupid little fuck nearly got me killed. Spent four weeks healing from that."

"Oh," she says.

"Granted, wasn't the same as getting half my face blown off," he adds, "but it was still enough that I've had it in for him ever since."

"You're not actually going to kill him, are you?" she asks. Zaeed shrugs as the door slides open.

"That depends on him, love," he says.

"Oh," she says. Before she can get another word out, Zaeed steps into the hall and leaves her alone. She sighs and sits down on the sofa. "Well, that's just fucking great."

******

It takes less than five hours to track Harkness down. After checking out of his hotel earlier that morning, he'd stuck around the Silversun Strip rather than booking a flight off the Citadel.

For some reason that Zaeed can only chock up to the man being an absolute fucking idiot, he didn't consider that wandering around with a medium sized painting under his arm was going to make him stick out to the residents.

Only on the Silversun Strip would one get away with that without C-Sec getting called and dropping down on your ass. Try it up on the Presidium and every rich asshole with a penthouse would be ringing the emergency numbers for 'suspicious activity' while triple locking their doors.

Tucked away in a back alley and away from the main attractions of the Strip is a little pawn shop run by, who Zaeed assumes, are the only Batarians to have a permanent residence on the Citadel. There's an old fashioned bell hanging above the door and it jingles when he walks through. It catches his attention for a moment, and he glances up at it, wondering where the aliens picked up that detail about human stores.

Behind the sales counter, a bored looking Batarian is standing with his arms crossed over his chest and glowering with all four eyes at the man in front of him.

"Come on mate," says the Australian. He's leaning over the painting, so focused on his attempts at hocking it that he either didn't hear the door bell, or isn't interested enough to turn around. Zaeed catches the gaze of the sales clerk, and holds a finger to his lips.

"I said no," the Batarian growls, looking back at the would-be customer.

"All right, fine, screw giving me what it's worth," the man continues, "we'll settle for 60% and then I can be on me way."

"You think I'm so stupid or naive I don't know stolen merch when I see it?" asks the Batarian. "I know enough about you humans and your squabbles to know there's no amount of credits worth getting involved in this kinda shit.

"Harkness, why don't you do something useful and stop pestering this poor Batarian?" Zaeed asks, interjecting only when he's close enough to Digger Harkness that the sound of his voice makes the man jump. "Bad enough the poor bastard has to walk around looking like that every day of his life, he doesn't need you coming in here and cocking everything up for him."

The Batarian sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Is it asshole human day today and no one told me?" he asks. "Oh wait, I suppose that's every day, isn't it?"

"Goddamn right it is," Zaeed says. Harkness turns around, nervousness clear on his face.

"Zaeed," he says, slowly, "well, I'll be...funny running into you out here, eh?" He reaches behind himself, fumbling his hand across the counter as he searches blindly for the painting. Zaeed is faster, and snatches it out from under him.

"Lets go," he says, gesturing towards the door. "You know why I'm here."

"Aw, c'mon-" Harkness' protest is cut short by Zaeed grabbing his wrists and slapping a pair of electrified cuffs on them. He shoves the man forward, and then tosses a credit chit down onto the counter.

"You see a couple of human males today?" he asks the Batarian. The alien grunts, considering him for a moment before reaching down and snapping up the chit.

"Been a slow day, I haven't seen anybody," he says, shrugging. Zaeed nods.

"Good man," he says. He shoves Harkness towards the door again. "Get moving."

The bell above the door rings as the two leave, and Harkness turns, walking backwards with his arms locked in front of him as he addresses Zaeed.

"Well, I'm simply stumped," he says, "can't for the life o' me figure who I pissed off enough to hire you." Zaeed says nothing, and simply motions with his pistol for him to keep walking.

Harkness faces foward and catches sight of the skycar parked at the end of the alley. It's not the best area to try and make a mad dash for freedom, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna give it a go.

"How'd you even get into the Citadel Tower to get a hold of something like this, anyway?" Zaeed asks, holding the painting up to get a good look at it. He's never understood fuck all about art and it's not one of those especially famous pieces that he'd even recognize anyway, so he doesn't bother theorizing on why it's so important to Cat's thesis.

"Oh, you know," says Harkness, "made a friend."

"Find that hard to believe," Zaeed drawls as he tucks the painting back under his arm.

"Oi, I'm quite suave when I want to be!" Harkness stops walking again, turning with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Though, some people are just easier to woo."

"Yeah, that sounds more like you, doesn't it?" Zaeed narrows his eyes. "Making a mark out of some poor girl that always sees the best in people."

Harkness blinks.

"Hang on," he breathes, "how do you know that? Don't tell me she's the one that hired you!"

"Course not," Zaeed snorts, "like I told her, she can't afford to hire me. This is a favor for a friend."

"Well shit mate! In that case, why don't you an' I work out a deal, yeah?" The grin is back, and Zaeed makes a point of ignoring him as he opens the skycar door and lays the painting in the back seat. "You ain't on an official contract, I see no reason why you an' I as two consummate professionals can't come to some sort of arrangement that benefits us both!"

"There's an exhaustive list of reasons why that won't be happening," Zaeed says, crossing his arms. "At the top of which is simply the fact that I can't goddamn stand you."

"Fair enough," says Harkness, "But Zaeed, come on, mate! As it happens right now, you're not making any money on this! That's a problem for you, and I can fix that real easy. You just slip these bracelets off me, let me be on my merry way, and recoup credits for your time. Anyone asks, I was too slippery to get a hold of, we all move on."

"No," Zaeed says. "Get in the goddamn car before I knock you out and shove you in the trunk."

Harkness groans, and bounces on the balls of his feet in frustration.

"Come on," he says again, "we both know at the end of the day lining your pockets is the only thing you really care about, so why don't you-"

Zaeed lunges faster than a half blind old merc has any right to move, and Harkness lets out a strangled yell as he punches him in the kidney with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He's wheezing as Zaeed shoves him into the alley wall, hanging onto him by the collar of his coat and lifting him off the ground.

"Listen to me, you stupid fucking jackass," Zaeed growls, "I'm not remotely young enough or stupid enough to not know exactly how you got access to Cat's office. That girl is the only person Reese knows that isn't a killer or a junkie or some fucked up combination of both, and the last thing she needs is to be caught up with likes of you and I."

Harkness says nothing as he gasps again, and waits on his lungs to remember how to take in air.

"I care about her well-being for my own selfish reasons because of her proximity to Reese, and I recognize that doesn't put me in a position of dictating to her who she spends her time with," Zaeed continues, "but so help me, you cause so much as a minor inconvenience for her and I will carve out your goddamn eyes, sew your mouth shut and sell you to Batarians as discounted slave labor, are we goddamn clear?"

Harkness manages half of a choked, garbled word and gets his head bounced off the wall for his effort.

"That didn't sound like a yes to me," Zaeed growls.

"Y-yes," he says. Zaeed slams him against the wall once more for good measure before dropping him.

"Get in the goddamn car."

******

The rental apartment Reese and Zaeed have been staying in isn't much to come home to. Far from the worst place they've ever holed up, sure, but that's never been a very high bar to begin with.

Regardless, as he pushes Harkness through the doorway and pauses long enough to set the painting down on an end table, he does reflect on the warm lightning in the corners and the smell of a beef roast being pulled out of the oven.

It's temporary and it's barely big enough for the two of them to move without tripping over each other, but it is home.

"You found it!" Cat appears in the archway to the kitchen, and Reese looks up over the counter. Their eyes glance between Zaeed and Harkness and the painting, and they quirk an eyebrow in his direction. Zaeed responds with a subtle shake of his head.

Later, he mouths, reaching up to undo the clasps on his armor.

"Wasn't too much trouble," he says aloud. "Helps when you're being sent after a goddamn moron. I should take more offers like this, actually."

"Caaaaaat," Harkness purrs. He goes to hold out his arms, and stops when he meets the resistance from the cuffs. She bypasses him entirely to scoop up the painting and make sure it hasn't been damaged.

"You know, on a hunch I looked into something on the way to the Strip," Zaeed says casually. "C-Sec has multiple active bounties on him at the moment. Cashing in on just one of them would likely pay more than, well...whatever it is you even do currently."

Harkness lets out a nervous laugh and looks between Zaeed and Cat. She sets the painting down and regards him for a moment.

"Right now I'm more worried with getting this back before anyone notices it was gone," she says, causing Harkness to puff up slightly. He winks at Zaeed, only to stop at the look the other man sends his way. "It's unlucky for me the building is locked down for the day, though..."

"Sounds to me like you could use someone who knows his way 'round security systems," Harkness offers. Zaeed snorts, and Cat frowns. Silence stretches out for a moment, broken only by the sound of Reese turning on an electric carving knife.

"Okay, fine," Cat says when they've turned the knife back off. "But know that if we get caught, I'm telling them you kidnapped me and I can cry on command."

"Well now you're just talkin' dirty to me," Harkness says.

"Really?" Reese barks from the kitchen. "Some of us still gotta eat tonight."

Zaeed remains silent and utterly unreadable as he taps at his omni-tool. The handcuffs beep a few times before popping open and falling off. Harkness massages at one of his wrists, and manages to ignore the bait when Zaeed shoves into him on the way to the kitchen.

"If we leave now we should make it in and out without too much trouble," Cat says. Reese offers a wave.

"Call me when you get in," they say, "mostly so I know if anyone's gotta kill him later."

"Sure!" says Cat. She tucks the painting safely under an arm, and drags Harkness out into the hall by the collar of his coat. The door beeps as the automatic lock powers on, and Reese turns to lean against the kitchen counter.

"What?" Zaeed asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

Reese rolls their eyes and turns their attention back to the roast. "I leave for 20 minutes to get fucking dinner, and I swear to Christ..." they say, trailing off when Zaeed reaches around and snags a slice of beef.

"You do realize she's got absolutely horrid taste in men, right?" he asks. The top of the beer bottle pops with a resounding hssss, and he flicks it across the kitchen into the garbage can.

"Yeah, well, that's just something we got in common, I guess," Reese says.

"Oi," Zaeed protests. He takes a swallow of beer and reaches for another slice of meat, then stops. "Hang on, she can cry on command?"

"Yeah, fucking wild actually," says Reese. They frown. "Why?"

Zaeed is silent for a moment as he takes another sip of beer before answering.

"Goddammit."

[backtothestart02]

Just Best Friends - 2/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: So...I completely took out the Mardon side plot and everything Harrison Wells-related that was suspicious in 1x15. I'm all here for just the relationship dynamics and messy westallen. Enjoy! FYI: Most of this chap is just scenes from the ep expanded upon, so I hope you don't mind that. Happy reading!

...

Chapter 2 -

Eddie didn’t come home till late that night. Really late. Iris had gone to bed even, but the sound of him opening the door, his key in the lock, woke her from the in-and-out sleep she’d been experiencing. She expected him to come in and check on her, see if she was up, maybe tell her about his night and what had all gone on, if Barry had been of any help. She was sure he had. Maybe Eddie wouldn’t tell her that though. She had a gut feeling he wouldn’t.

At any rate, she expected him to at least come in the bedroom and say something.

He didn’t even try though. That’s when she knew that somehow she’d screwed up. He couldn’t just be tired. She heard him grab a beer from the fridge and collapse on the couch. She waited for him to come in to see her, but it never happened. She heard him sigh as he stretched out on the couch and kicked off his shoes.

She frowned and laid her head back on the pillow and waited. She waited a long time, long enough for her to get genuinely tired again and fall asleep.

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

There was no note, no breakfast even, nothing. She had definitely screwed up, and they needed to have a discussion pronto.

She went to work as usual, eyed Linda across the room and wondered if they would be as at odds as she and Eddie were. She focused as best she could on her work and made a point to head over to CCPD on her lunch break.

She found her dad, Barry, and Eddie all standing together. She easily hugged her dad and snuck in a nugget about wanting something to report about, but Eddie made a bee line for his desk as soon as she did, and she knew this couldn’t wait any longer. They had to talk.

Her dad and Barry made their exit, and she went straight to Eddie’s desk. Serious face on, reporter face even.

“Hey, ever since last night you’ve barely said a peep.” She took a seat on the side of his desk. “What is going on?”

“I didn’t like the way I felt watching you and Barry last night.”

At first she thought he was joking, and she cracked a grin…until it became obvious he wasn’t.

“Eddie, Barry, he’s just-”

“Like family.” He leaned forward. “I know.” He stood up. “And I know you two have a long history that predates me, but Iris, we live together. You’re my girlfriend, and someday hopefully, you’ll be more. I don’t like feeling like the odd man out every time you and Barry are together. I shouldn’t have to.”

“Eddie, Barry is always gonna be a part of my life.”

“I get that. But something’s changed between you two.”

I love you, Iris flashed before her eyes. Christmas. A confession that took her offguard. That still had her shaken to this day.

“Whatever that is,” he continued. “I am not okay with it.”

He moved past her, not attempting another word.

She sat there for a while, contemplating what he’d said and what it meant. Was he right? Had something changed between her and Barry? Did it have something to do with Barry’s confession? That had been weeks, if not months ago. It couldn’t still be affecting her like this. It shouldn’t. It wouldn’t.

She was determined to not let it. She could help whether it did or not…right?

Shaking the conversation off, she moved to leave the station. With her dad and Barry gone, along with Eddie, she had no intel for her stories and no one to eat lunch with. She might as well head back to CCPN and work through lunch. She could always snack on some food later after she’d made genuine progress.

Though how she was going to make things up to Eddie was still up in the air.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she stepped into the elevator and rode it down to the ground floor. Then she swiftly stepped outside and headed back to Central City Picture News. One thing she could focus on was work. There was nothing she could do about Eddie right now.

…

In the car during their lunch break, Barry felt a feeling gnawing at him. Guilt? Angst? Depression? Elation? He didn’t know, but he knew he had to talk to someone about it, and with Iris the center of his thoughts, he knew Joe was his only option. His only nearby option at the moment at least. And really his best option if the past had proved anything.

“Food was good, Bear, thanks for that,” Joe said, oblivious as to what was on Barry’s mind.

“Yeah, no problem. Felt like…time.”

Joe smiled and nodded.

Barry wrapped his hand around the back of his head as they walked and Joe immediately shot him a glare, which Barry neglected to notice.

“What is it?” Joe drawled.

“What?” Barry asked, immediately letting his arm fall to his side. “Nothing. It’s…nothing.”

“Come on, Bear, it’s me. I know you’re in love with Iris. I know…” he lowered his voice. “You’re the Flash. You can talk to me.”

And he knew he could. He’d been planning on it. He was just nervous about what his answers or advice would be. He was nervous about the whole situation actually.

“All right,” he said reluctantly. “I could use some advice.”

“Lay it on me.”

“You know, just…relationship stuff.”

“Oh, like, you mean that girl, Linda?” he asked, seemingly knowing exactly what was on his mind.

“No, actually, um…” Things with her were great. As far as he knew. He worried about that for a beat. “Iris,” he clarified. “Things between us have gotten a little…complicated again.”

Joe started to laugh.

“You’re asking your adopted father for advice about being in love with his daughter, who just so happens to be dating his partner.”

Barry looked away, shaking his head. He’d known it would sound worse out loud. He’d known it. But he had to tell somebody!

“I know, I know.”

Joe couldn’t stop laughing.

“Things have gone way past complicated,” he chuckled.

Barry strode on full speed ahead.

“Sometimes me and Iris have these moments.” Flashes of the night before at the bowling alley suddenly appeared before him. Her hand on his face…and then some. “And, when I’m looking into her eyes, it’s hard not to think that she’s feeling the same way I am.”

Joe managed to put away his remaining laughter.

“Look, you already told Iris how you feel, so unless she comes out and says she feels the same way, all you can do is hold on to those moments.”

It wasn’t anything that he hadn’t expected, but he still didn’t like that advice.

“Right, yeah, I know.” He hung his head.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“It’s all right, Joe.” He forced a smile. “Really.”

…

At CCPN, Iris was in the middle of a report when she felt her eyes start to droop. She was badly in need of some caffeine. Luckily, the station kept some tanks on stock at all times. She got up and headed straight for them on the opposite side of the room.

There was someone else there. She didn’t recognize who it was at first, then it hit her like a sledgehammer, and she felt dread well up inside her.

“Linda.” Trying to push past the nasty feeling, she scrambled for something to say. “Last night was…fun.” Though based off the girl’s current reaction and Eddie’s earlier, she was starting to think only she and Barry had thought so.

“Mhmm,” Linda said, noncommittally.

“Oh, yeah.” She moved aside as Linda gestured to wanting something on the other end of the table she was unintentionally blocking. “Look, I just wanted to apologize…”

Linda raised her eyebrows in ironic amusement. Iris didn’t see it.

“Apologize…?” She let the question hang.

Damn, she was really going to make this hard, Iris thought. She braced herself for what would come next.

“Well, for interrupting your date with Barry.”

That was a safe apology…right?

“I…I shouldn’t have done that, and…I’m sorry.”

Linda shook her head in disbelief, the possessiveness she’d felt the night before taking hold again.

“You know, Iris, when you told me that Barry had feelings for you, I thought it was just the typical weird crap that women do to each other.”

Iris couldn’t find a response to that. It had been the truth.

“But last night I realized…what you didn’t tell me and what’s kind of irritating is that you have feelings for him too.”

She was quick to deny it.

“N-No, Linda, I mean, it’s not like that.”

Linda could not be dissuaded, however.

“One thing you’ll hear about people when you work here, Iris. It’s usually what isn’t said that’s the real story.”

Linda walked away from her, not even really a glance back as she returned to her desk. Guilt weighed heavy on Iris, as did frustration. First Eddie and now Linda? Maybe she should talk to Barry. Maybe he could clear all of this up for her. She couldn’t be the only one who didn’t see what their significant others were seeing. She and Barry had just acted…well, like them.

Right?

…

When Iris called later that afternoon, Barry had picked it up immediately. He was off work now, and besides, it was Iris. When she asked to meet him, he got even more excited. She sounded concerned on the phone, and he knew that should worry him, but for some reason it didn’t. He was just looking forward to the meeting, to her having reached out. Up until recently they hadn’t seen much of each other, so it was nice…for once.

They saw each other outside of Jitters and raised a hand to acknowledge the other’s presence. They came together and walked inside after their respective greetings, heading straight for the barista in the center of the coffee shop.

Barry leaned against the counter as their orders were made.

“So, it sounded like something was kinda bothering you on the phone. Is everything all right?”

Iris hesitated divulging everything she was feeling but decided to go straight for the plunge.

“Yeah, I mean…the other night was fun, right?”

“Yeah,” he said assuredly. “Did Eddie have a good time?”

“Yeah,” she said instantly, though from their latest conversation she knew it was the farthest thing from the truth. “Linda?”

He shrugged helplessly. He hadn’t talked to her since. He’d kind of forgotten about her until Joe brought her up actually.

“I think so.”

Uneasily, Iris sat down at a high table.

“You don’t think we were too…you know?”

Barry thought back to Iris’ finger in his mouth and her legs splayed across his spread-out ones, and his heart started to race.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. If anything, he wanted more, wish she’d have done more. Would she do more while they were together? Right now? He could barely control his heartbeat.

“Okay, good,” Iris said with a laugh.

God, what he wouldn’t give to bottle up that laughter and keep it forever. It was intoxicating to listen to.

Iris swallowed.

“Actually, no, not good.”

He frowned.

“What…do you mean?”

“Eddie has been skittish since last night. When I talked to him about it today, he…and well, Linda too actually-”

“Linda talked to you?” he asked, and she could hear the nerves in his voice.

“I started the conversation, apologized for interrupting your guys’ date.”

“You didn’t interrupt the date, Iris. Not really. I mean, we were both there. It was a double date. It was fun. It would’ve been more weird if we were right next to each other and not interacting. Trust me.”

She winced.

“Maybe…either way, after talking with Eddie, I felt like I had to apologize. And…”

“What did she say?” he cut in, unable to help himself.

She blew a lock out of her face.

“She thinks I have feelings for you, and she’s pissed about it.”

It took him a minute to respond, then finally…

“Oh.”

“Yeah…obviously it’s not true.”

“Right.”

“It’s just the way we act when we’re together.”

“Of course.”

“Eddie thinks something’s changed. And he doesn’t like it either.”

“I see.”

She caught a glance at him and saw how he wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be unloading on you. I definitely shouldn’t be venting to you about my relationship problems. You were the one who told me you were over me. This is probably really upsetting to you, and irritating. Just like Eddie and Linda.”

She started to get up. Barry was quick to reach for her hand and pull her back to the table.

“Hey, no, Iris, I’m your best friend. If you can’t tell me stuff, who can you tell?”

She looked at him a bit pathetically before biting her bottom lip, fighting for what she definitely shouldn’t be saying right now. She looked down at their hands and rubbed her thumb over his fingers.

“Thanks, Barry.”

His shoulders relaxed.

“Of course.”

“I just don’t know what to do. I love Eddie, and I respect your relationship with Linda. How do I prove to them something that they’re certain isn’t true?”

He shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe just give them time? You don’t work directly with Linda, do you? I could talk with her in the meantime, set things straight.”

“No, I don’t want to ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I haven’t talked to her since last night. I’m sure one romantic night with her will put all of this to bed. Trust me.”

“And with Eddie? I live with him. I can’t just give him space. I refuse to let him sleep on the couch two nights in a row.”

“He slept on the couch last night?”

She nodded.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you that either.”

She put her head in her hands.

“God, I’m a mess.”

“Hey, no, you’re not.”

He rubbed her arms gently and she peeked through her fingers to look at him.

“Okay, maybe you’re a little bit of a mess.”

She scoffed.

“A lot bit,” she amended.

“Nah, def just a little bit.”

She snorted.

As much as he hated to suggest it, he put himself in the best friend shoes and forced the words out of his mouth.

“Why don’t you plan a romantic night with Eddie tonight too?”

She blinked. “Really?”

He nodded, forced a strained, “Yes.” He paused. “I mean, if it works for me and Linda, it should work for you two, right?”

“Right, yeah.”

She gripped both his hands and smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, Barry. I really appreciate it.”

He felt gutted, but he only nodded and smiled.

“Of course. Any time.”

[bethhxrmon]

passed down like folksongs, chapter six- steve x reader

[gif credit to @flyingrichardgrayson​]

chapter six- they say ‘move on’ but you know i won’t

series summary: Living in Hawkins was never easy for anyone. However, it becomes ten times more difficult than usual when you catch feelings for one Steve Harrington. What should be a simple schoolgirl crush ends up being complicated by your step-brother, Tommy Hagan, and the mysterious goings on in the town of Hawkins. [masterlist]

pairing: steve harrington x female! hagan! reader

chapter summary: Convinced there is nothing left for you to do, you spend a bulk of your time searching for Barbara Holland. A search that leaves you with nothing.

warnings: swearing, angst, the usual!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: Well, you can tell I was certainly going through it while writing this chapter <3 and because the steeb tag hates me *insert dudebro youtuber voice here* smash that like button and let me know what you think!

~*~*~*~

By the time March came around, you rarely got a few hours of sleep a night. You were trying to look for any sort of clues Barb may have left behind to be found. There had to be something. It was a long while ago since she left, but you didn’t have anything else to do in your free time. The last of your greenhouse ended up dying off and the winter was still going on at the beginning of the month. You would have to wait for weeks to try planting anything again.

You thought of every possible route at the bus station in the city, tracing lines all over a cheap map you bought at a gas station. It wasn’t that you thought it would be easy to do this, but you thought you would have had some type of lead by this point. As it turned out, you were by no means a great detective. 

Still, you had a couple of ideas, and you worked on that map all hours of the day and in any free moment you got. That meant some people saw you tracing a map of the country, but no one ever asked what it was for. Either because they thought you were crazy already or they truly couldn’t care less about what you were doing at this point.

If you had anyone to stop you, they probably would have by now. The one perk of not having any friends was that you could focus on anything else that you wanted to.

That was until Tommy and Carol caught onto what you were doing. They came up to you while you were in the library one day. You were starting to get a good feeling that Barb ran off to Chicago. That just sounded right.

“What’ve you got there?” Tommy asked.

You were quick to try and fold the map shut, but Carol snatched it up, “She’s probably planning to run away.”

“I’d give you the money to get the hell out of here,” Tommy said with a laugh.

You shook your head, “I’m not running away.”

“Then what’re you doing?” Carol asked.

Tommy was quick to put everything together, “She’s looking for Barb! Hawkins Police couldn’t do it so she thinks she can!”

“Oh, sweetie, maybe we should take care of this for you. You’re never gonna find her and I think we all knew that,” Carol said, starting to rip the map.

You leapt up to get it out of her hands, “No, stop! You can’t do that!” “You’re gonna drive yourself crazy looking at this all day. I’m doing you a favor, Y/N,” Carol said, tugging it back.

You tried to pull it back, putting a massive rip in the paper, “What did you just do?!”

“We did you a favor. Come on, you didn’t think she was actually going to come back, did you? She left and she doesn’t wanna be found. Deal with it,” Tommy said with a shrug.

Carol looked over the half of the map she took, “I think I’m gonna use this to start a fire when I get home. Thanks for the kindling, I might use all the dried up shit in your garden next.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from crying when they walked off with the other half of the map. They weren’t wrong, that was the worst part. You knew that there was no way you could find her on your own, but you had to try. Didn’t you?

A part of you wished that Barb had said something about running away before. Except, she never even talked about getting out of Hawkins any time soon. There were a few places she wanted to go to college after graduation, but she didn’t have her heart set on anything. You wished that she had a place she obviously loved to go to.

You hoped that she figured out that place and that wherever she was that she was happy. That was all you could do. Unless you went all the way to that bus station yourself and asked anyone who was there if they had seen Barb. The police may have done that, but they didn’t know Barb as you did. Maybe what led nowhere to them would give you something to grasp at. 

While you didn’t have a car, you did have a bike. That would just have to do. The city was a long while away, but no one would really notice if you were gone for that long. At least, you would be able to buy yourself enough time to get to the station and ask some people what they had seen all those months ago. You could only hope that someone remembered her.

It was simple enough to leave the school. No one batted an eye as you went through the front doors and got on your bike. After that, you were off. In a way, it was the closest thing to feeling okay that you had felt in a long time. There was just something about the cool air hitting your face as you pedaled.

Although, that feeling of slight elation only lasted so long. Your legs started to burn while you were somewhere on the side of the highway. A part of you wanted to stop and hitchhike, but that felt too risky. It was either turn around or keep going. You had to keep going. No one else was looking for Barb so it had to be on you. 

That thought was enough to keep you pedaling as hard as you ever had before. At least, until you felt a pedal go out from under one of your feet and heard it clatter on the road.

You skidded to a stop as you clutched your brakes. A swear left your mouth as you tried to twist it back onto your bike. All you had on you was your backpack. It didn’t have anything that would help, so you used your hands to screw it back on and went on your way again.

How long you were off for was beyond you. It never occurred to you that your bike wasn’t meant to go quite so far like this. Though, that realization hit you like a bus when you heard an odd noise and one of your bike tires flattened.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you muttered and looked over your bike.

This, without a shadow of a doubt, sucked. You were never going to find Barb and all anyone was ever going to think was that you were crazy. Maybe you were but at least you didn’t give up like everyone else had.

Around that same time, Steve had gotten into a bit of an argument with Nancy. It was over everything with the Upside Down, because it always was. He loved her and wanted to be there for her, but it was hard to do when she wouldn’t tell him how she felt. 

It wasn’t the worst fight they had, not by a long shot, but he went on a drive to clear his head, getting on the highway to do so. That’s when he saw you, standing on the side of the road, staring at your bike as though if you stared at it for long enough, it might just fix itself. Having not seen Steve’s car, you were pretty sure this was the part where you walked home.

What were you even going to say? How could you explain that you were biking to Indianapolis? Your mom would freak out and Tommy would have a field day. You were so screwed.

You jumped when you heard a car grind to a stop almost right next to you. For a moment, you thought you were in one of those dumb horror movies where the girl had to run away from a crazed murderer. However, you would have recognized Steve’s BMW just about anywhere. In a way, this was the second-worst option.

“Hey, uh, do you need a ride?” Steve asked.

You pursed your lips and nodded, “Yeah, I- I guess I do.”

“Get in, I’ll get your bike.”

“I can get it.”

“I got it, just sit down,” Steve insisted.

You couldn’t argue too much with him, so you got in the passenger seat of his car. He probably thought you were crazy too. Not that you cared all that much about what he thought or what he had to say about anything.

Steve didn’t complain or make any snide comments as he just barely managed to get your bike in the back of his car. Then again, saying hurtful things right off the bat wasn’t quite his style. You just hoped that the drive back could stay as quiet as things currently were.

However, you didn’t have much luck with that as he got back on the road. He kept driving away from Hawkins.

“I thought you were taking me home.”

“Is that where you were headed?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Well, no, but-”

“Where were you going?”

“You’re gonna laugh.”

Steve glanced at you, “I promise I won’t laugh. What is it? Were you trying to run away?”

“No, that might’ve been a better idea, though… um, I was trying to look for Barb,” it was dead quiet and you were quick to continue on, “I- I thought maybe I could get to that bus station in Indianapolis where they found her car and that maybe someone saw her and might’ve remembered where she went to.”

The car was still quiet and Steve knew he had to say something. He wanted to tell you everything, but he couldn’t bring himself to. You’d never believe him anyhow.

He sighed, “Do you still wanna go?”

“I- I can get there myself.”

“I think you got a flat tire. What were you even gonna do?”

“Well, I guess I’d walk or hitchhike if I had to. There’s gotta be something there.”

“Do you actually think you can do better than the police have?” he asked.

You shrugged, “They gave up and they don’t know her. Maybe I’d have better luck. A- and even if I don’t, I have to try. I don’t have another choice. Tommy took all the work I’ve done so far and I can’t just start from scratch again.”

“Y/N, don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you think that if she were still around someone would have found her by now?” he asked.

The truth was, you had thought of that. You thought of it so many times, but you couldn’t accept it. Barb had to be out there somewhere. If she wasn’t then your best friend was dead and, in a way, it was your fault. It was easier to bike all the way to Indianapolis and back than accept that.

You stared at your hands folded in your lap, “I- well, it’s worth looking, isn’t it? No one else is, it’s like everyone’s forgotten that she disappeared. And if I don’t do this, then no one else will. I- I know it’s crazy and stupid, but I have to try looking.”

“You just wanted to talk to some people at a bus station?” Steve asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, that’s all, you don’t even have to go around with me. I mean, if you ever thought that you were going to take me there.”

“I don’t have anything better to do,” he said, “And I’m not letting some serial killer pick you up in their car either.”

Steve knew that if he didn’t take you that you would try this all over again. And when you did, he wasn’t sure that you would get any help if your bike broke down. He knew there wasn’t going to be anything where you were looking, but he couldn’t say that. Maybe it would be easier to let you figure it all out for yourself. That was his theory.

The car ride was mostly quiet. You didn’t ask what he was doing on the highway. He was probably just driving around to think. You knew he liked to do that. Steve turned on the radio so the silence wouldn’t get too awkward.

You did get a chance to go to the bus station and ask a couple of employees if they had ever seen Barb. None of them even recognized her name or appearance. It was a dead end. She must have really wanted to be gone. You wished that someone would tell you why.

Steve knew that when you didn’t find anything, you wouldn’t take it well. That didn’t make it any easier to see you just on the verge of tears when you got back in the car. He knew better than to ask if you found anything out. That felt like such a cruel thing to ask.

“They’ve never seen her before,” you said softly as you sat in the passenger seat, “It’s like Barb was trying to just disappear without a trace.”

Steve kept his eyes on the road, “It’s been a few months, they see a lot of people.”

“I know, but this feels more and more hopeless. And now I feel like I really have to find her because I’ll just look even crazier if I don’t,” your voice cracked, “I just wanna know what I did wrong.”

Steve winced a little, “Nothing, you didn’t do anything wrong. Whatever happened with her, it’s not your fault.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. I know you won’t believe me, and maybe you shouldn’t, but this isn’t on you and you don’t have to fix all of this either.”

“I’ve put too much time into this to stop now. My garden’s totally gone because I kept forgetting to water it, I don’t have any friends, Tommy never gives me a break anymore, everything’s just getting worse and worse and I can’t stop it,” you let out a sob, burying your head in your hands.

Steve pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car, “Hey, it’s gonna get better.”

“You don’t know that! I’m the one who’s been dealing with all of this on my own and it’s not going back to normal. You were right, okay? Maybe I should just give up.”

“I told you, I shouldn’t have said that. And maybe things won’t go back to how they were earlier, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t get any better. Things can change. You can plant another garden soon. Maybe that’s a place to start.”

You shrugged, “What’s the point if it’s all just gonna die off?”

“Don’t you like it? I mean, I guess I don’t know what you like anymore, but you always seemed to like that sort of stuff before.”

“I do… I just don’t like it as much as I used to. I don’t really like anything all that much anymore. All I’ve had for months now is looking for Barb and I can’t even do that right,” you buried your head in your hands, “Sorry, this isn’t your problem.”

Steve frowned and put a hand on your shoulder, “Maybe it’s not, but I still care about you. You know it’s okay that you can’t find Barb, right? She’s been missing for months and no one’s found her. Including people who actually know what they’re doing.”

“But no one else is looking for her! Hopper said it’s a cold case and that’s just such bullshit! He gave up on her just like everyone else and I can’t do that to her. She wouldn’t have done that to me.”

“But maybe it’s time for you to start moving on,” he paused in case you were going to argue and then continued, “I don’t mean you have to forget about her, but I don’t think Barb would want you to tear yourself apart trying to find her.”

You nodded, “Maybe you’re right.”

A part of you still desperately longed to push Steve away, knowing that nothing good could come from letting him back in, but you couldn’t do that right then. Not when he was actually being helpful. You still couldn’t figure out why he would take you all that way and back without batting an eye. Maybe Nancy made him a more considerate person or something like that.

By the time Steve pulled up to your house, it was already past dinner time. You knew that, but you were still glad Steve got you home either way. Though, you were still trying to piece together a good excuse for being out so long in your head.

When you walked in, your mom rushed right to the entrance of the house, “Where have you been?!”

“Um, I was studying at school and lost track of time. I was biking home and my bike got a flat so I had to walk the whole way back,” you explained.

Your mom let out a sigh, “Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t think about it,” you said weakly.

Tommy’s dad walked in, “How were you at school when Tommy said you ditched the last half off the day?”

You stared at the floor, “I um… I- okay I wasn’t at school, I was riding around, I needed a break away from everything.”

“Oh, you need a break from your failing classes?” he asked, “What could you possibly need to get away from? You never do anything. What do you even do while you should be at school?”

“Nothing,” you said, clenching your jaw.

Your mom glared at him, “There’s a plate for you in the oven.”

You took that as your cue to get out of the entryway and go to the kitchen. Why did Tommy have to say anything about you? A part of you wished that he would just ignore you. That had to be better than everything he had done lately.

While you made sure your food was warm, you could hear the arguing just the next room over. It was about you and you didn’t need to catch any of the words to know that. Who else could they be talking about? They were arguing and it was your fault. Maybe Steve was wrong about things getting better.

Once your dinner was heated up, you went straight to your room to eat. You caught a glimpse of your phone and had half a mind to pick it up. Except, who in the world were you about to call? The only person you could think of was Steve and you felt like you unloaded enough on him for a lifetime. This was simply something that you would have to take care of on your own. You could do that. You had done that every single day for the last few months.

After you finished your dinner that night, you figured out what you were going to try to plant in your greenhouse for the spring.

taglist: @flyingrichardgrayson​ @holidayharringtons​ @scooprtroopr​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ (if you’d like to be added, lemme know <3)

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

(Romanced) Companions baby-sitting Shaun for the first time.

(They didn't really have to be romanced for this one but it just seemed like a nice sentiment.)

Cait:

She really doesn’t mean anything by it, but the first time you leave her and Shaun alone she is fantastically scared. Be it because shaun is a synth or just because the weight of the responsibility suddenly sits on her shoulders. She quickly realizes that this alone time with Shaun is very valuable though. A piece of her even becomes strangely sympathetic, realizing the kid probably just wanted to have a complete family with his mommy/daddy and her. So before she even knows what’s going on, she finds herself playing in the makeshift backyard outside your house with Shaun and dog meat, finding true happiness.

Curie:

Curie is automatically elated at even the thought getting to spend some quality time with the boy. Though she was careful, she considered Shaun her son from the moment you introduced him to her. Let’s be honest, Curie is a natural at taking care of the boy. Probably the best to be honest. They have a really good time, playing an old blast radius board game you found and so on. Shaun can’t help but behave with her too, even going to bed with no fuss the second the little synth mentions bed time. Overall him and Curie go together really well, alleviating any past apprehensions you may have had about leaving him with the scientist.

Danse:

The notion of being left alone with his adopted son scared Danse more than anything. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to bond with the child, after all Danse was rather quick to consider him his own, his anxiety was more or less caused by the fear of screwing up something. Yeah, he has interacted with the squires on the airship before but none of them were his. What if he runs out of things to talk about? What if Shaun starts misbehaving? God forbid Shaun somehow got hurt, what the hell was he doing to do? Sure he knew how to dress wounds and such but admitting something like that happened under his watch? The thought made the Paladin want to tear his hair out. Much to Danse’s relief, his fears were for naught. Shaun really likes danse, asking his new father all about his power armor and his laser rifles and..well, anything the young boy could think of. This made Danse very happy. By the time you got home, Danse was in the garage with the young boy- teaching him all about how to repair lord knows what and getting Shaun to hand him tools as he demonstrated.

Deacon:

Surprising both himself and you, him and Shaun quickly become besties in their bonding time. Being left alone with the spy was actually really good for Shaun, and Deacon. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Deacon was scared to get too attached to your son, scared to accept him as his own but now? He couldn’t imagine it any other way. They played hide and seek, pulled some tasteful pranks on poor unsuspecting settlers and over all just had a really good time.

Gage:

In all honesty, Gage was scared shitless. If not for the strangeness or taking care of a child for the first time in his life, it was also the vulnerability of being left alone for the kid to judge him. Without you there as a buffer...Surely his adoptive son couldn’t think too highly of his “pa” being a raider..could he? The thought of him disapproving of gage made the old raider hurt in a way he both didn’t like nor think he was capable of hurting. So because of this, Gage is pretty grumpy at first, rather to stay at an arms distance. However it only takes an hour or so of shaun’s wide puppy eyes, much like his parent’s, for gage to fall weak. After this, good luck finding either one of them because Gage is totally taking Shaun around the park to ride some of the rides.

Hancock:

In theory, Hancock thought it would be super easy..and well, it kind of was. Though he didn’t have much experience with taking care of young kids, he was still compassionate and at the very least- entertaining. This definitely worked in Hancock’s favor the first time he babysits the newest addition to your little family. Figuring it would be a good pass time, he takes Shaun around his city, making sure to acquaint him with all the “upstanding” citizens so they all know not to fuck with the kid. His kid. Needless to say, everyone quickly loves Shaun.

Macready:

He wasn’t that perturbed, more or less just wondering how in the world he was going to manage to watch both Shaun and Duncan without them teaming up and pulling one over on him. His fears were perfectly justified though, seeing as when you came home you found both the little boys laughing as Macready frantically tried to clean up an absolutely wrecked house.

Yes, they both got into some serious trouble. Macready never wants to be left without backup ever again.

Maxson:

(Just assuming he doesn't know he's a synth/ maybe a slight canon divergence? Like maybe Shaun actually ends up being Shaun and father is someone else?? I don't know..because it wouldn't go over smoothly if shaun was a synth no matter what.)

He's pretty good at this whole babysitting thing, remembering the many people who took care of him and what their were methods with crystal clarity. Granted, his previous caretakers were all soldiers. However, even though Shaun isn't technically his blood and doesn't have his last name, he is your son and that was good enough for Arthur. Plus, he figured it would be good practice for whenever you and him managed to finally make heirs. Seeing as Maxson wanted to do his best to acclimate Shaun into the brotherhood way of life, he'd take the precious bonding opportunity quite enthusiastically. It went beyond him just wanting Shaun to know his organization better though, truthfully, Arthur wanted to impress the young boy. Even more than that, Maxson wanted to let Shaun know that no matter what, he'd be there to protect him. That all being said, Arthur is still pretty awkward, not wanting to mess it up. He really tries though, taking Shaun around the airship, familiarizing the boy with his new family, answering any questions he may have about basically anything,

What he doesn't know is Shaun is impressed with him already, not because he is the leader of some crazy metal loving army.

As soon as Shaun makes that clear though, you can expect to come home to a teary eyed Maxson hugging a confused, but happy Shaun. Later on when the child's asleep, Arthur even slips up and begins referring to him as his own son...which makes you very happy.

Nick:

Deciding it would be for the best, he takes the synth boy to the agency- getting a little help from ellie. However he takes his duty very seriously, keeping his synthetic eyes practically glued on his boy. That being said, Shaun behaves especially well for the old detective, spinning around in one of the office chairs as his adoptive dad sorts out some old case files.

Old longfellow:

He was a little apprehensive at first but he knew that the time was bound to come. Luckily he already has an entire day planned out for him and his “son”. Much to shaun’s delight, Longfellow brings him out to the water and teaches him how to fish. The two of them don’t catch anything for a while, more so just enjoying each other’s company and chatting away. However Longfellow couldn’t help but be proud when Shaun caught some fish, far too small to eat but that didn’t matter. He was still so proud. To celebrate, he even gave the young boy a beer with a wink and a “don’t tell yer mom/dad.”.

Piper:

Much like Mac, Piper had both the disadvantage and advantage of also having another child under your roof. Though Nat wasn’t her child, she always cared for her little sister like she was so Piper didn’t exactly fear having to care for a kid. Unlike Mac, the additional kid in her care wasn’t mischievous. So, as much as she hate to admit it, Nat was the one that kept Shaun in line, all while Piper tentatively kept a watchful gaze on the two.

Preston:

Thanks to occasionally taking care of exhausted settler’s children, Preston wasn’t entirely in the dark when it came to taking care of Shaun. Sure, the first time being left alone with his “son” still made him a little nervous..but he’d do anything to make the boy happy. With that being said, providing it’s a chilly night, he’ll build a fire and tell Shaun all kinds of lovely campfire stories and roast some s’mores.

X6-88:

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that him and Shaun get along swimmingly, having known each other before you even found your son. So, X6 was a natural at caring for Shaun, with or without you present. Plus Shaun knows better than to act up with him, as well as they get along, x6 has none of it. Nonetheless, they are so totally partners in crime. Much to your surprise, you’ll likely come home to find the evidence of what appears to be a massive prank war. Shaun passed out on the couch with shaving cream on his face and X6 with mysteriously fuchsia hair.