#it's kinda Halloween festive yeah? no? close enough

[madamemiz]

Forcing moon to wear this

casting spell of go the fuck to bed

bonus lines bc i like them

[lovrsm]

ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ ᴛʀᴇᴇ ꜰᴀʀᴍ

sum: Christmas is near the corner, remembering how in this time of the year, everything is magic with the man you love.

word count: 2.5k

pairing: charles leclerc x childhoodbsf!reader

warning: angst, overthinking and FLUFF!!

disclaimers: we’re going to pretend that in Monaco it snows, FOR THE SAKE OF THIS SILLY WRITING. Alright? I investigated what winter is like there, and it’s not even close to snowing🤕. Also, kinda wrote this like a fairy tale, I’m so in love with it wtf😭♥️

Merry Christmas to you all🫶 love you and enjoy!

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“Just being in your arms takes me back to that little farm”

Christmas was around the corner.

Or maybe in a few couple days.

In reality, it was more than a month away.

November, 1st of November, and everything turned a mix of red, white and green. The colors of your favorite time of the year.

Your hands were covered in bags, and the bags filled with presents for all of your loved ones. It was barely afternoon, but you had woken up since 6am to be at stores as quick as you could.

Every single present was planned, even if it’s one time they mentioned they wanted it, or something they’ve been dying for since forever. Your presents were always the best, and everyone knew that.

After you buyed some great amount of gift wrapping, you finally headed home.

You knew you’d take a long time to get home, holiday shopping traffic was surely starting now.

Just a day after halloween and you knew you had to make everything green and white, and hella lot of red.

The rest of the day was for yourself, your family, and for making everything festive. Changing your bedsheets from black to red. Having christmas decorations over the entrance of your house.

The only thing that was missing, was the Christmas tree.

The very thing you waited for all year long.

You weren’t sure if it was the smell, or the shape. But the journey to find the tree, that was all you needed for Christmas.

You closed your eyes, and that silly little Christmas tree farm was the only thing you pictured.

-

“Sweetie, it’s time to go, they’re here!” My mom screamed from downstairs.

shit

I finished drying my hair, since I had just showered. Quickly, I grabbed all the extra clothes I needed for the cold weather outside.

I rushed downstairs, grabbing a beanie I had by the door in the way.

I could see at the corner of my eye the whole place covered in a blanket of snow.

“Oh, we are ready to go now!” I heard my dad shout as I was locking the door soon a lot of footsteps.

“Took you long enough” I heads a calm voice behind me.

I turned around to see the face I’ve been missing so much. I quickly jumped into his arms. “I’ve missed you too, asshole.” I whispered in his ear. He chuckled, making my whole body shiver with excitement.

“Missed you too, you have no idea.”

I let him go, taking a good look at him. His dimples showing up, and his white pearled teeth shining at me.

I couldn’t hide my smile, he was finally here.

A honk interrupted my thinking. “Come on you two, we want to get early this year!” I heard Lorenzo screaming from his car.

We both rushed to it, my dad, mom and Pascale left in the other car. While the Leclerc’s, my brother and I traveled in this car.

“Hey y/n!” Lorenzo smiled at me through the car mirror “Sup!” Arthur gave me a wave from the co-pilot seat.

“Hi!” I responded as I settled into my seat, putting on my seat belt. Lorenzo wasn't the best driver around.

“So, how was everything both of you? Did you miss us?” My brother started a conversation.

“It’s been crazy! All I could ever imagine, it literally felt like a dream”

“Yeah, all the behind the scenes is absolutely crazy, definitely learned a lot from the team, I think white looks good on us” Arthur completed.

“But, do you know what will look even better?”

“Red!” We all said in union and laughed.

Charles had won the new Ferarri seat for the 2019 season, and we were all so proud of him.

“We all saw you at your races, y/n was the first one to wake up and put on the tv, always.” My brother, Matthias tried to tease me.

Charles turned to look at me with a grin plastered in his face.

“Okeyy, I’m a morning person, alright? What is wrong with that?” I answered normally.

Yeah, I am a morning person, but I would normally go walking on my mornings or maybe do some exercise, not stay home watching tv.

But if Charles was on it, there was no way I would miss it.

“If you say sooo” I leaned out of my seat to look at Matt, since he was on the other side of the car. Charles was in the middle.

“okay.” He quietly answered to my glare.

“Anyway, so what is the first thing you want to do when we get there?” Lorenzo asked from the pilot seat, concentrated on not crashing.

“The sleighs”

“The horses!”

“Maybe we should get the trees first” Charles said calmly, looking at the road ahead.

“Yeah, you know how quickly they buy them, we should get the best two around.” I smiled at them, and everyone nodded in agreement.

Charles was right, the biggest, greenest and beautiful trees were obviously taken as soon as possible.

Last winter we were left with not the best tree because we all got distracted doing something else.

“So, we all know the drill, right?” Arthur asked, turning to look at the three of us in the back.

I smirked, this was going to be fun.

-

“Maman, papa are with Pascale, I texted them. They are going to wait for you, Enzo”

And with that, we arrived to the parking lot, and thank god we found a good place to park in, I did not want to walk too much after the whole day.

We always end up exhausted.

“Everyone get their phones at maximum volume, if someone calls answer immediately!” We all agreed.

“Go go go gooo!”

I opened the door as fast as I could, and waited for Charles to get out, but in a blink of an eye he already grabbed my hand and started to run to the barns direction.

I was slowly catching to his pace.

Shit he was faster than last year.

He finally stopped at the start of the trees. “Well, we have a lot of options”

Charles was concentrated on watching every single tree in front of us, scrunching his nose in a very cute way.

“Yeah… we better go looking”

-

Half an hour. A whole 30 minutes we were looking for the damn trees.

All of us took this very seriously.

“Too short”

“Too tall”

“Ew, that’s ugly.”

“Never liked the ones with fake snow.”

“Not fluffy enough”

“Oh come on, there is no way an ornament will look good in that.”

Every time there was an excuse. That was until Arthur and Matthias called us saying they found the 1st one.

Then my maman and papa called right after just to say they finally found another one, the most ‘perfect’ in the place.

In the pictures they sent to us, they looked so cute and wonderful. Surely there was no complaining at all.

So the Christmas tree hunt was over. And now we could peacefully walk around the place.

Charles and I walked silently to our favorite place here, it was somewhere close to the icy and blue ice rink.

Some small open cabins were there, just so people could get somewhere to get warm, and to lit up a bonfire.

The temperatures here were no joke.

Charles and I were basically freezing, even if we had the mittens that his mom made for us last year.

I snuggled into my sweater as I waited for charles to set the bonfire.

“You cold?”

“Mhm” he laughed at my state, I always get easily cold, but that doesn’t mean I hate winter.

It’s actually the exact opposite.

“Your nose is red as a tomato.” He pinched my nose.

“Hey!” He shrugged and smiled while he gave me his white scarf. “Thanks…”

I was now hypnotized by the dancing fire, and Charles came closer, having his arm touching mine.

“I wish you could’ve come with me” He whispered.

“To your races?”

“Everywhere, I needed you there.” He sweetly smiled at me. But I hit him in his arm “ow? What was that for?” He laughed at me.

“For all the times you were reckless and almost gave me a heart attack!… but, I would’ve loved being there with you too, you know that”

He chuckled, since we were little, when he was karting I would always be there for him when he crashed or just had a bump on the way.

Always.

But now we were talking about F1, something people should not play with. Cars that go at a speed I can’t even think.

So, yeah, I obviously had my nearly death experiences while watching the tv and having Charles crashing out of nowhere.

But here he was, next to me and I could now feel his warmth.

-

charles pov.

Missing her is just an understatement, he needed her. Every day it passed without her was absolutely devastating.

Yeah, they texted and called often, but there was nothing like having her by his side.

At this point she’s the air he need to breathe, it was like the sun finally appearing after long rainy days.

She was the first person he called when he got into Ferrari, she was the one who he texted in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep.

Charles didn’t even know how much he needed her till she wasn’t by his side anymore.

How do I even tell her?

She’s at my side, peacefully watching the bonfire while I am dying inside to tell her how much se makes me feel.

“Hey…” I started, I don’t even know what Im fucking going to say.

She turned her head to look at me, and tilted her head while shining her big gorgeous eyes at me.

I gulped. She stopped the world completely by just looking at me.

“Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost” she laughed, and the ends of my lips turned upwards.

“Here, let’s go take some hot cocoa, maybe it’ll help you relax”

She stood up and offered me her hand, and I took it hesitatingly, if I don't do it now when will I do it? I can’t just not tell her.

“Oh god, you’re even paler now.” She looked a bit worried.

“Come on big boy, you will be fine, follow me”

I grunted, but she didn’t stop moving. The cold air hitting us as soon as we left the warmth of the bonfire.

“Here, with marshmallows, just how you like it Charlie.” She showed her teeth at me handing a warm cup of hot chocolate.

“Feeling better?” She placed a falling piece of her hair behind her her ear after taking a sip from her own cup.

“More than ever” I replied.

She looked directly into my eyes, god I could melt right now.

“What was it that you were saying?”

I almost choked.

“Ugh, nothing important”

“Must be, you can always count on me Charlie.” She placed her delicate hand on top of mine.

Charlie, she has called me that since we were little. My parents and hers were friends since forever, and I guess we just followed.

“I just, was thinking about when I was away. Uh, I was just thinking about this… girl.”

-

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴠ

I felt a sting on my chest

But that is does the mean anything, right?

“Oh” i just managed to say, I looked at my feet just so I couldn’t meet his angelic eyes.

who am I even fooling at this point?

“It’s just, I really, really want her to be more to me than she is now. I just don’t know how to tell her.”

Cool.

Cool cool cool cool cool… cool.

“I mean, I don’t know, what is she like?” I looked everywhere just to not look at him.

But I’m pretty sure he must be distracted thinking about this girl.

why am I feeling like this?

“Well” he chuckled. “She’s like, the best woman I’ve ever met. She gets me, and she’s so creative and funny and everything great in this world...”

My heart was slowly breaking by each compliment he gave her.

“…I just want her by my side.”

“Just tell her, if you feel all… this, maybe you should just tell her”

It’s the first time I’ve heard him talk about a girl like this, heck, he even called her a woman.

I finally looked up at him, just to find out he was already looking at me.

His eyes shined with that sparkling light he had. I could resist the smile creeping up my cheeks already.

“Really? I’m just afraid I’ll screw everything up.” He concluded.

“Any girl would be nuts to say no to you.”

His cheeks turned a slightly darker red. I could feel my cheeks burning already.

But I had to stop myself, this isn’t you who he is talking about.

I turned around, I need to take a breath.

“y/n…” he grabbed me by the wrist to turn me around. I met, once again, with her dreamy eyes.

“Yes?” I quietly replied.

“You know who I’m talking about, right?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and gave me a look I couldn’t quite figure out was trying to say.

I shook my head side slowly. I felt my eyes watering.

I looked around just so that he couldn’t catch my glossy eyes.

But I met with a mistletoe just over a head. I opened my mouth in awe.

I felt a shift in the ambiance, I looked back at Charles and saw him smiling showing his dimples.

He was looking at the mistletoe above us.

“I can’t, I just can’t anymore y/n.”

what?

He met my gaze and took both of my hands, I could feel them over my mittens.

“Since we were kids, there was something about you, the is something about you that has always made my heart skip a beat.”

This isn’t happening.

I could feel my mouth slowly forming a smile.

“And I’ve always thought it was normal for me to feel like this with you. But god, being away from you has been hell. I need you, I can’t conform with just texting and calling.”

“Maybe this might sound selfish, but I don’t even want to picture you with someone else who is not me. I thought it was a little crush, but heck, you make me feel this way every single time and I never get tired of it.”

I was completely speechless.

This is happening.

“It’s ok if you don’t feel the same way, but it physically hurts to not tell you how much you actually mean to me. I’d be a fool not to tell you how special you are.”

At this point I started crying.

I cupped his face in my hands.

“What i’m trying to say is… I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

I was left with words, I’ve never been good at telling my feelings.

But I am good at showing them.

I slowly looked up at the mistletoe, and he followed my eyes.

I bit my lip. And furrowed my eyebrows asking him with signs, not words.

“Please” he quietly begged. I didn’t even had to think it twice.

I crashed my lips into his, expressing every single ounce of love I had for him. He followed.

It was the most magical night of the year.

-

Under the sparkling lights, bundled up in their mittens and coats, sweet dreams of holly and ribbons…

The couple finally found their way together, and their souls finally united and all their wishes came true.

Their love was blooming, and it all started in that little Christmas tree farm.

-

Taglist

@delicatepeanutsublime @leclercera16 @ironspdy @architect-2015 @buendiabebeta @zlut1r

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Connection: Patton

Read on Ao3

Warnings: mention of childhood neglect/abandonment/implied abuse

Pairings: royality

Word Count: 2370

You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

Patton bounces on the balls of his feet as he watches the other end of the road, waiting for Roman to appear. This was it! The festival was this weekend, he'd made sure his schedule was clear, and he had enough motivation to finally ask out Roman. Roman just needed to show up.

There!

Patton waves as he sees Roman turn onto the street, his red jacket slung over his shoulders and his phone in his hand. He puts it in his pocket and looks up to see him, smiling and waving back. He jogs the rest of the way to the bus stop and knocks his elbow lightly against Patton's.

"Morning. You look chipper."

"Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, that's me!"

Roman chuckles, shaking his head. "You're adorable."

"Aw, thanks! So are you!" Patton grins when he sees Roman turn away a bit to try and hide the way he blushes—it fails, but that's okay. "Hey, u, do you have any plans for this weekend?"

"Other than homework and keeping my brother out of trouble? Nah, not really, why?"

This is it. You can do it. "Well, there's this fall festival that's opening up this weekend on the other side of campus and there's a student discount and I was, um, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?"

"A festival?"

"Yeah! Pumpkins, corn mazes, apple cider…fall stuff. They're doing a few things for Halloween but it's meant to last until—well, until it's too cold to be outside anymore, so I think, like, late November? So there's not that much stuff out right now."

"How much is it? Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, I'm just…kind of on a budget right now."

"Oh, that's okay! I think the general pass is around fifteen but I can pay for you if you want."

Roman startles a bit. "No, no, that's okay, I didn't mean that. I just wanted to know how much it was."

Patton frowns. "I didn't—sorry, I didn't want to make it sound like I didn't think you could pay for it, I just—gosh. Sorry. I, um, I really like spending time with you and I wanted to spend more time with you, and…yeah. Just wanted to make it clear that was an option."

Roman scratches the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "Kinda jumped all over you on that, huh? Sorry."

"It's okay! I get it. I could've said it a little better."

"You said it fine, Patton, I'm just—money's a bit of a thing for me, that's all."

"Noted. I'll keep that in mind."

"You're too sweet, you know that?" He adjusts his backpack. "Can I think about it? I want to ask my brother if it's okay too—he's got some stuff going on at the moment and I don't—I wanna get a feel for that too."

"Of course! Yeah, no, I completely understand. Let me know."

"Thanks."

Sure enough, that evening, he gets a text from Roman saying: i'm free! i can come this sunday for a few hours. remus is gonna go visit a friend for lunch so i'm all yours.

'All yours.' Patton can't help a little squee at that.

Me: OH that's so great!!!! I'm so excited!!!! It's really close so we can walk over if you want.

Roman <3: sure that sounds great

Me: Cool!! Do you want to aim for like 11?

Roman <3: i can do 11. you said it was 15?

Me: Yeah, $15 for the general pass. I wasn't making it up when I said I could pay for you, just as a reminder. I asked, let me treat you.

Roman <3: u sure? i can pay you back

Me: You're paying me back by letting me spend time with you <3

Roman <3: jfc you're too cute

He squees again, clutching his phone. This Sunday can't come soon enough.

As it turns out, once Sunday comes, 11:00 can't come soon enough. But eventually, Roman shows up with a different jacket slung over his shoulders; a big, black cargo jacket with a bunch of pockets that makes him look even more like a movie star and Patton tells him that as soon as he's close enough not to shout.

"Aw, thanks. I like this coat too." He winks and gestures to the road. "After you."

It really isn't that far from campus—it's actually closer to their houses than the actual campus is. They talk about nothing in particular as they go, favorite Halloween candy—candy corn for Patton, M&M's for Roman—whether or not candy corn is gross—"I prefer those candy pumpkins, honestly, just 'cause there's more of it."—and how much sugar is appropriate to eat before it's too much— "if your head starts hurting, Pat, I think it's too much."

They politely disagree on that last one until they come to the festival grounds. There are more pumpkins than they could ever hope to count, streamers flying from the top of booths and tents, and a corn maze that stretches far into the distance. A few kids shriek as they run past, going toward some of the bigger rides. One has a giant stuffed bear in their arms that they keep tripping over.

"The entrance is over there, I think." Patton starts walking toward it but stops when he realizes Roman isn't following him. "Roman?"

Roman snaps out of whatever daze he was in, looking over apologetically. "Sorry, got distracted. What did you say?"

"The entrance is right over there."

"You sure you're okay with paying?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Patton happily hands over the money required for two general passes and they strap on their wristbands, heading through the archway to the festival proper. He claps his hands. "What do we want to do first?"

"What does this get us again?"

"It gets us the corn maze, the pumpkin patch, and then the art barn."

"The what?"

Patton points at a large red barn that looks like it's been taken from a cartoon and placed in the real world. "In there. I think if you want to decorate or carve whatever pumpkins you end up picking, you go in there."

"Gotcha." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Well, I think I've learned better than to bring home smashable gooey things, so I don't think I'll be getting a pumpkin, but I like looking at all the weird gourds, so should we start there?"

"Yeah, that sounds like fun!" They weave their way around cotton candy stalls and hot pretzel stands until they reach the entrance to the barn. Rows upon rows of gourds greet them, sectioned first by color and then by shape. Patton picks up a squat round white one and holds it up. "It looks like someone squished a pumpkin and then painted it white, doesn't it?"

"And this one looks like it was made of chewing gum and they stretched it too far." Roman holds up an off-white one that's almost the length of his forearm. "You know when you accidentally miss the trash and it goes this color?"

"Oh my gosh, you're right. Wait, no!" He smacks Roman's arm when Roman jokingly goes to chomp on it. "Don't do that!"

"I won't, I won't," he laughs, setting it back down. "Whoa, look at this. This looks like some kind of messed up trombone."

"Wait, wait, let me join you with my horrible saxophone." They each pick up long twisted gourds. "Or is this more of a wonky trumpet?"

"It's a mess, that's what it is. Here, use this one, they kind of look like drumsticks."

Patton mimes out a drum sting. "Wait, wait, tell a joke."

"Uh—what do you call a round orange thing that's a bit bigger than the others?"

"What?"

"A plump-kin!"

"Ba-dum tss."

Roman snorts, holding a hand to his mouth. "How was you doing that funnier than my joke? Wait, wait, don't answer that."

"I thought it was good."

"That's 'cause you like dad jokes."

"There's nothing wrong with a good dad joke! They grow on you." Roman narrows his eyes as Patton mimes the sting again. "Ba-dum tss!"

"You're lucky you're adorable."

Patton giggles, putting the gourds back as they keep walking. There are ones with lumps, ones with bumps, ones that are more lumps and bumps than gourds, and ones that are so smooth they almost drop them trying to pick them up. They get all the way to the end of one row when Roman stops suddenly and Patton almost runs into him.

"Whoa!"

"Sorry, sorry, there's just—traffic!"

Patton peeks over his shoulder and watches two little kids run right past them. Each carries their own little gourd and they proudly hold them up to two women who must be their mothers. They bend down and ruffle their hair, each saying how perfect it is. Patton smiles as they bundle the kids off toward the other part of the barn where the register must be.

"They're so cute," he mumbles, "aren't they?"

Roman doesn't say anything. When he looks up, Roman's face is…a bit sad?

"You okay?"

Just like at the entrance, Roman snaps himself out of it. "Yeah, sorry. I'm here. Are you all good in here?"

"Yeah, I think I'm done. I'm kinda hungry, are you?"

"A bit." But before he can suggest going to find something to eat, Roman reaches into an inside pocket of his coat and pulls out a bag of trail mix. "Do you want some?"

"Um, sure." Roman shakes a bit of it into his hand. "Hey, there's candy in here!"

"I know how to trick myself into eating my protein, thank you."

They walk back outside, snacking on the trail mix. The sun starts to beat down, having reached its zenith while they were inside. Patton shields his eyes and looks around.

"Do any of the booths look fun?"

"Oh, I'm no good at the games."

"Me neither. There are some that look more like just stuff, though, it could be fun to walk through those."

Roman eyes the crowds swarming around them. "Maybe we should come back when they're less…populated."

"Fair enough. Wait about the corn maze?"

"Sure. Are you any good at mazes?"

"I'm fine when I can see all of them. So…probably not that good at these."

Roman chuckles. "That's fine. We've got cell service, I'm sure someone will come and rescue us if we get too lost. Besides, I know the trick."

"You do?" They show their wristbands to the attendant and head in, the breeze making the stalks crackle lightly as they walk. "Wait, what's the trick?"

"You're always supposed to turn left. That way, you eventually cover all the ground in the maze and you'll find the exit. Whoa!"

They both screech to a halt again as an entire gaggle of children race by, just narrowly avoiding them. A few harried-looking parents follow after them, apologizing to them both as they make it out of the maze. Patton lets out a breath, letting go from where he'd clutched Roman's arm.

"Sorry, didn't mean to grab you like that." He looks up. Roman's got that faraway look on his face again. "Hey, are you okay? You've…you keep zoning out."

"Sorry. I'm probably not being very good company, am I?" He offers his arm but doesn't answer.

"You're fine." Patton laces his arm through Roman's as they walk, slowly moving through the corn. "I just…you know, you're my friend. If there's anything I can do…"

"You're perfect." He tries not to swoon at that. "I'm just…I don't want to bring down the mood."

"You won't."

Roman huffs a laugh, but it's not happy. "I…hm. No, it's not fair to you if I don't tell you."

He draws himself up a bit, refusing to make eye contact.

"My parents…weren't very good parents. I won't burden you with details but basically, as soon as I was eighteen, I got custody of Remus and we moved out on our own. It's just been the two of us for so long and I wouldn't trade him for the world but we…I told you money was kind of a thing for me?"

Patton nods, unwilling to speak.

"We've not really had the opportunity to do a lot of stuff like this." He gestures around. "So seeing all the kids…I dunno, makes me feel some type of way."

Patton chest hurts for a moment and he squeezes Roman's arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He looks over, smiling ruefully. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you. One for being so depressing and two for waiting until we're lost in a maze to tell you all of that."

"One, we're not lost, we're just getting started, and two, that's fine. You're having feelings!" He squeezes his arm again. "I'd rather you tell me about them if you're comfy than if you didn't."

"Thank you, Patton. Really. That means a lot to me."

"Well, you mean a lot to me. I mean…I know we don't know each other all that well, but…" Now it's his turn to find it hard to make eye contact. "I'd like to get to know you better. That's partly why I asked if you would come today."

"I'm glad I did."

"Really?"

"Really." He looks down at the hand on his arm. "Feels a bit like I'm getting some of those missed opportunities back."

He just manages to restrain himself from squeeing again but he can't stop the massive grin on his face. Roman looks up, sees it, and laughs. It's happy this time.

"So," he says as they keep walking, "anything else I should know?"

"Um…like what?"

"Well…are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

Roman sighs. "I think…three people at this point have asked me out to dinner, but I've not—I'm not currently in a relationship with any of them."

"Can I make it four?"

"What, dad jokes and corn mazes not enough for you?" But he's smiling as he says it. "Let's see how we handle being lost in here first, then we'll see."

"Sounds good!"

"Hey, hey!" Roman stumbles as Patton almost drags him forward. "Slow down!"

"Oops, sorry."

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[flightofaqrow]

costumes

qrow + Summer Rose ( @scatterose​ )

“i don’t like the look of this.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh come on, Qrow! Tomorrow’s Halloween! I got us team matching costumes!”

“Here’s yours! You’re the scarecrow and I’ll be be the farm girl with the ruby slippers. You think Raven would wear these lion ears?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

yep. yep. that was the look of Summer Rose with a team building exercise.

although, as she reveals what she’d been hiding behind her back, he’s gotta say, it isn’t the worst thing he anticipated.

Halloween.

oddly enough, not something the tribe celebrated, but they had close approximations for the season - fancy dress and nightfall rituals. nothing with the - what was the phrase - pop culture costumes like this.

he’s actually kind of excited. treats, bonfires, and dressing up like fankids of certain things?? count him in! nerd. (although, he really wanted to be a reaper man. guess that didn’t fit into a team theme as much. he can’t say he minds that thought either.)

long fingers accept the patched up burlap thing Summer hoists at him, and he twists it around a few times, huffing in spite of both of them. scare-qrow. har har.

it did feel very harvest festival, though. familiar. appropriate.

the scarecrow with a scythe out in the field protecting the farmgirl. “yeah, alright,” he grins and drapes the garment over the edge of his bed, “not the biggest fan’a th’t hat though.”

Summer holds up the ears next. cute. he tries to picture it. he scrunches his lips into a tilt, thinking they might get buried in Raven’s mane of hair, “mebbe. probl’y look better on Tai, though, dontcha think?”

he barges in next to her, complete disregard for personal space, rummaging around now. “wha’s th’ fourth one?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Woah! Woah! Woah! He’s way to close!

Summer’s face warms from the sudden intrusion of her personal space and she leans away from him, trying not to draw attention to her obvious discomfort. Qrow towers in size over someone like Summer and has no idea how intimidating his height can be. In fact, Raven and Qrow can be quite odd sometimes, both lacking in social cues and social interactions. Summer and Tai have begun to notice.

It can get confusing with the twins. They don’t like anyone to touch them. but they sure do invade Summer’s and Tai’s personal space a lot, not knowing that intimacy can be embarrassing. Perhaps, it’s a sign of trust? Nobody gets this close without an arm being twisted.

“Ah! Maybe you’re right! The yellow lion ears should go to Tai!” Summer moves away to look through another party bag. For now, she lets it go and moves on with other costumes she bought.

“I have a witch’s hat! I think the wicked witch might suit Raven better, don’t you think?” Summer giggles as she shows the hat to Qrow. “Oh! I even have dog ears! Do you want to be my Toto instead?”

Summer takes out the grey dog ears and fake tail.

“Here, put them on! Let’s see!” Summer laughs.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(a sign of trust, indeed. qrow would not show his back to just anyone around here. especially not without Raven in the room to protect it. he must believe, even if subconsciously, that Summer would too. and maybe that’s why his arm remains untwisted. he appreciates it, unknowingly.)

qrow’s guard drops enough in this moment to let Summer’s excitement continue to infect him. he snickers, deep and genuine, “y’know i was about t’say she’d make a better wicked witch.” but he didn’t know if that was part of the set, “she’s always liked stuff with skirts, too.” freedom of movement if she’d have to fight. hadn’t Summer also said something like that at some point? after having worn one he kinda gets it.

Toto - some sort of canine apparently? qrow doesn’t like the sound of as much. he can already hear the command in her voice, ah, and there it is, sounded as she stuffs the next set of accessories in his direction.

still, this all remains in the dorm, not like he’s agreeing to wear the things out in public. her laughter continues to bleed into his own lightening voice.

“alright, alright…” he settles the ears onto his head with a ruffle of his hair, and the tail at the end of his spine with a shake of his hips. he found himself wishing that if he had to have a tail, that it were longer than this little wiry stub. he doesn’t dare voice that to Summer, or that’s probably exactly what he’d be getting for the winter holidays.

(curious, too, for him to consider a future with someone still around and still caring enough to get him gifts).

qrow stands ready for Summer’s appraisal with his arms out.

“i can’t b’lieve this,” he mutters. he’s still laughing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Honestly, Summer didn’t think Qrow would take a liking to the dog ears and tail and to her surprise, he puts them on without complaint and Summer’s mouth drops open.

“Oh my Brothers!” Summer gushes and she covers her mouth with her hands.

“You look so cute, Qrow!”

The black ears blend almost naturally into his dark hair and Summer laughs bubbly, not at him, never at him, but she laughs joyously at how Qrow is finally opening up and behaving more friendly.

“Here, hold your hands up like this so it looks like little paws! Awwwwwwww!”

Summer laughs out as she holds her stomach, almost wheezing and running out of breath.

“We should change your name to canine, but spell it with a K!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he sees it this time. cute she calls him. but not as cute as Summer with blooming cheeks and a laugh like she hasn’t seen and done the things qrow has at late 17. someone calling him cute in the tribe would surely be condescending, but he doesn’t get that from her. she’s just happy.

he doesn’t think about it too hard. only continues to chuckle warmly and let her guide him, paw-hands and all. he’s already wearing a ridiculous costume. might as well go full rag-doll.

“pfft,” he laugh-scoffs. “but Kanine doesn’ sound cool.” scare-qrow he can run with, but qrow’s not a dog. so says his brain, even with ears covering it.

he gives her one last good look once she recovers from her giggle fit, but he fully plans on changing back into the scarecrow if anything at all.

those laughing eyes suddenly become sharp, “this doesn’t leave th’room y’know.”

[wincore]

wasted nights | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x reader

words: 5.5k

summary: firstly, you don’t think you should have survived this long. secondly, this might be the zombie apocalypse but your survival doesn’t feel as threatened by zombies as it does by liu yangyang. thirdly, you’ve chosen the worst time to develop a crush.

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, fluff, humour(?)

warnings: mention of injuries & blood, violence (against zombies), dumbassery, do not attempt during an actual zombie apocalypse

song rec(s): wasted nights - one ok rock 

a/n: october birthdays get halloween specials~ although this one is just full of unnecessary appearances by cats. also campfires because october campfires hit different. (i’m definitely saying this because i was born in october) also not me writing this as a joke and reaching 5.5k words </3

It’s two hours till sundown. 

What would you be doing on a day within the ordinary? Likely getting back from after school activities, chatting with a friend or feeding the stray kittens by the school building, or maybe pretending Liu Yangyang doesn’t exist—the possibilities were endless. Now there’s only one.

“Yangyang,” you call, more worried than not.

On a day out of the ordinary, you wish you hadn’t prayed for your exam to get cancelled the day all of this broke out. You wouldn’t be scavenging like some sort of rodent and you wouldn’t be standing at the gates of an abandoned shrine, though now is undoubtedly a better time to pray. It’s not the best of situations (especially not with a certain little rascal attached to your side). 

And understatements are definitely your thing now.

“Yangyang,” you call a little louder this time, eyes shifting around the shrine area. 

Should you step in? He asked you to wait, the stone steps now looking a little glum without him skipping over them. The only signs of life you’ve seen around has been a family of raccoons looking rather smug and a single spotted dove preening itself atop a branch. The lack of visibility into the forest surrounding the shrine bothers you, like something could jump out any minute and you suck your teeth, growing annoyed. Where is that boy?

You tap your foot against the ground soundlessly. What if a zombie were to pop out? They might be slow but the sight of them is still gross enough to paralyze you. Yangyang has his baseball bat with him, which leaves you defenseless in terms of weapons. Still, it’s not like the bat would have done you any good. You are, in the truest sense of the word, average at any sort of combat and freezing at the limbs comes to you more naturally. Zombies are not fun; whatever nonsense Yangyang has been trying to explain to you for weeks is optional, as is every other suggestion that comes from his mouth. It’s quiet and quiet, creepy shrines have never been your favourite place in the city.

You hear a low growl behind you, stiffening at the sound. Best case scenario, it’s a big rat. You’d rather not think of the worst case. Eventually, you gather some courage and turn slowly only to jump back with a short scream. 

Yangyang takes the old festival mask off to reveal a giant grin on his face, urging you to knock it right off. The anger that follows is natural and he should be used to it by now. Yangyang continues smiling, as if he didn’t just pull your soul right out of your body, and when he opens his mouth to say something, you’re quick to land a swift punch to his gut. He lets out a pained cry, dropping to the ground in a squat.

“Don’t do that,” you seethe. “Why can’t you greet me normally?”

“I’m okay!” He signals a thumbs up while the other hand clutches his stomach. 

“I didn’t ask.”

He moves his hand to place it over his chest. “Ow. Oh, and to answer your question, it’s because you don’t want to do my special handshake with me.”

“Hm. Get up. You said there were supplies here. What did you find?”

He pouts, finally getting up. “I can’t believe you’re just using me for supplies.”

You cross your arms. “Just get up already.”

Yangyang springs up despite the (admittedly) strong blow to his stomach and presents to you the plastic bag he’d been holding. In any other circumstances, it would spark some disapproval on your behalf but it turns out, those things do outlive most everything. For a moment, the ridiculous image of pulling a plastic bag over a zombie’s head crosses your mind. 

Yangyang finally responds, taking out whatever items he recovered. Not everything is useful however; he’s simply taken to collecting knick-knacks. 

“I found toothbrushes! Maybe your breath will stop stinking—”

You raise your clenched fist as a threat.

“—I was kidding. Obviously. You have lovely breath.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in an attempt to contain your exasperation. 

“Also, I found clean water so I filled up some bottles and yeah, I couldn’t find much else but oh! There was this huge cat and I mean huge like a big chonk kinda guy, you know? And I’m sure he was, like, trying to tell me something, like, he kept hissing when I went near him but…”

You wonder if Yangyang ever gets tired from speaking so fast, his words fading out of your comprehension. You shake your head, clearing your throat.

“Can we leave now?”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow, almost smirking as the gears in his head turn.

“You’re not… superstitious, are you?” he asks. “I heard there’s a lot of reported sightings of ghosts here.”

“No,” you blurt, quick to deny. Yangyang might have seen you crying after getting lost in the dark, almost fainting after encountering a zombie for the first time or even in deep sorrow after you lost your friend—but there’s still part of your dignity to protect before you can admit your fear of ghosts. There’s just something about this abandoned shrine; there are no visitors apart from the caretaker and if loneliness is responsible for anything, it’s making lonely things seem a whole lot scarier. You’d rather leave before the sun sets.

Yangyang laughs. “Who do you think would win in a fight? Zombies or ghosts?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s so stupid. Obviously ghosts.”

“No. Okay, maybe. I just think…”

There he goes again. 

You wonder if he was always this way—when you passed him by in the hallways, when he shot you a polite smile at club meetings or when you saw him being loud with his friends blocking part of the sidewalk. You’re sure he couldn’t have been entirely sane.

“Oh my god.”

Yangyang’s voice jerks you back to the present. You follow his line of sight to a cardboard box beneath a particularly dense shrub; it's a large one—quite possibly a carton of some commercial product which doesn’t matter anymore. However, it’s not the details of the box itself so much as it is the contents that grab your attention. 

You can almost see the sparkle in Yangyang’s eyes as he views the cats huddled together inside the box. They don’t seem to mind each other within their personal space—you count four of them, tightly packed and eyes closed in a late afternoon nap. How the box hasn’t ripped apart yet is quite a mystery, and what’s more troubling is how at ease they seem to be with the entire human race in disarray.

You grab Yangyang by the collar before he can make his way to them.

“Don’t harass them,” you say, massaging your temples. “Jesus, it’s like they’re glued to each other. Do they have to be in the same box?”

“It might just be the last cardboard box left on earth.” Yangyang shrugs.

The cats mind their own business, grooming their fur or closing their eyes in an odd sort of bliss. You wonder what it would be like to be so unbothered by all the chaos. It reminds you of someone.

“Come on,” you urge, thinking back to older times. “Don’t think I forgot how much you used to bother old Louis back then.”

Louis was the university cat, fed with so much love that he eventually started avoiding people like the plague. You wonder how he’s holding up for a brief moment.

“Don’t think I forgot how you were back then too.”

“What do you mean?” you snap, glaring at him.

“You were already a zombie,” he says before engaging in a cheap mimicry of you, drooping his eyelids and taking slow steps muttering, “I… must… maintain… gpa… grr.”

You almost take off your shoe to throw it at him before deciding it’s not worth your time. Ah, if only you had done that during club meetups, perhaps you’d have felt better about him joining. Everyone treated him so differently, and you hate to admit you now understand why. 

Everyone loves a good troublemaker.

And there happens to be another thing special about your sole competitor for the debate club’s president position. Apart from his strange antics (charms, he says), even this virus—this fuckall literal killer virus can’t infect him. He’s immune—an occurrence with a possibility lower than you finding him attractive. (There, you said it.)

You look at Yangyang still talking about Louis and a small smile crosses your face. You’d feed your right arm to a zombie before you admitted it but it’s nice having him around. You furrow your brows at the sudden familiar bubbling in your chest and shove it away in a flash before your conscious decides to tell you what it is. 

Your heart jumps to your throat when you make eye contact with Yangyang, turning away in a rather awkward manner. Oh, the end of the world does awful things to you.

“Are you listening?” Yangyang raises an eyebrow. “Oh my god, you weren’t listening at all.”

You roll your eyes. “I was distracted.”

“By me?” he offers in a sing-song voice, prompting a smack from you. It’s easier to pretend this way.

Yangyang massages his shoulder with a huff. “Why are you hitting me so much today? I’ve counted like eight and the day’s only just over.”

“Sorry,” you mumble before clearing your throat. “I mean, you’ve also said something annoying, like, more than eight times today.”

“I’m not annoying.”

There’s a pause.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.”

The sun starts to lay in rest by the time you reach the city. Compared to the green, red and yellow of the yet standing shrine, this place is in dull monochrome with the occasional coloured signs that flicker to life. You force yourself to think but have a hard time remembering if it was always this way. Was it any different with the rushing cars or apathetic crowds? You can’t tell. You were part of them, after all. 

“Hey, how about a bottle flip challenge but with traffic cones?” Yangyang thinks aloud, walking backwards as you pass by a particularly well-lit alley. 

You roll your eyes in response. Is it the lack of people making him that way? Your unflustered companion looks at home among neon lights, all of them seeming to point towards him as an answer to a question you haven’t quite figured out yet. 

You glance at the alley just a second longer. The electric lanterns still glow red, and although dim, there are many. The shops almost look like you could enter and be greeted with a crowd of university kids or a group of office workers drinking away in celebration of the weekend. You sigh. It’s most certainly deserted inside; there’s no doubt. At the most, the tables are still arranged neatly and the meat grills aren’t completely rusted. You wonder if it’s a Friday.

There was never much grass in the city but whatever growth there was has withered into a mustard yellow or a lamenting grey. An empty city is hardly appealing, but you can’t deny the ill-favored things you’ve done the past few months in the absence of people—a part of you questioning whether breaking into supermarkets is still against the law when no one’s around to keep it. You smile at the memory of Yangyang pushing you around in a shopping cart, though you’d gotten drunk off the (stolen) liquor prior. The neon lights hanging as a banner over sketchy shops sometimes spark alive before dying down over and over again, and to be fair, you don’t think they ever shined too bright. Ironically, they’re the liveliest thing about the city now. 

The sky’s soaked in ink at a time you assume to be around seven in the evening. You walk closer to Yangyang without realizing; it’s not often you’ve been out this late the past few months.

“Hey.” Yangyang snaps you out of your daze. “Be careful.”

The words are strange coming from him but you understand why. You look up ahead with caution and a shiver runs down your spine as you stare at the intersection, a lone, tattered figure droning aimlessly. It’s only one, you tell yourself. And they’re slow.

The memories of your previous encounters send warnings over your skin, shivers begging you to run as fast as you can. You would if it weren’t for Yangyang’s grip on your hand, tugging you forward gently and though it’s something he does every time, you wonder if he knows how you’re really feeling. His footsteps are soundless, with the same red sneakers he’s worn since the beginning of this but something tells you it’s not the shoes that give him a cat’s footfall. The purple lights flicker on and off over the shop on the opposite street, the suddenness of it making you latch onto Yangyang for a short-lived moment. You’re quick to let go, throat too dry to make any sound. 

You curve around what would be a straight path, careful not to be in the creature’s line of sight when you cross. The streets seem wider when they’re so empty, and somehow it feels more unlawful this way. Yangyang signals to you to stay closer, and you follow before bumping into his back when he stops abruptly. There’s absolutely no sound, the feeling in your gut much worse than at the shrine.

“Something’s wrong,” Yangyang whispers.

A strangled shriek erupts from your mouth when something launches itself onto the two of you, making you land on your butt. You would’ve placed your hands over your eyes, but you’ve learned how to be less of a coward these past few days. 

A shaky breath leaves you. A cat. It was a stray cat. The little asshole looks at you with almost twinkling eyes, tail swishing from side to side before deciding you’re not worth its time. Your shoulders sag, a moment of relief despite your stiff muscles.

“Uh, (name)?”

You look up only for your stomach to fill with dread. The zombie from before is staring directly at the two of you, the same vacant look in its eyes that has haunted you for the entirety of the apocalypse.

“It’s okay, he’s too slow,” Yangyang reminds you, voice barely a whisper as he helps you stand.

“We can just take the other street—it’s a little longer but it’s mostly safe and there’s no way he can—”

Yangyang is interrupted by a sickening growl from behind you and you jump back. There’s another one. And another. You count four more before holding back a swear. Yangyang grabs you by the shoulder and the two of you take a step back, onto the sidewalk. There’s a shop behind you; you read a smeared sign above the plastic door curtains indicating a dumpling place. Even if you were to hide in there, there’s no guarantee you’d be safe. 

But if you’ve learned anything in these months, it’s that anything is always better than nothing.

The night has settled in completely, you realize. You’re about to tug Yangyang to the inside as you turn around, only to freeze up in your spot. A pale woman emerges from the store, her makeup still fresh but you know that look, the look in her eyes. How cruel.

“Please,” she mumbles, taking a step towards you and you think you might just cry. It’s not long before she turns, you think with dread.

You stumble back to Yangyang when she emits a blood curdling screech, lunging at you and to either your alarm or worse, relief, Yangyang pushes you back. You watch with wide eyes as the woman sinks her teeth into his arm, nausea growing at the sight of blood. He moves fast though, his arm swinging the baseball bat to meet the woman in the head, hard enough to knock her out. In these few moments, one of the zombies is close enough to reach an arm out towards you and you swear you can hear the horrid sound of his bones cracking when you step back. The longer you remain in this state, the slower you are. You suppose you should take comfort in these words but when you look at it, you still see a man.

Hollow. They’re all hollow. 

You take a deep breath.

Just as the thought crosses your head, you see Yangyang swing his bat again, meeting the zombie on the head and much to your wide-eyed horror, the head flies off into the dumpling shop and the body reacts with just about as much confusion as you do. It wildly waves about its hands in the now vacant spot before crumpling onto the road with a quiet realization.

Yangyang makes a face, pressing his knuckle to his mouth to prevent himself from what you presume is gagging. However, when you look closely, he seems to be holding back a laugh instead and very painfully so. You know he has a habit of laughing at the most inappropriate times but this, it really takes the cake.

“Home run?” he suggests, turning to you with a sheepish half-grin. There’s no hint of malice in his voice and you think that it’s probably not that he enjoys swinging his baseball bat at zombies. 

“You’re disgusting,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Maybe I should leave you here then.” 

You can’t believe he has the gall to be cheeky with blood running down his arm and four of the undead drooling at the sight of you two. 

“Do you think we can find ingredients that aren’t stale here? I miss having dumplings.”

“Yangyang.”

“Okay, okay.”

The other ones are still far enough and the two of you take this chance to run off towards the street Yangyang mentioned earlier and safely out of view. You notice him panting heavier than before, and your eyes scan over his arm in worry. The bite is ugly, red with oozing blood, and you hold back the urge to ask him if he’s anaemic. 

Yangyang follows your eyes before an ‘ah’ leaves his lips. He spins his head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of the wound in the same manner a dog chases after its own tail. He puts the bat down to try and twist his arm to see the injury but you stop him, clicking your tongue at his silly behaviour.

“You’re not twelve, Yangyang,” you scold. “Let’s get back to the hotel first.”

He shrugs, and you think some provoking words are ready to leave his mouth when he simply picks up his bat and walks off. You blink before quickening your steps to catch up with him. The blood dripping down his forearm makes you feel a little unwell but you know better than to touch infections.

It takes around fifteen minutes longer than usual to reach the hotel—Yangyang was right. It is safer here, with no zombies lurking around the corners. He must have been out late when he was scouting, you think with distaste.

You reach the now-rusting gates of your haven without trouble and the moment you reach, Yangyang falls to his knees, heaving a breath he seems to have been holding. You rush to him, eyes frantic when you reach your hand out to him, and he flinches, moving away from you.

“Don’t,” he mutters before getting up. “You turning into a real zombie would be my personal nightmare.”

It’s not enough to curb your worry but you follow him nonetheless, the stupid, wavering grin on his face making you unable to decipher what he’s really feeling. 

The familiar smell of honeysuckle washes into you as you pass by the entrance, locking the door behind you as Yangyang falls onto one of the chairs in the lobby. Kunhang happened to be passing by, a muffled swear leaving him when he sees the blood on Yangyang’s arm.

“You didn’t touch him, did you?” he asks, pulling on his gloves to further see the wound. A former med student is the best you have here, and somehow, you’ve never seen him complain about having to take care of someone as bothersome as Yangyang. 

You shake your head in reply to Kunhang and watch as he runs from shelf to shelf to procure more bandages than you’ve ever seen in your life. You’ve been seeing an awful lot lately. 

“We’re going to run out of bandages in a week if he keeps this up,” Kunhang says with a frown, moving so fast you can barely see his hands. “He’ll be okay, I guess. The virus just makes him dizzy.”

He’s probably thinking the same thing you are. Something serious happening to Yangyang is a little bit of a miracle. Maybe he’ll finally be set right in the head. 

Even so, you know Kunhang is worried despite his quick response, his frown lines deepening once he’s done wrapping up. He sighs before waltzing off to discard his gloves.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed by Kunhang; you’ve just seen him do that too many times to count. And of course, it’s mostly Yangyang on the receiving end. They might be good friends but this also happens to be the only time they're serious together. Moreover, Kunhang seems to beat Yangyang in the talking-for-twelve-hours-straight department. You have to admit though, being in charge of first aid for the few people stuck in this hotel is not an easy business. 

You take a seat opposite to Yangyang, dozing off in his chair and wonder if you should wipe the drool off his chin. Disgusting, you think to yourself, but another part of you dares to offer the word cute. 

The best thing about barricading yourself in a hotel during the apocalypse is not having to worry about beds. There’s at least five hundred rooms in this skyrise, more than enough for, what, sixteen people? The place is so big that you hardly run into the others. The only rule around here is regarding the pantry—to write down who’s taken what on the notepad stuck to one corner. Despite what movies show, people are far more helpful to each other in times of need, more so than usual even. You relax into the chair, the velvet cushion feeling comfortable against your back. 

There’s a nice communal feeling in this place. 

You frown. It’s not like you can stay here forever. 

At the very least, you can pretend each sundown and sunrise is ordinary here. You close your eyes, and slowly, thoughts of why you’re trying so hard to remember life before this drift away.

//

Yangyang wakes up before you do, grinning like crazy as he shrugs you awake. You stare at him through groggy eyes, untangling your limbs from yourself. The cold seeps into you and you shiver, hugging yourself.

“We found the keys to the lounge,” he rushes, albeit in a gentle voice. “Guess what?”

“Unh?”

“There’s a campfire spot over there! The others already started but I thought I should wake you up.”

It’s just like him to be excited about something like that. You get up nevertheless, Yangyang pulling you through the stairs and onto the only elevator that seems to work around here. There’s quite a few things about this hotel left to be figured out. You’re going to have to start worrying anyway when the power from the generator runs out.

Kunhang and an older man, Mr Kang, are the only ones there once you reach. You had expected it but the lounge is gigantic and a small part of it provides the artificial campfire area. There are paintings of wild animals and trees for children, you assume, on the walls only cut off by a large vent on the ceiling. The fire burns bright over the large circle of soil and firewood, whose authenticity is debatable. You sigh at the warmth, having grown tired of the autumn weather’s mood swings.

Kunhang greets the two of you with a grin before delicately poking Mr Kang to at least acknowledge your presence. It’s funny, the lot of you.

The place is a little small, considering there’s a literal fire in the middle of the room. You almost sit on Yangyang because he shifts too suddenly at Mr Kang’s disapproval of proximity, a small yelp leaving you whereas Yangyang, for the first time, looks like he’d rather die. He mutters an apology, and two of you manage to sit a good two feet apart, sudden awkwardness rising in the air—all of it unnoticed by Mr Kang. You heard he was a banker but if Kunhang and Yangyang had a polar opposite, it would most certainly be him. You can’t even remember the man’s voice.

You think you should say something but Kunhang’s laughter breaks the silence. There’s an unspoken exchange between him and Yangyang, piquing your curiosity though you aren’t sure what you should be asking. You just assume it’s one of their stupid inside jokes.

“I left your gift on your table. You can add it to your dumb shoe collection,” Kunhang tells Yangyang, smiling before standing up to stretch. “I’m going to bed. Mr Kang, won’t you accompany me?”

Mr Kang gets up begrudgingly and you’re about to ask them to stay longer when Kunhang turns to you enthusiastically. “Good night, (name). Don’t have too much fun. Although, I suppose there’s no better time to have too much fun either.”

You watch with furrowed brows as the two disappear into the doorway and down the stairs. You spend a couple of moments in silence before clearing your throat. When it goes unnoticed, you turn to Yangyang despite the warmth on your face. 

“It’s not dumb,” he mutters to himself, a little zoned out.

You stare at him for a few moments and the familiar feeling rises in your throat, now with a little voice to accompany it. 

Cute.

You cough, distracting yourself with any and all thoughts you would rather have, even of the zombies. Now isn’t the time—or is it the perfect time? You shake your head, calming yourself.

“Does it… hurt?” You ask, eyeing Yangyang’s arm.

He looks up as if broken from a daze, the campfire lights still dazzling in his eyes. You hold back a laugh. He really is a child; if he’s so easily mesmerized by fires, that is.

“Probably not any worse than the lady I whack-a-mole’d. Now that must’ve hurt.” Yangyang puffs his cheek before looking straight at you.

You stare back. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s said.

“What? I feel bad beating the crap out of zombies sometimes,” he says, scratching the back of his head. 

You hum in response. The thought of Yangyang developing a conscience is almost as bad as having to think about zombies. Though, you’ll have to admit, it does give you a strange relief. Zombies can’t really feel pain—they are, after all, numb in every possible sense—but some part of you wonders if it’s alright like this. Morals and survival aren’t meant to overlap. 

You feel the need to distract yourself with something.

“Hey,” you call, moving closer to Yangyang such that your shoulders almost touch. Before you know it, you brush the hair from his face, trying to style the mess into something more neat—a thing you’ve been wanting to do since the first time you saw him. Every time you’d see the messy mop of hair at an official event of the debate club, you’d have this strong urge and an almost putrid form of annoyance. You still don’t know how he managed to get in.

“You don’t look terrible with parted hair,” you muse. “You could’ve looked more decent at the debates.”

You look down from his hair to see Yangyang frozen, eyes wide as if a deer in the headlights.

“Are- Are you not breathing?” you ask.

Yangyang sucks in a large chunk of air, fast enough to choke on it and break into a coughing fit as he turns away from you. You reach out to pat his back but he waves his hand at you, indicating he’s fine before he can turn to you.

You look at him with no particular emotion, the night breeze having worked its way to you.

“What was that about a gift? Are you and Kunhang getting things for each other without telling me?” you say, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

There's a short pause, filled with the crackling of fire.

“It’s my birthday,” Yangyang says with a small smile as the campfire lights dance across his cheeks.

And yet, the words come out sad as if he’d been waiting for an occasion to tell you. You look at him, eyes widening ever so slightly accompanied by the loss of words and take a sharp breath.

“I’m not going to ask for a gift,” Yangyang teases. “Don’t look so worried.”

You open your mouth and close it again, unable to explain the gentle wash of sadness overcome you when you see just a boy. For all the talking he does, he never asks for much. 

“I mean, I- I liked spending the day with you. Why do you look so sad? Did I say something? Again?”

You look over his features, from his brow bone to his wide eyes to his lips and the conclusion arrives as gently as the end of the world. What’s the worst that could happen?

You quickly pull him into a hug, still careful of his injury, and a vaguely embarrassing sound escapes Yangyang, something akin to a sheep’s call. He clears his throat which turns into coughing before he can wrap his arms around you, his breathing soft against your shoulder. 

“I’m- I’m alive, you know? I don’t think I’m dying any time soon. I- I can’t even get infected! You know that.”

“That’s not why I’m- I…” You pull back, steeling your eyes so you don’t feel the warmth of embarrassment. 

Just like you prepare for debates, you think to yourself. Maybe Yangyang was right about you being a zombie—the way you follow the same drudging formula.

“I like you,” you say, your words more of a strained whisper but they’re out before you know it. You can fake confidence, you tell yourself. It’s horrible timing and spending your (potentially) last days with someone who rejected you is just another way to shoot yourself in the foot.

But part of you has been wanting to do this for so long that you almost don’t mind.

Yangyang sucks in a breath, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as he straightens.

“That was- Wow. Okay. I- Uh. Wow.”

You let the heat grow stronger in your cheeks, racking your head for an explanation or even a lie. Maybe you can say it was a mistake. 

“I- I meant…” You lose track of your words. You can’t lie.

“I’ve never been confessed to,” he blurts, and if you squint, you swear you can see him blushing.

“Huh?”

Yangyang coughs again, followed by the same embarrassing sound. “That was- That was the first time.”

The silence between you is accompanied by the crackling of fire and the soft path-making of wind. You’re at a loss for words, something that you should be used to by now—they clearly belong to someone else.

“Oh my god, that was so stupid,” he says, pulling a horrified face as he frantically waves his hands about. “I meant to say I like you too but I- I guess I forgot to say it out loud. Ah, crap- I sound even stupider now, don’t I?”

Your lips twitch, trying to contain your smile but you’re seized with uncontrollable laughter anyway. The mortified expression on Yangyang’s face makes you burst into another fit of giggles before you can somewhat compose yourself.

“I think that’s the longest you’ve been quiet for,” you say in between recurring laughter. “Did anyone ever tell you being able to talk fast doesn’t get you ahead in debate clubs?”

Yangyang frowns.

“Oh, I just joined because I thought it’d get on your nerves,” he says, not a hint of jest in his voice.

You straighten away from him, the smile dropping from your face.

“You can’t be serious.”

He grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and offering no explanation. You huff in exasperation, getting up abruptly to avoid another oncoming headache. It’s a little difficult, considering you have the human version of it right beside you.

“Wait- Where are you going?” Yangyang scrambles up to his feet. “It’s my birthday, you know?”

You turn around and put your hands on your hips, a small smile on your face at the sight of him. “It’s midnight already.”

“Oh. How was I supposed to know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the little rascal is special.

“Hey,” Yangyang calls. “You know, since this is the end of the world and all…”

You stare at him, heartbeat erratic at the lack of distance and despite the fading of teenage fantasies. Yangyang shifts nervously, glancing here and there while simultaneously trying to keep eye contact with you, an action which makes you hold back a chuckle. There’s a particular twinkle in his eyes but he can’t seem to be able to look at you straight.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, finally.

And what a daring end to the world it is.

[batfamscreaming]

superbat highschool au - Halloween

[warning for: non consensual kissing, implied abusive living situations]

As Halloween grew closer, Tommy (bundled up in the same scarf and loafers as Bruce) asked if anyone had plans for the evening. 

--

Clark hadn’t celebrated Halloween in a couple of years now. Not really. Maybe a Halloween party here or there but that was it. Houses were too far spaced out for trick-or-treat back home.

“Uh, I mean I think Bruce ‘n I were going to head to the library again, but--” Clark began, looking to the other boy for confirmation.

--

Bruce began to nod, but--

“No, Bruce and I are gonna go out on the town,” Tommy said, swinging his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and tugging him close. 

“...Tommy, curfew exists,” Bruce said, huffing a little. 

“Not if we break it, it doesn't,” he said, grinning. 

--

“Uh, okay. Is that an invitation then?” Clark smirked.

Breaking curfew once wouldn’t get him expelled.

--

“It can be,” Tommy said. “Harv?”

Harvey gave him a look that called him an idiot.  

“Gotham on Halloween?” he said. “You're not exactly strolling around the hill houses for candy.”

--

“Is it bad?” Clark asked. “I’ve actually never been off school grounds.”

He’d never seen the city.

--

“Halloween’s crazy for crime everywhere,” future lawyer Harvey Dent said flatly. “It's thematic.”

And if Gotham didn't follow a trend towards the thematic… whew. 

Bruce just seemed to be taking a moment to be stunned that Clark hadn't been anywhere outside the school. 

“Okay,” he said, turning to Tommy. “What’s the plan?”

“I was thinkin’ ice cream and bowling,” Tommy said, grinning. “You wanna plan our escape?”

(Bruce had been thinking too much about the library lately. It was time to steer him towards literally any other thinking direction)

And Bruce nodded, accepting that assignment. 

--

“Sounds fun.” Clark said, shrugging on his jacket.

“So how do you usually sneak out?”

--

“Badly,” Harvey said, still crossing his arms and clearly not pleased. 

“Dodge the guards. Hop the gate,” Bruce said. “Not hard. Easier with a rope. Getting in again’s worse.”

“Cause they actually expect it,” Tommy explained before there were any questions. 

“But at least we’re only on the second floor this year. If we weigh down the curtains and leave the window open it shouldn't be noticeable.”

--

“If it helps any I can jump pretty high,” Clark said. “So you shouldn’t have to worry much about me keeping up.”

Totally within normal human standards. Yes.

--

Bruce snorted. Laughed almost. 

“The gate’s ten feet at lowest,” he said. “Plus spikes.”

--

Clark was so stuck between keeping everything under cover and bragging. He could fly since he was 10. Ten feet was nothing. Ten feet was laughable.

He opened his mouth, swallowed, and sighed.

Dammit.

Keep it under wraps.

“Right.”

--

The boys just huddled together again, nodding and still discussing. “So, do we need rope? Or are we gonna be able to grip the bars?”

“I need the rope,” Harvey said miserably. 

“Got it,” Tommy said. “Leave it to me.”

“Please don't steal stuff and get us in more trouble when we get caught.”

“Never,” Tommy promised. “As if Bruce and I would get caught.”

(Bruce laughed then, but it was anxious for different reasons, then.)

--

“I’ll be able to grip the bars.” Clark said, for what little it was worth. For a moment he even considered offering to carry Harvey over on his back, but he thought maybe that was too much.

Could kids his age carry kids their own size on their backs?

He looked pensive for a moment.

…

No. Probably not.

“Anything I can help with?”

--

Tommy shook his head just as Bruce did. 

“Lay low,” Bruce said. “...have any hats?”

--

Clark thought about that before turning and digging through his things.

He slapped on an old, beat up John Deere baseball cap.

--

Bruce made a distressed face. 

“...have any other hats?”

--

“I gotta winter hat but it’s not that cold out.”

…

“What’s wrong with my hat?”

--

“That Bruce’s gotta wear it,” Tommy said, grinning. 

--

… Clark grinned, took off the hat, and shoved it onto Bruce.

--

“Nnnooo,” Bruce said, hat shoved onto his head and shoved down even more securely by Tommy. 

It tilted his dark hair out of place and looked completely out of place with his ironed white oxford and school blazer. 

--

“It suits ya.” Clark grinned.

It really didn’t.

--

“You're a shit liar,” Bruce said. 

“Quick, get the smallest shirt you have, Kent. He still sticks out too much!”

“Just use some of mi--” Harvey started to say. 

But that got hushed as Tommy urged them into a game of Bruce Dressup, and Halloween grew ever closer, until finally the night arrived.

--

Clark couldn’t do anything about Bruce’s very pressed pants, but he could find a small shirt for him.

‘Small’ being relative.

Bruce would drown in it a little, but at least in the end he didn’t stand out so much in his old ratty John Deere hat.

And when the night arrived he followed their lead.

--

….Bruce, unwillingly, donned the shirt and cap when it was finally time, looking a bit more like a ruffian with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the cap on his uncombed hair. 

It made him look shorter. His face seemed rounder. Almost puppyish. 

He was a very determined looking puppy as they rigged up their window so that the corner of the bunk bed jutted into view of the opening. 

Tommy had, indeed, acquired a rope from somewhere, and they tied one end into a loop, tossing it around the shallow jut of the bedpost and getting ready. 

Tommy was lookout as Bruce descended first. 

Then Harvey. They'd wait for Clark. Tommy last. They flicked the rope until it came loose from the bedpost, gathered it up, and raced to the gate, sneaking around the buildings and in the bushes in the low light. 

The gate was closed for the night, and they snuck under the desk guard to reach it. 

Again, Bruce took it first, climbing up between the bars using the traction on his shoe to get up. 

The rope was thrown over between the spokes at the top. Used to control their descent. 

He ushered Clark to mimic him once he'd made it to the other side and decided it was clear. Harvey had to have his foot in the loop and he pulled over to make it. 

Tommy went last again, staying behind to make sure Harvey had someone to catch him if he fell. 

And they were outside. 

--

It was hard for Clark to do things like these guys.

He… might have flown a little to descend out of the window a little faster, but kept his feet on the wall and his hands gripped to the rope so at least it looked like he was doing it like everyone else.

The gate though.

Ugh.

He tried to mimic Bruce as best he could, but it looked a little too… flawless. He didn’t strain or land on the other side very hard.

But they had made it.

… And outside, in the dark, there was even more light for his eyes to catch than usual.

--

He was lucky the boys were largely too focused on their own descents to notice. 

That streetlights were common enough to make his eyes look somewhat normal for the moment. 

Once they were on the street, Tommy and Harvey definitely took the lead, steering them up north of the academy, to a slightly more crowded--and festive--area. 

--

“Is this what you guys do every year?” Clark asked anyone who wanted to answer.

He always kinda wondered what these rich city kids did for fun.

--

“What? No way,” Tommy said. “I mean. That'd be nice…”

Harvey shook his head, too. His hands were wrapped around his elbows in a self-protective hug. “Normally wouldn't be able to get away with it.”

“Besides. Our old roommate was really bad at stuff,” Tommy added. “Like not getting all of us in trouble.”

“Spent last year in detention,” Bruce mumbled. 

(By now, Clark knew that didn't necessarily mean Bruce had done anything to deserve detention. 

It could've just been he'd been around while someone did something. Or been the dorm mate of someone who did something. 

...Harvey’s caving to come made more sense if he would just be punished anyway, if they were caught.)

--

“So, what, you just spend Halloween in your dorm studying? That’s… a lot less than I expected out here.” Clark said, not looking as defensive as maybe he should have been in Gotham of all places, hands in his pockets and head up.

Casual.

--

(Bruce kept his head down and the baseball cap over his eyes.)

“...what did you think we did?” Bruce asked. “Orgies? I'm taking you out for ice cream and bowling, Kent.”

--

“I dunno… parties? I thought that's what rich kids did. Go to clubs. Drink. That kinda thing.”

“... Not that I'm saying I want to do those things, but…” Clark shrugged.

--

All the same, all three kids had paused in walking to stare at him. 

“...I wouldn't even be able to set foot out of the house if Mom had her way,” Tommy said, staring. 

“....” Bruce just had that look on his face. 

“Hey. I worked my way in,” Harvey said. 

“I did too!” said Tommy, turning on Harvey a little. “I had to barter to get here.”

“...”

Bruce shuffled a little closer to Clark and breathed out, “their dads are the ones who drank all night.”

And that was all he mumbled before trying to step forward and break up the fight again. 

The bowling alley would close, late hours or not, if they didn't get a-moving. 

--

“Oh.” He mumbled to Bruce, and started walking too.

“Sorry, I guess the TV makes you think one thing even when it isn't very true. Sounds like I get it more'n you guys.”

--

Once more they turned, surprised. 

“You've fucked?” Tommy said. 

He had definitely pegged Clark for a virgin. 

--

Clark nearly tripped over his own feet.

“N-no!! No! God.”

He was beet red.

--

“Did you mean ‘out’?’” Harvey asked, baffled, at the same time as Tommy said, “oh. Okay. Harv still has company then, at least.”

Bruce could finally see the bowling alley coming up. Extended hours for the weekend. 

Ice cream parlor across the street. 

Yes. 

--

“Ugh, shut up.” Clark groaned, following them while rubbing his face to try and get some of the red from his cheeks.

--

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said, dropping it as they ducked into the building. It was much warmer inside. “...it's not like we have the money to get into clubs or buy alcohol, though. Seriously.”

“TV,” Harvey shrugged, quietly trying to reassure Clark a little that it was fine. 

--

“What’d ya mean? You at least get an allowance, right?” Clark said.

“Even I get an allowance. Or at least paid a little when I help out on the farm.”

--

….Harvey shook his head. “...my family doesn't have the money for an allowance, anyway.”

Tommy just scowled. “If I see any of my dad’s money it'll be long after mom’s died.”

…

Meanwhile, Bruce ducked his head, and pulled out a ten dollar bill, handing it to Tommy, who took it and huffed up to the counter to pay, being the one who was clearly not dark-haired Bruce Wayne in a baseball cap and oversized shirt. 

“...I get an allowance,” he admitted. “But it's not like I’m going to hike ten miles into the city from the manor to use it.”

--

“Jeeze…” He mumbled over Tommy talking about his mom needed to die for him to get his dad’s money.

“I guess that makes sense.” He said to Bruce again, watching Tommy pay for them.

“Thanks for treatin’ us though.”

Even if it made sense Bruce would pay for it. Still polite to thank him.

--

Bruce smiled a little. “Yeah. No problem. It's nice to get out. Thanks for the hat.”

“Shoooes!!” Tommy called once he'd paid, waving them over to change. 

A four player game was being set up for them, the first letters of their names being their designations. 

And ready to go. 

A night away.

--

Clark smiled back.

He got his change of shoes and then looked around for the heaviest ball they had. It still wouldn’t be enough to offset his throw, but it would help. It was easier not to look too strong when you needed to roll it rather than throw it. It was just a matter of dialing back the momentum.

His first throw though it went way too fast. Nothing that would break everything in its way, but still just too fast.

Shit.

He would try and hide his distressed face and play it off and… dial it back for the one after that.

--

The desk manager warned him the ball was probably way too heavy, but thankfully, the other three boys seemed to tack up his wild throw to weight and momentum, laughing wildly as it careened impressively fast-- into the gutter. 

“Beautiful!” Tommy whistled at him. 

“Like you'll do any better,” Harvey said. 

(And Tommy did not.)

But after a few rounds, everyone was adjusting a little better to the balls, and…

Bruce sat beside Clark while waiting his turn, and jeered the others when they missed just like they did him. 

And… seemed relaxed and happy for once. 

Smiling. 

--

“Hah!” Clark hollered as Tommy did just as poorly as him.

As the night went on though he did get used to rolling the ball down the lane and compensating for how little it weighed to him in comparison.

It was a lot of fun.

He cheered and jeered everyone when they did well or poorly, jabbing them with words just the same as they did him. He tended to stick to Bruce more than Harvey or Tommy. They had grown to know each other a lot better over the past month working on their Court of Owls stuff.

It was good.

This was fun.

He was clapping and laughing along with the rest of them, and upon noticing Bruce looked happy too he would give him a little nudge and a smile.

Happy to see him happy.

--

Bruce had gotten a lot better at being casual with Clark with their search together the last month, but-- 

It wasn't as if he smiled much during the investigating. It wasn't like he was giddy over crime scenes. Any excitement he had about finding a pattern quickly turned to seriousness as soon as he had to explain what he’d noticed. 

And in school, he said little. Let people part in front of him or walk by him without any seeming preference. 

But here, finally, it was just fun. 

...through some twist of fate, Harvey’s score was highest at the end of the game. 

They had no real way they planned to reward the winner. But it was fine if they just mocked Bruce's place in dead last. 

He had wonderful aim, after all--if he was aiming for the gutter. 

But when the game ended, Bruce trotted over to the shoes, picking up his and Clark’s, and bringing them back over to change quietly before heading across the street for the last half hour the ice cream parlor would be open. 

Bruce didn't have to tell Tommy what he wanted--a float--but Tommy would ask the other two before trotting up once more with Bruce’s cash in hand to pay and order at the counter while the four slid into a booth. 

And maybe because Tommy was up paying, Bruce found himself sliding in beside Clark to sit across from Tommy, instead of beside him for once. 

--

Clark’s choice of ice cream was pretty much the most boring of all; a vanilla shake.

He sat on the inside by the window, and didn’t think twice about Bruce sliding in beside him.

“How often have you gone bowling before, Harvey?”

--

Harvey shook his head. A lot. “Almost none? I think in Jr High we went once as a class trip, but I was terrible at it.”

“Harv has two settings,” Bruce said, leaning his chin on his hand and very carefully not putting his elbow on the table. “Professional, and worst luck ever.”

--

Clark snorted, “Man now I feel worse, I go bowling like… at least once a year when my friends and I are bored back home. It’s one of the few things to do back in Smallville.”

--

“Yeah?” Bruce said, leaning in a little, interested. “You've mentioned your town a couple times. What's it like?”

--

“Lives up to the name.” Clark smiled. “Small. Bowling alley, gas station, market. Got one street light in the whole town. The farm is about five miles from the center of town, you gotta have a car or a bike to get anywhere.”

“People always hang out by the train tracks or the ol’ Glott farm that’s cavin’ in on itself.”

--

“Does it rain any less?” Harvey asked, a little sardonic, but still listening all the same. 

It was about then that Tommy came back with their ice cream. 

Vanilla shake. Two root beer floats. A sundae. 

But when he made it to the table, he paused before setting things down, as if he had to… look around and see where they were all sitting for a second. 

--

“Yeah but we gotta worry about tornados way more.” Clark said, and was already reaching for his shake since he was the only one to get one by the looks of things.

“Thanks Tommy.”

--

“Y’welcome,” Tommy said, and... passed out the rest. 

Sundae for Harvey. Floats for him and Bruce. He sat across from Bruce at the table, and didn't interrupt the conversation. Just started to drink silently through his straw. 

“...are tornadoes actually like what they say?” Bruce asked. “I read they can pick up a carton of eggs and just set them down miles away, completely intact.”

--

“Oh yeah, they’re capable of some crazy stuff. After one I saw someone’s record just… stuck in a tree. Like it was a razor blade. Powerlines bent over like they were made of playdough. Then sometimes it’ll set a full can of soda down on someone’s steps without a dent.”

He took a sip from his milkshake, oblivious to anything amiss with Tommy.

--

It was a nice way to ease into the later part of the night. A nice wind-down from bowling as they asked questions about Kansas and what it was like to live on a farm. In a small town. 

When his float was almost drained, Bruce stood, saying, “bathroom, be right back,” and turned to head to the back of the shop. 

“Me too,” said Tommy, following along behind him a moment later, wobbling to get out of the table with his long legs. 

(They turned a corner and headed into the boy’s bathroom, and once they were there, door shut against anyone listening, Tommy said, “Bruce?”)

--

“Okay,” Clark said, and thought nothing of it. He slurped the last of his shake through his straw.

But he did overhear their conversation, whether he intended to or not.

--

Neither did Harvey, who had gotten content to just sit and listen after a while, and was now just quietly watching the street go by, trying to find room in himself to finish up his sundae. 

(“Hm?” Bruce said. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, lately,” said Tommy.)

--

… Clark turned and looked in the direction of the bathroom.

He didn’t look too hard. Not yet. But he was definitely listening.

As far as he knew Bruce wasn’t mad at Tommy at all.

Nothing had changed.

--

“Don't lie to me,” Tommy said, voice no louder, but a thousand times more sharp than it'd been a moment before. 

There was a stutter in Bruce’s heart. 

“We tell each other everything,” he said. “I told you everything. And now all you do is hang out with Clark.”

“...we’re just looking stuff up,” Bruce said, voice low and careful. “It's just hanging out. It's different.”

“Really? Because you barely ask to just hang out with me. You were gonna be with him before I got this plan together, you remember?”

There was a footstep. A set of footsteps. Shuffling around. 

--

Clark narrowed his eyes.

He glanced at Harvey, then leaned his head in his hands to try and hide the line of sight to his eyes as they glowed blue and looked harder.

Into the boy’s bathroom.

--

He'd find them both shuffled into the two-stall bathroom, neither in stalls. Just Bruce taking a step back towards the back wall, and the tail end of Tommy moving forward, teeth clenched in distress. 

“It's not like that,” Bruce said, keeping his voice certain, even if he didn't look it. “We came along, we went with your plan, didn't we? You're still my best friend, Tommy, come on--”

“Prove it,” Tommy said. 

“What?” said Bruce, furrowing his nose. 

“I told you everything Bruce,” Tommy said, and took a step forward once more, even without Bruce moving back. “So if you really care then just--”

And Tommy had pushed Bruce by the shoulders against the wall, and pushed their mouths together. 

For a long, silent moment, Bruce just stared, unresponsive at him. 

Then, he reeled back with a punch, and slammed Tommy flat on his back. 

--

Before Clark knew it he had crushed his now empty shake glass in his hand.

“Gnnhshit.” He mumbled, blinking hard and looking away from the bathroom.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

The woman working behind the counter was already looking up and heading towards their booth to see what happened.

--

Harvey practically jumped in his seat at the shattering, turning to stare. “Oh, crap! Are you okay?!”

He grabbed a napkin and started trying to help, dabbing up the spilled milkshake and reaching for Clark’s hand to check for injuries. 

--

“Yeah, I’m-- yeah I’m fine.”

He showed him his hand.

No blood. No glass stuck in it.

“What happened over here?” The woman asked, and Clark mumbled out something that was hard to hear. Something like ‘wasn’t paying attention’ and ‘sorry’.

--

“There must've been a crack in the glass,” Harv reasoned, helping her pick the glass up from the floor and countertop. “It just broke while you were holding it?”

From the back of the shop, two boys exited the bathroom.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asked, coming over. 

(Tommy was quiet, behind him.)

--

Clark started to help too.

“Broke my glass.” Was all he managed, still a little too stunned to say much.

“You kids be careful, I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.” The woman said, trying to shoo them off lest they end up cutting themselves.

--

The other three figured he was stunned from his glass exploding in his hand, and they shyly backed off a bit as the waitress shooed them.

“Sorry about this-- here,” he said, and shuffled in his pocket. 

He pulled out a five. 

“Whatever doesn't replace the glass is a tip,” he said, handing it to her. 

--

“Sorry.” Clark said again, and carefully got out of the booth, picking any glass off his lap if there was any.

“Thank you young man.” The woman said, not recognizing who it was handing her the money.

--

“It's no problem,” he said, but even though she didn't recognize him at that moment, he still was hit by an overwhelming urge to put the cap on and hurry the group outside. 

If Clark had ice cream in his lap, it was wiped off with napkins, and Tommy said, at some point, “we should probably head back.”

He and Bruce left their floats unfinished, and were ready to get out the door. 

--

“Yeah. Good idea.” Clark said, and quickly started to walk towards the door.

God.

Shit.

Things were going to be so awkward back in the dorm.

Should he ask Bruce about it??

--

Bruce and Tommy said nothing. Nothing at all about what happened. 

They followed Tommy and Harvey back to the Academy’s gates and took the rope out of Harv’s bag to throw it up again and get them all over. 

Bruce first. The surest climber. Clark. Harvey. 

Tommy picked up last. A sure climber, but big enough to catch them if they fell. 

They snuck back on campus. Lassoed the end of the bed in their window, and rock climbed their way up the building in reverse order. Tommy lookout up top to keep the knot stable. Bruce, surest climber, getting up when no one would be there to catch him if he fell. 

...once they were on campus, all three boys fell into their usual quiet, reserved for avoiding detection after hours, but still-- Harvey said, quietly, “...thanks for doing this. I think I needed to have a day.”

“Course,” Tommy said, stripping to his Pjs and grinning. “Anytime.”

Bruce nodded too. 

“It was a good idea.”

...he returned the hat. The shirt. 

He tugged on his night clothes too. 

As if nothing had happened. 

--

Clark followed them all in, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the edge of his bed as everyone wound down.

“... Yeah. Was fun.” He said, trying to sound convincing.

It was already way past hours and he didn’t want to risk sneaking out in his street clothes, so even he changed into his pajamas in the room too. At least the lights were off so maybe they wouldn’t notice anything weird.

Not that he was… that weird. A little more jacked than a sixteen year old should be, but it was dark, so…

He hurried through it and climbed into bed.

--

...tonight, they were all a little too distracted to really notice. 

Even Bruce was too tired to have one of his quiet nightmares, which surprised even him upon waking. 

...and upon waking, Tommy and Bruce would get changed together as usual. 

Head off to class after sitting together at breakfast. 

No hint of what had occurred between them the night before.

--

Clark changed in the bathroom again that morning. He was still too self-conscious to do it around everyone else.

He didn't mention anything to anyone. He ate breakfast with the others, went to classes even if it was just him and Tommy in the same one.

Waited until that evening when again it was just him and Bruce walking to the library.

“Hey, so… last night.”

…

“You and Tommy fight or anything? I thought I heard something when we got ice cream.”

--

There was an uptick in Bruce’s heart rate, but his confused expression revealed nothing of the sort. 

“No? Maybe you heard him spook me when I got out of the stall. Wasn't expecting him.”

--

Ah.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Is what he said instead though rather than keep prying. “Just checking that you guys are okay.”

--

“...why wouldn't we be?” Bruce asked, his own thoughts loud panic bells that couldn't be heard by anyone else. 

No one could know. Even if Bruce didn't want it. That didn't matter as much as Tommy had done it and Bruce was a boy. 

And he didn't want to know what their teachers, or the press, or Tommy’s Mom would do if they found out. 

“Is something wrong?”

--

“Tommy seemed kinda distracted I guess. Quiet. Normally he doesn't shut up.” Clark tried to huff a laugh.

“But maybe I'm reading too much into it. I was kinda distracted too.”

--

“He might be tired,” Bruce said, making a mental note to tell Tommy to talk more. (Maybe it’d even make him happy.) “or dreading break,  now that it's officially November.”

November. 

Clark had made it to the third month. 

--

“Dreading-- oh right, he doesn't seem to like his mom very much.” Clark said, wanting to get off the topic he brought up.

“Man I can't wait to go home and visit.”

--

“...it hasn't been a good couple years between them, yeah,” Bruce admitted. “...what are you going to do at home?”

--

Clark shrugged, “See my friends. See Ma ‘n Pa? Pet my dog?” He chuckled.

“... What do you do on break?”

--

“....” Bruce needed to think a moment. “Walk. Mostly.”

--

“... Walk?”

It sounded so weird Clark needed to make sure he heard right.

--

...he nodded. 

“Around the grounds. I walk. Maybe read.”

He would definitely read. But. 

Even he got tired of reading. 

A massive manor with nothing to do in it but wander. 

--

…

“Don't have any other family to spend Christmas with?”

--

He shook his head. 

“...the Kanes, I guess. But no. We’re Jewish, anyway.”

“...and Tommy and Harvey’s parents won't let them escape long enough for coming over.”

…

“It's fine,” he said, already sensing the look on Clark’s face. “It's been like this for years. It's not upsetting or anything. Just dull.”

--

“Oh.”

…

“Would you wanna come spend it at my place?”

-- 

Bruce turned to look at him, startled. 

“Huh?”

Like he hadn't quite understood for a moment. 

--

“Do you wanna come spend break at my house? In Smallville?” Clark asked again as though Bruce hadn't heard.

“I'd have to call my parents but I don't think they'd say no.”

--

Before he'd even said he wanted to, Bruce was doing math in his head. 

Clark had been open about how his family couldn't really afford GA. Last minute decision to come. If they couldn't afford that with only one kid it might be rough to take in another and 

(Okay. Okay. What do I have to do to get out. How much money. What did he have to do.)

“Yeah,” he said, calculating the price of a plane ticket if Alfred tried to say ‘no.’ Taxi fee. Plane ticket. Get out. “Yeah, if they say yes-- they don't have to worry about much from me, I can pay for my own food and room if they need me to.”

--

Clark laughed a little, “You don't have to pay for room ‘n food. Maybe bus ticket though.” He stopped and looked around for one of the school's pay phones.

“You got a quarter?”

He would need to call and ask. Letters were too slow for this.

--

Bruce didn't usually carry the money around school, but he dropped his book bag and started rooting around in it for a stray quarter in the bottom, finally coming up victorious. 

--

“Nice, thanks.”

Clark took it and walked over to one of the phones bolted to the wall, pushing in his money before dialing back home.

“Hey Ma. … I'm good. Um, question actually. Would you mind if a friend comes over for break? His name is Bruce. … Nah he's-- well he's Jewish but he usually spends it alone, so-- yeah. He can buy his own ticket don't worry about it. Can he use the guest room? Cool.”

Then he paused.

“Uhhhhhhh okay. Hold on.”

He held the phone to Bruce. “She wants to talk to you.”

--

Bruce’s spine was straight as a rail and his shoulders set, the way they always were when he knew exactly what he wanted and was staring down something in his way. 

He nodded and took the phone. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he said. 

--

“Hello, Bruce? Clark says you're thinkin’ about staying with us over break. I'm fine with that but I need to know, have you run this by your parents?” A kind-sounding woman on the other end asked.

“Oh my god.” Clark groaned, having not gotten to that part yet with her and able to overhear it over the phone. He mouthed a 'sorry’ at Bruce.

--

“My guardian will be fine with it,” Bruce said, not letting a pang of anything show on his face. “He's been hoping I'd find someone to be with.”

--

“... Really?” The woman on the other end said. “I know you boys are at school but is there any way I can call your… ‘guardian’ and make sure?”

Clark was rubbing his eyes.

--

“Yes,” he said. “And if you tell him we called Kansas he’ll handle the distance fee.”

Fine. Fine. 

He gave her the manor phone number. 

“Let me call him real fast and make sure he knows.”

He mouthed to Clark, ‘kidnapping plot,’ and rolled his eyes. 

--

Clark gave him a ‘really??’ look like he didn’t quite believe it, but said nothing.

“Okay, thank you Bruce. Is there anything I should know before you come over? Allergies…?”

--

Bruce nodded, looking bored as sin thinking about it. 

He had to let Alfred know the nice lady on the phone was not trying to get permission to sneakily kidnap him or else he'd never get out of here. 

“No, nothing like that.”

--

“Okay, I’ll make up the guest bed for you. Mind handing the phone back to Clark?”

--

“Alright.”

He did. Handed the phone back. 

Listened from the short distance between them. 

You didn't need super hearing to do that. And Bruce’s ears were still sharper than most. 

--

Clark took the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Is this the Bruce you’ve been writing home about?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure his parents are going to be okay with it?”

“Guardian, Ma. He’s got a guardian. And yeah, probably.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Okay, honey.”

Clark thunked his head onto the side of the payphone and looked like he would rather die. “So it’s cool? You don’t have to worry about him getting there or anything. He can afford a bus--” He paused and turned to look at Bruce.

“You gonna get a bus ticket and come with me or like…?”

--

“However I should get there,” he said, letting Clark suffer. “...might have to borrow your hat again for the first part, if it's a bus from here.”

--

“Yeah he’s gonna get a bus ticket with me.” Clark said. “Anyway we got studyin’ to do so--”

“Okay honey. I’ll call Bruce’s guardian tonight to make sure. But I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”

“.... Love you too, Ma.” Clark said a little quieter before saying goodbye and hanging up.

--

“You've been writing to her about me?” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth. 

--

“Yeah?” Clark said. “I told her I made friends with my roommates. If I didn’t tell her that she’d think I was miserable and alone.”

“... Mentioned we’ve been working on a report, but that’s it really.”

--

… “Oh, okay,” Bruce said, not really sure what the knot in his chest (which was normal to have) meant right now, and whether it was loosening or tightening at that. 

“I'll call Alfred,” he said, starting to dig around for another quarter in his bag. “You can go ahead if you want.”

--

“Nah man, I wanna see if he really does think this is a kidnapping plot.” Clark grinned, leaning up against the wall.

--

“Ugh,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes again and shoving in the quarter. “I'm doing it so he doesn't.”

He dialed a number. Waited. 

“Hello. Alfred Pennyworth. You've reached the Wayne Estate.”

“Hi Alfred,” Bruce said. “I'm going to Kansas for winter break.”

--

“Pennyworth.” Clark whispered in disbelief.

What. A. Name.

--

Bruce turned back to look at him. Whispered: “I could've been a millionaire named ‘Pennyworth.’”

“Oh? I see it's all already been decided then, has it Master Bruce?”

--

“Master Bruce?”

Clark was grinning from ear to ear, like this was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.

Holy crap was he glad he stuck around for this conversation.

--

That one, Bruce kicked him for. 

“...I'm just going to stay with my roommate for a bit. Okay?”

“I see. And which roommate moved to Kansas, again?” Alfred sounded dry. 

“...the new one’s from there,” Bruce said. “Look, his mom’s going to call tonight and make sure it's alright. I've still got plenty of allowance. I'll just pack weekend clothes and head out from school.”

“...I see. Are you sure you wouldn't like to--”

“Yes.”

…

The other side of the phone was quiet for a while. Bruce just stared down at the buttons. 

“Of course,” Pennyworth finally said. “...but please. Try to keep me more upbraided on things, wouldn't you?”

“It's not hard to find o--”

“I’d just like to not have to go searching all the time is all,” Alfred interrupted. And Bruce went silent again. “...I'm glad you've found someone to spend break with. I'll let his mother know it's fine.”

“...thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said. 

And he hung up without saying goodbye. 

--

Clark didn’t move from the kick, but his amusement died a little when things got… not exactly antagonizing between the two, but not fully great either.

“... I’m sure my mom will give him our address and everything.” Clark said when Bruce was finished, pushing himself from the wall so they could start towards the library again.

--

Bruce nodded. Headed off still feeling good about getting out, but… 

Alfred made it hard sometimes. 

“Yeah. He'll ask. What are we looking for tonight?”

--

“Left off with the Belinsky murders.”

[collecting-stories]

Scarefest - Topper Thornton

Request: Can I request a topper imagine where he overhears the reader talking about doing Halloween festivities but the pogues don’t want to do anything so he offers to take her 🥺🥺🥺like a pumpkin patch or a CARNVIAL OMG with haunted houses I love Halloween lmao

Autumn in the OBX | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ ⭐︎*.・✶ ☾ ◦*.⭐︎_

Topper came out of the gym in the country club, Kelce heading straight for the lockers to grab a shower, and stopped when he saw you down the hall at the smoothie bar, talking to the woman behind the counter. You had a uniform in the way of a pair of khaki colored pants and polo tee with the club insignia on it.

“You coming man?” Kelce called from the door to the locker rooms.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just grabbing a water.” He replied, “drank all of mine.”

“Whatever, but I’m not waiting around while you take five years to fix your hair.” Kelce joked, disappearing around the door before Topper could form any kind of comeback.  

With him gone, Topper headed to the smoothie bar. He had seen you over the weekend at a party with your friends and he’d overheard you talking about Scarefest, something that none of your friends seemed even the slightest bit interested in. But overhearing it was like a godsend to Topper, he’d been trying to figure out how to ask you out without you completely shooting him down and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.  

Not to mention, there were none of your pogue friends insight today, “Hey.” 

You looked up from your phone, surprised at the sight before you. “Uh, hey, Topper. Did you need something?”

While Rafe loved to make you run around the club on dumb errands for him, or send his food back a million times just so you could get in trouble, Topper seemed far more willing to just ignore your existence when you were there.  

“No nothing, I was just...heard you mention like heading up to the farm this weekend for scarefest.” He said.  

“I did mention it...to my friends.” You replied, emphasizing the word as a way to remind him that he was, definitely not, one of your friends. Besides, that had been Friday, at the boneyard, and it was Tuesday now. “Why?”

“I was just thinking if you still wanted to go, we could go together.” Topper suggested, leaning against the counter of the smoothie bar in a way that he hoped both made him look cool and showed off his arms. When you frowned and raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, he was tempted to turn right around and head back toward the gym. “What?”

“Nothing. I just...are you asking me on a date Topper? Am I being asked on a date by a kook?” You teased, “Are you Freddie Prinze Jr and I’m Rachel Leigh Cook?”

Topper rolled his eyes at the stupid movie reference. He’d been crushing on you for a while now, a couple weeks after he and Sarah broke up if he was actually trying to put down a timeline, but sometimes he couldn’t decide exactly why. “Do you wanna go or not?”

“I do. I just have one question...”  

“I swear to god...” He warned, already knowing what you were going to say.  

You raised your voice enough as you spoke to draw the attention of some members of the club that were in the lobby area of the gym, doing your best to act as dramatic as possible, “am I a bet? Am I fucking bet?”

“Shut up,” Topper pressed his hand over your mouth, looking around the room apologetically. He could just hear his mom later, telling him how someone at the club had seen him with some girl making a commotion, “you are the loudest person I have ever met.” 

“Louder than that god awful green shirt Rafe works out in?” You said once Topper moved his hand off your mouth.  

“Yeah, louder than that.” 

“Pick me up at 5 okay, I don’t wanna get stuck waiting for the ferry.” You said, agreeing to the date that he was asking you out on. You had heard plenty of shit about Topper simply because he was a kook but you didn’t really know him and you had to admit you kinda wanted to. He was definitely cute even if he wasn’t your usual type. “Will your jeep drive in the cut or does it come to a screeching halt when it senses pogues?” 

“You’re really fucking annoying.” Topper muttered.  

“You’re the one who asked me on a date.” You pointed out, taking a water bottle from behind the counter.  

“And what...you wanna see if you can get me to change my mind?” He joked.  

A voice came over the walkie that was attached to your hip, asking for your help down in the restaurant area and you radioed back that you would be right there. “Well, duty calls, I’ll see you on Friday.” 

-

Topper showed up on Friday at 5p, just when he said he would, and your mom stood at the front window yelling to you in your bedroom about ‘who were you going out with’ and ‘how does a kid afford that kind of car’. You ignored all of her questions in favor of running out the door and getting in the car as soon as possible.  

“Have you done scarefest before?” You asked as you walked through the gates of the farm with him. It was still light out, too early for the haunted house or the hayride but just in time for the other festivities.  

“No,” he shook his head, looking around as he followed you up the hill toward the large barn and pumpkin patch.  

“So, if you’ve never done scarefest before, why’d you wanna come? Tired of the kook parties and felt like changing it up?” You joked, grabbing his hand as you led him through the crowded giftshop and out into the pumpkin patch.  

“You wanted to go and I wanted to go on a date with you, seemed like the logical choice.” Topper replied.  

“You seriously wanted to go on a date with me?” You asked, letting go of his hand to inspect a large barrel of medium sized pumpkins.  

“I asked you out, didn’t I?”

“Who knows why you do things Topper,” you teased, grabbing a pumpkin out and holding it up as you turned around to him, “here, take a picture of me.”

“With a pumpkin?”

“Yeah...uh excuse me!” You called to a woman walking passed, when she turned to look over you held out your phone, “would you take a picture of us?”

“Sure, of course.”

You grabbed Topper’s hand, pulling him close to you, unable to stop smiling when he put his arm around your waist and posed with you while the woman took your picture. It was cheesy, and you would never say it out loud, but you had always wanted to do some basic couples’ thing like this and get your picture taken by some random soccer mom there with her family.  

“Thanks,” you took your phone back, swiping through the three pictures the woman took and zooming in to make sure you looked nice in them.  

“You two are so cute,” she mentioned as she walked off, Topper nodding as if he agreed and replying with a simple ‘thank you’, not bothering with any sort of explanation. Technically you were here together but you weren’t quite together, together.  

“Alright, picture in the pumpkin patch, what other mandatory things do you have written on your list?” Topper asked walking with you through the small crowd. You’d put the pumpkin back, insisting that the local farmer’s market sold them for less and you weren’t wasting money, even Topper’s, on an overpriced pumpkin.  

“There’s food, that’s always a necessity. Or the corn maze...it’s technically for kids, I’ve been tall enough to see over the actual corn since I was thirteen but it’s still fun. Or, the petting zoo, that’s always open. Or we could take the tractor ride down to scarefest, it’s starting to get dark.”  

“Scarefest sounds good to me.” He replied, standing up a little straighter and you smiled at his change in posture.

“Do you scare easily?” You asked, walking toward the tractor with him, still holding his hand. You’d taken it again as you left the crowded pumpkin patch and you had yet to let go.  

“No.” Topper lied. He could barely sit through a scary movie let alone the idea of walking willingly into a haunted house. He didn’t even want to think about the haunted hayride. You climbed on the tractor ahead of him and he finally let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as other couples and groups climbed in.  

“Not gonna lie, I am really happy you asked me to come here. And not just cause I wanted to go to scarefest.” You admitted, turning into him a little so he would hear you.  

“Wow, that’s some compliment.” Topper joked.  

“I’m serious...out of all the kooks, you’re my favorite.”

“There it is.” He said, rolling his eyes at the comment. The pogue and kook dating thing seemed to be working for Sarah and John B, as much as it hurt to see them together in the beginning, and Topper had to admit that it made him wonder if that was possible for you and him. If something more than him being scared out of his mind would come of tonight and the two of you could date.  

Maybe that was too much to hope for.

“What? I’m serious. You’re my favorite.” You replied, smiling, “but only because I’m not counting Kie as a kook.”

“Naturally.”

“Then it’s gotta be Kie.”

“I appreciate that.” Topper said, “nothing like being second best.”

“Well, I’m here with you.”

“Cause I asked you.” He pointed out as the tractor rambled along toward the gate of the haunted house.

“Yeah but I said yes.” You replied. “I was like...how many chances am I gonna get to see you freak out over people in costumes.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head at you while you smiled at him, so tempted to kiss him right then but you kept yourself in check. You were not going to blow this entire date by throwing yourself at him in desperation.  

The tractor left you off at the gate and you dragged Topper through, eager to get in line for the haunted house. While you stood in line with him people outside dressed in costume lurked around, creeping up on people and making them jump. When a guy in a werewolf costume caught Topper by surprise he nearly jumped and you laughed.  

“Just...didn’t expect that.”

“Kinda the point of the haunted house,” you teased, “but you’re scared face is very cute.”

“Great. I’ve always wanted to have a girl compliment me the same way my grandma does.” He groaned as the two of you moved further up in line.

“I could pinch your cheeks too. Just for good measure.” You said, yelping when he prodded your side with his fingers. You smacked his hand away and laughed, “stop.”

“Me? You’re the one antagonizing me the whole night.” He replied. When it was your turn to go inside, he stepped behind you, hands on your waist as you both walked through the door to the haunted house. The immediate flickering of the lights had you reaching for his hand. Even if you weren’t easily scared you hated being disoriented. “Scared?” He asked.

“No.” You promised.  

As you and Topper came out the back door of the haunted house he let out a relieved breath, shaking his shoulders and trying to regain some composure. You turned to face him, walking backwards towards the concession stand that sold hot chocolate and apple cider, smiling at him happily. You looked unfazed by the haunted house and he couldn’t even comprehend how that was possible.

“Wasn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah, awesome. I’m coming back every weekend.” Topper replied sarcastically, following you.  

“We can skip the hayride if you want?” You offered, knowing that he had clearly lied when he told you that he didn’t scare easily.  

“Nah, I’m good.” He insisted. You wanted to go on the hayride and he wanted this to be a great date so that you would go out with him again.  

“Okay.” You waited until he caught up with you, taking his hand and walking normally beside him to the concession, “you want some apple cider or something before?”

“Sure.”  

As you stood in another line with him, arms around him this time as you stood against his side, you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, “I am really enjoying tonight, all antagonizing aside,” you said.

“We can do something else next week if you want?” Topper chanced and you smiled.    

“Yeah, absolutely.”  

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl  @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

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~^~

Thursday, 13:03

Song: Luke Wild - Easier To Lie

Jens watches Lucas smiling at his phone with something clenching in his chest. He’s been tapping away at it all through lunch, while still managing to keep up with the Broerrrs. Jens has been cracking dumb jokes the whole hour, trying to get him to pay attention. He’s only ever rewarded with the same small smile and amused shake of the head. None of the other boys seem to notice, or care much, until Lucas lets out a small laugh at whatever’s on his screen.

They look at him then, Robbe tilting his head curiously around Jens and being the first to broach the topic. “What are you giggling at?”

It takes a moment for Lucas to realise he’s the one being spoken to, to look up and find them all looking back. He blushes slightly at the attention, a pretty red tone creeping into his cheeks, but his smile is casual and unembarrassed. “Nothing, just my friend Isa back home.”

“Just a friend?”

The words slip out before Jens can stop them, unprompted and damning. He resists the urge to look away when he finally has Lucas’s attention, fighting against the heat threatening to redden his own cheeks. His tone had come out light enough, and he keeps his smile the same. He makes the question seem like nothing more than a gentle tease.

“Ahh, is it a special friend?” Moyo adds in, grin cheeky, leaning across the table towards Lucas.

Lucas simply huffs through his smile, shaking his head in denial. “She’s my best friend’s ex.”

“So?” Moyo raises a brow.

“So...it’d be wrong of me to even go there.”

Moyo snorts. “In this group,” he gestures at Jens and Robbe, “there’s no such thing as off limits.”

Lucas sets his phone down on the table and furrows his brows, looking at the boys with a confused smile. “What?”

“Moyo.” Jens looks at him in warning, giving a minute shake of his head as Robbe picks at his sleeve next to him.

Moyo keeps his gaze on Jens for a moment before shrugging at Lucas. “It’s like three separate long stories, man.”

Jens sighs, closing his eyes as Robbe sits up. “Okay, before you make us sound like the assholes, maybe let us speak for ourselves, yeah?”

Moyo holds his hands up. “Bad joke. Sorry.”

“I wouldn’t think you guys are assholes.” Lucas looks between the three of them. “At least, I don’t think you’d set out with the intention of hurting anyone. But you don’t have to tell me,” he adds hastily.

Jens stays quiet, leaning forward and pressing his elbows to the wood of the table, staring through the gap between his friends. It’s difficult, not looking at Lucas when he can feel his gaze, intent and curious.

Robbe, on the other hand, is able to look across at Lucas and give a vague explanation. “He just means that we...could have made some better decisions going into relationships. With Sander and I,” Robbe pauses, licking his lips. “We both still had girlfriends the first time we kissed, for example. And it...complicated some things after that.”

Jens bumps Robbe’s shoulder in a small sign of support, before he can tumble too far back into the memory. Lucas doesn’t seem disgusted or disappointed by the revelation, and his confusion seems to come from one small piece of information.

“You had a girlfriend?”

Robbe shrugs, and his smile is tight. “I had a few.”

“But you said you’re…”

“I am gay. I just didn’t want to be, at the beginning.”

Lucas’s expression turns soft, much more understanding and sympathetic than the boys had managed to be when Robbe came out. It pokes and prods at the sliver of curiosity in Jens’s mind, the little part that asks if Lucas looks too understanding. He shoves the thought away instantly, reminding himself that it isn’t his place, convincing himself that it doesn’t matter, that he shouldn’t care.

“That doesn’t make you sound like an asshole,” Lucas says softly. “It sounds like you went about something a little the wrong way, but that it was still necessary. That you would’ve been a lot worse off if you hadn’t done it. And from what I’ve seen of Sander when he’s with you, I’m betting the same goes for him.”

Robbe’s face instantly lights up in a grin, gratitude emanating from him in waves. Jens takes it in and looks to Lucas with warmth spreading through his chest. He’s been hoping, quietly, that at least Robbe would share his fondness of this new boy, and he feels an irrational pride at the thought of Lucas earning his full approval. Jens has always trusted Robbe’s opinion most. If he likes Lucas, surely Jens hasn’t gone too far wrong.

“It probably would’ve been good to have you here a year ago,” Aaron tells Lucas, scratching at his shoulder and sharing a glance with Moyo.

“Maybe it’s also good that you weren’t.” Moyo’s smile is a mixture of sheepish and apologetic, and he turns it from Lucas to Robbe, only relaxing when Robbe gives a small shake of his head.

Jens bumps elbows with Lucas and does his part of the peacemaking. “Either way, I think it’s awesome you’re here now.”

“Well, I haven’t heard your story yet,” Lucas reminds him. It’s joking, teasing, and Jens deflates all the same. He knows, like Robbe, he went about things the wrong way. He’s always told himself that he was better off for it, too.

It’s just that he didn’t get the same happy ending, and it makes his story seem a little more regretful, and a lot more pathetic.

“Right.” Jens licks his lips, realising he has no idea where to start or how. Lucas watches him expectantly, but with patience, gaze already so understanding, and Jens can’t form any words.

He’s saved from having to by Yasmina, who he hadn’t noticed approaching. She stops at the table with a bright greeting, which they all return as Moyo slides down the bench to make room for her, nudging Aaron out of the way. She perches next to him with an easy smile and directs her initial attention to Lucas.

“Hi. Lucas, right?” Lucas nods and gingerly accepts the handshake she offers. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself before, I’ve been missing out on all the parties. I’m Yasmina.”

“Oh, right.” Lucas brightens. “Amber speaks highly of you. I was wondering when I’d get the pleasure.”

She raises her brows at him as she sets her chin on her palm, and she’s still smiling. “Charmer. These boys could have been doing with you from the beginning.”

“You love us,” Moyo argues, grin cheeky, and Yasmina rolls her eyes.

“She loves me,” Robbe corrects, and Yasmina rolls her eyes again, but she smiles at him, and they know he’s right.

“But you love me more,” she points at him, and it’s Robbe’s turn to raise his brows in curiosity. “Which is why you’ll come to Senne’s Halloween party tomorrow?”

She clasps her hands in front of her hopefully, and while Robbe falters, the shake of his head is resolute. “I don’t think this weekend is going to work for Sander and I.”

Yasmina frowns, but it’s understanding. Moyo, however, appears unimpressed. “For Sander and you, or just for Sander?” At the pause that follows, he shakes his head. “Robbe, you don’t have to babysit him. He will survive a few hours on his own while you go out with your friends. And it’s not even Halloween night, you can still spend that like, cuddling or whatever other gross shit you do with all the shitty candy we get.”

Jens glances at Lucas, and though he looks lost, he doesn’t ask. He catches Jens’s gaze and accepts the apologetic shrug he offers without so much as a questioning look.

When Robbe looks at him, however, it’s entirely questioning. “Will you go?”

“You’re all obviously invited,” Yasmina agrees, still quietly hopeful.

“I don’t know.” Jens resists the urge to sneak another peek at Lucas, not wanting to make his reasons obvious. He doesn’t want Lucas to feel left out.

Truthfully, he just doesn’t really want to go if Lucas won’t be there. He’d made that decision at the start of the week, when the party had first been mentioned.

“Jens, you have to go.” Lucas hits his arm, and Jens whips around to look at him. “Who’s gonna share the bath with me otherwise?”

Jens’s brows fly up. “I thought you were grounded.”

“Not since Tuesday, after a bunch of Halloween decorations and heartfelt talks and a little bargaining. I have a ten-thirty curfew though.”

Moyo snorts, and Jens and Lucas both shoot him a look. “Oh, come on. That’s a bit funny.”

Yasmina shakes her head and smiles approvingly at Lucas. “I’m actually glad. I won’t feel so out of place. Especially,” she adds, twisting back around to Robbe, “if you also come with.”

“Wait, Jens hasn’t even said he’s going yet,” Robbe protests.

Jens is still staring at Lucas. “So, you’re not grounded.”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’. “And I’m already in the Halloween spirit. So you have to take me.”

Jens thinks of the few decorations Lies had berated them into putting up at the weekend, taking Lotte with her to pick them out and coercing Jens into all the hard work. He can’t imagine either of his parents being the ones to initiate it, to make an effort towards the festivities for the joy of their children. They wouldn’t have the time.

But Lucas seems filled with joy at the simple prospect of it, and he’s giving Jens his time.

“I’m going,” Jens tells Robbe.

Moyo snorts again. “Well, me too. And I’m sure Aaron is already one half of fucking Romeo and Juliet or some shit.”

Aaron perks up. “Do you think Amber will want to do a couples costume?”

Moyo looks at him for a moment, then shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous, man.”

The others are already awaiting Robbe’s answer, all staring him down pleadingly, and he brings his shoulders up in a half-shrug before giving in with a sigh. “Okay.”

Yasmina cheers, stretching her arm across the table for a high five. Jens adds onto the celebration with a pat to Robbe’s shoulder, and he catches and returns Lucas’s smile as the chatter continues around them.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: You and Klaus cause some mischief in the local liquor store while Diego does a terrible job at stopping you.

It’s a cold October night, Diego would honestly love nothing more then to cuddle up next to you on your guys bed back in your warm apartment. But the universe appears to have other plans, so here he is, standing behind you and Klaus as the two of you discuss amongst yourselves which brand has the best alcohol. You’re completely oblivious to Diego’s inner thoughts as your eyes scan over the different labels and their prices. You don’t notice when Klaus’ attention shifts from the various beverages to a festive poster on the nearby store window. He chuckles when he spots the poster of Dracula holding a red glass of wine as little black bats dance around him. Klaus’ head turns towards you and then at another store patron who’s just trying to mind their business.

“Vhatch out for Y/N...she’s come to svuck your vlood.” Snickers Klaus in his best Transylvanian accent as he holds up his pointer fingers near his mouth to show off mock vampire fangs. The random lady nearby just gives him an odd look, turning away and making a beeline for the next isle. Klaus snaps his attention back to you as he continues his little theatrics, you just do your best to suppress your laughter.

“Stop it Klaus.” Warns Diego with a brotherly roll of his eyes. You turn to Diego with a mischievous smirk as your eyes playfully darken. 

“He’s right Diego, I’ll turn you into one of my minions.” You retort as you fake growl at him, he just shakes his head as a small smile forms onto his lips. Deciding to have a bit of fun with your two favorite boys, you indulge in Klaus antics.

“I am a vampire seductress who wants something delicious to drink this fine evening. Klaus my dear, pick the flavor.” He nods with a cheeky grin as he turns to scan down the long isle, looking for just the right bottle.

“M’lady whateth should I choose? I’m thinking the most pricey, would you agree?” Asks Klaus, now choosing to really play the part as a medieval peasant of sorts, throwing in an accent and everything. You turn to him, he’s holding up a beautiful ruby red 200 dollar bottle of the good stuff, your eyes go wide in excitement.

“Brilliant. We’ve got our treasure, now let us make off with the loot.” 

“Y/N cover me while I hide it.” Whispers Klaus, you walk over to him and as casually as ever to block anyone’s view from watching as he shoves the expensive bottle into his jacket, like this is the most normal thing in the world. Diego attempts to look over your shoulder to put together what the hell you two are doing. You swiftly twist around to face him like nothing out of the ordinary just happened, you and Klaus definitely did not just steal anything.

“Did Klaus just steal that bottle?” Wonders Diego as he crosses his arms over his muscular chest. You furrow your brows in false confusion while Klaus stops to stare an accusing eye at Diego. 

“What? Did you see someone stealing something?” You ask him casually, he gives you an amusing are-you-actually-kidding-me face in reply. You just smile up at him as sweetly as ever, “That’s illegal you know.”

“Very, so if you saw something you better report it. Never know what kind of delinquents are running these streets.” Adds Klaus with a knowing look, the both of you flash Diego a tight lipped smile before walking past him towards the end of the isle. The both of you heading straight for the glass doors at the front of the store when suddenly Diego catches both your arms, one in each of his own hands, you and Klaus snap your heads to him with annoyed faces. 

“You two aren’t stealing anything.” His voice is serious and calm as his dark eyes flash in between the two of you.

“What’s this Klaus? A goblin trying to take our stash, I think not.” You announce to Diego and Klaus with a sassy hair flip. Diego releases the two of you as he gives you an frustrated glare.

“My vampire mistress will put a spell on you, and HA HA you won’t be able to rain on our picnic anymore.” Whisper yells Klaus as he sticks his tongue out at Diego. Diego lets out a tired sigh, putting his gloved hands up in surrender, deciding it wise to let you two have your fun. He honestly really wants to see if you’ll get caught or not, giving him another reason to possibly catch up on the dealings around the police department. You and Klaus link your arms together as you both continue to walk down the long isle of various alcoholic beverages. When you make it to the carpet at the front door, the 78-year-old half blind cashier calls for you guys to stop and turn around. Your nerves prick, more-so in annoyance then anything else, but like the veteran thief that you are you know exactly what to do to charm the old fart. Giving him the sweetest of smiles you walk in front of Klaus and slowly up to the cash register.

“How’s ya evin’ Marv?” You ask with a bit of Brooklyn charm, you’re a slight regular at this joint and he’s always in the mood to talk to you. Better yet, Marv’s incredibly easy to convince and you’re about to work your magic like a boss. 

“Oh you know, same old same old. Always nice when you come ‘round these parts.” You keep a forced smile as you quickly shift your eyes to the right, catching a surprised Diego who catches your gaze before he heads out the door with a disapproving shake of his head. You turn to fully face Marv once again, batting your lashes like a teen in love. 

“Is that a new shirt? I’m loving the whole Hawaiian floral get up, it adds a bright splash of color to the usual dreary autumn weather.” 

“Oh yeah, you really think so? Aw sweetheart you’re just saying that.” He gushes with a wave of his wrinkled hand. You let out a small fake laugh, keeping the mood light and fluffy, just giving enough time for Klaus to make off with the riches. 

“No I’m one-hundred percent serious it suites you well.....uh anyways..Marv its been a time, but I really gotta go. See ya when I see ya.” You say with a tiny wave of goodbye, but as you turn to leave you “accidentally” bump into the side of a large cardboard cut-out of the latest Budweiser can. It goes down with a less then dramatic crash to the grubby tiled floor. Your head snaps up to Marv with the best sad face you can muster as you clutch your hands together like an abashed Victorian maiden. 

“Shit I’m such a klutz. Your poor sign.” You exclaim, he just chuckles as he walks around to where the sign has fallen. 

“Oh no worries. Anyone coulda sent it tumbling, I’ll just havta move it to the other side is all.” Replies Marv while he leans down to pick up the large cut-out, you give him a friendly smile as he walks over to the other side of the counter setting it down and walking back behind the register. By the time he reaches the counter which feels like a thousand years later, you’ve reached the front doors. You say a last goodbye before hearing the bell chime when you open up the doors and swiftly make your way out of the liquor store. The air is crisp and a burst of wind smacks you right in the face, sending your hair in various directions. You flick it out of your face, unbothered by the current weather conditions you walk further down the sidewalk, heading straight for Diego’s car. Like the sly fox you are, you reach into your coat and casually pull out the concealed bottle of top of the line tequila you may have just stolen. You catch the wide eyes of Diego from inside the car as your face breaks out into a huge smile while you joyously raise your bottle into the air like you’ve just won the World Cup. You quickly open up the passenger side door, getting in and shutting it to keep the cold out. 

“One hundred points for Vampire Seduction.”

“Y/N you sly motherfucker.” Smiles Klaus from the backseat as he shakes your shoulder, impressed with your thieving skills.

“I played that old bear like a violin. He’ll never suspect a thing.” 

“Cheers to that m’lady, we’re like....pirates.... truly amazing.”

“You know Klaus you kinda look like Jack Sparrow, just grow out the hair a bit and find a red bandanna and wallah, pirate.”

“Y/N you’ve just found my Halloween costume. Oh hey, you could be a vampire mistress and Diego could be the seduced servant guy.”

“You two just stole from a store, that’s a crime.” Interrupts Diego like a mother goose telling off her naughty children. You just let out an amused huff of air as Klaus blows a raspberry at Diego.

“Oh come on bro, have a little fun. No cameras and that dude is practically blind. And anyways, look at the cool shit we got.” Replies Klaus excitedly while he holds up his bottle, Diego glares at the two of you as you suppress the urge to laugh once again. He’s so dramatic sometimes with his whole vigilante hero/ failed cop persona going on, you forget that not everything you do is agreed upon in his eyes when it comes to breaking the law. You can’t help it that stealing things with Klaus is incredibly entertaining to you, sometimes being the hero all the damn time can get so boring. 

“Still a crime.” Grumbles Diego, you suddenly lean in close to his face, staring deep into his chocolate irises, his breath catches in his throat. You smirk at him, “Or whatta gonna do pretty boy? Turn us in?” Klaus lets out “ohhhh” from behind the two of you as Diego seemingly forgets how to speak. He looks rather adorable all flustered from your abrupt change in positioning. He opens his mouth to probably reply with something sarcastic or heroic, so to shut him up you crash your lips into his. The kiss is a quick one, but it’s all you needed to do in order to shut that pretty mouth of his. You sit back in your seat, a satisfied smile appearing onto your lips while you hold the bottle of tequila in your lap. 

“Diego she just used Vampire Seduction on you. Y/N that was brilliant, now make him take us to the trampoline park.” Says Klaus while unknowingly breaking the sexual tension between you and Diego. You giggle as Diego blinks, snapping out of the brief post kiss confusion you just handed him. 

“Uh...no trampoline park, you’re going home and then me and Y/N are going to have a fun rest of our night with that bottle of tequila.” Your eyes glance over to a grinning Diego, it appears that your simple plan to quiet him has suddenly turned his mind onto you. And everything he plans on doing with you once Klaus is gone and you’re back at the apartment. You bite your lip in anticipation while Diego drives down the road, your own mind swirling with images of a soon to be shirtless Diego and other fun nightly activities to follow.

[does-this-look-logicality-to-you]

3 and 17 for the fluffy prompts with prinxiety maybe? I love them too much for my own good lol -King anon from your other blog

hello king anon! i’m still not completely convinced you’re not kat, who loves prinxiety probably more than she loves me, but regardless i hope you like this! i’m sorry it’s been so long since you sent this, i

words: 1455 universe: human au characters: Virgil, Roman; mentions of Patton pairings: romantic prinxiety; mentions of platonic moxiety warnings: kissing, otherwise nothing prompts: “i’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.” and “a fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face.”

“Virgil. Virgil, it’s time to wake up.”

Virgil rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. “Gimme ten more minutes, Patt. It’s the weekend.”

“Who said anything about Patt?” Virgil took the pillow off his head and sat up. Sitting there beside him was no other than Roman, wearing a wide grin.

“Bah! Roman!” Virgil threw his pillow at him, alarmed. “Nobody’s allowed to see me without my eyeshadow!”

Roman caught the pillow easily. “I think you look absolutely lovely without it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” He got out of bed, rubbing his eyes.

Roman pointed at the sweatshirt Virgil had on. “Oh, that’s where my favorite hoodie went!”

Virgil felt his face go red. He’d taken it from Roman’s apartment a few months ago, and had been using it as a pajama shirt ever since. It was comfortable, and it smelled like him. “Sorry…”

“No, it’s fine! You can keep it.”

“But it’s your favorite.”

“I can always get a new one. Besides, it looks good on you.”

“Whatever. Can you let me change, please?”

“Go ahead.”

“I mean alone.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“Roman, I swear to God.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going! Sheesh, you’re so mean!” Roman pouted, but Virgil just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Sorry, darling, it’s my job.”

“Just go.”

“Fine.” Roman stood up dramatically, making Virgil snicker, and left the room.

Alone at last, Virgil started getting ready. He slipped out of his pajamas and headed toward his dresser, taking out his favorite t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He grabbed his usual black-and-purple hoodie before heading into his and Patton’s shared bathroom. Falling into his daily routine, Virgil turned on the faucet to heat the water as he ran a comb through his hair. When the water was hot, he doused a washcloth and washed his face, then dried it with the towel that hung on his side. He decided to go for a simple makeup look today, complete with his signature black eyeshadow on the lower lid. Satisfied, he ran his hand through his hair a few times before leaving the bathroom and heading into the kitchen.

Roman was waiting for him there, leaning against the counter and sipping a cup of coffee. He had already poured Virgil his own mug. Upon taking a sip, he saw that Roman had prepared it exactly how he liked it, with the perfect amount of milk and sugar. He sat on the counter next to his boyfriend. “Okay, Princey, this time you’re off the hook.”

“Was I ever on the hook?”

“I’d say breaking into my house while I’m asleep definitely puts you on the hook.”

“Patton gave me the spare key months ago!”

“Yeah, but you at least could have waited until I was awake.”

“I couldn’t wait that long.”

“Why are you even here?”

“I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Why couldn’t you have at least waited for a more reasonable time?” He used the phrase “reasonable time” loosely, as he normally woke up around noon on the weekends.

“Because I missed you, of course.”

“Roman, I saw you yesterday.”

“Yes, but it had been so long since then!”

Virgil shook his head, finishing off his coffee. “My God, you’re such a drama queen.”

“I won’t deny it. Now, may I have my hugs and kisses, please?” He turned to look at Virgil with his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

He feigned exasperation. “Okay, fine.”

Roman pumped his fist in victory

“You didn’t need the puppy-dog eyes, though,” Virgil told him. “Patton’s the only one who can make that work.”

“Oh, you love it.”

“Whatever. C’mon, follow me.” He hopped off the counter, put his mug down by the sink, and headed over to the living room, motioning for Roman to follow. As the other came over to him, Virgil pulled a thick blanket from a trunk by the couch. When Roman reached him, he patted the cushion beside him. His boyfriend beamed and sat next to him, cuddling up to him. Virgil grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch before draping the blanket over them. “What do you wanna watch?”

“I think you know my answer.”

“Yeah, I think I do. Just making sure.” He switched the TV to Disney+, and Roman cheered. “Which movie?”

“Princess and the Frog, of course! I know that’s your favorite.”

“My favorite’s Nightmare Before Christmas, dumbass.”

“It isn’t technically a Disney movie. It was originally released by Touchstone Pictures, because Disney didn’t think it’d do well, and they only bought it out once it succeeded. Besides, we aren’t going to watch a Christmas movie in the middle of February.”

“It’s March. Besides, it’s a Halloween movie!”

“No, it isn’t. It has ‘Christmas’ in the name!”

“So?”

“So it’s a Christmas movie!”

“No the Hell it is not!”

“Prove it!”

“Where does Jack Skellington live?”

“Halloweentown, but-”

“There you go.”

“That isn’t nearly enough proof.”

“Oh yeah?” Virgil whipped his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s settle this.” He opened Google and typed the words “is nightmare before christmas a halloween movie”. “Ah-ha!” He began reading off the first result. “‘In 2017, director Selick definitively declared “it's a Halloween movie” during a Q&A at Colorado's Telluride Horror Show film festival, while two years later composer Danny Elfman told USA Today, “It's obviously about Christmas, but for me, it's a Halloween movie.”’ Boom. I win. Who’s the Disney buff now?”

“Fine, I’ll give you that. It still isn’t Disney, though.”

“Neither are Pixar movies.”

“Are we going to keep arguing about this, or are we going to watch Princess and the Frog?”

Virgil laughed, giving a sigh of mock-indignation. Roman had been right before; he did love Princess and the Frog, often claiming it to be where Disney reached its peak. “Fine.” He opened the “search” tab and typed in simply “the princ”. As he’d expected, the movie they’d been looking for was one of the first results. He clicked on it and clicked play, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pulling the blanket tighter around them.

__

The two of them hardly let go of one another for the entire movie. They entertained themselves by making commentary poking fun at the plot and characters— all in good fun, of course. During the more stressful and nerve-wracking scenes, Roman distracted him by peppering his face with kisses. In contrast, when the more romantic scenes came on, the two of them held one another close as if their lives depended on it. It was nice, spending time together in a casual setting like this.

The movie soon reached the end. “A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face,” Roman said happily as they watched the montage of Tiana and Naveen build their new lives set to Tiana’s interpretation of “Down In New Orleans”.

“Too bad most fairytales don’t have happy endings, and most of the ones that do were changed to be more suitable for kids.”

Roman gently elbowed him in the ribs. “Oh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“That’s kinda my job. Ruining things, I mean.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“I’m not. That’s your department.”

He gasped in mock-offense. “Excuse you! I am not silly! Dramatic, yes, but never silly.”

“Whatever you say,” Virgil replied, giving him a smirk.

“Oh, you stop that!” Roman took his boyfriend by the front of his shirt and kissed him firmly, softening it when Virgil returned it and moved his hand up to tangle it in the other’s hair. Roman started to move into his lap, only to be shoved off.

Virgil broke the kiss. “Not a chance,” he said, gesturing to his legs. “There’s no way these tiny thighs can handle your weight.”

Roman just shook his head and kissed him again, this time pulling Virgil onto his own lap. “That’s better,” he mumbled into the kiss.

When they finally pulled away, Roman reached for the remote. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

“Only if it’s Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“We already discussed this, My Chemical Romantic Interest. That’s a Halloween movie.”

“My Chemical Romantic Interest?”

“What?”

“That’s the dumbest nickname so far. And anyway, time is a social construct. We don’t have to wait until October to watch a Halloween movie, especially not when it’s the best Halloween movie out of all of them.”

“Hmm... you have a point. Fine, I guess I can’t argue with you. So, are we gonna watch Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“We are.”

“Good answer.” He pulled up the movie and, snuggling close to his boyfriend, watched the movie in a comfortable silence.

[thelastspeecher]

if you're taking halloween prompts, maybe Stan and the gucks dealing with the headless horseman coming to the guck farm?

I tapped into my Irish folklore knowledge and did my best to make a kinda spooky story.  Hopefully, I pulled it off moderately successfully!

(Oh, also, this ficlet takes place immediately following the last ficlet I posted, of Stangie going trick-or-treating.)

——————————————————————————————

              Stan parked his car outside the McGucket farmhouse. He grinned at Angie.

              “Damn, we got a huge haul,” he said.  Holding the buckets filled with candy, Angie grinned back.

              “We sure did!”

              “Time to go eat so much we make ourselves sick.”

              “Yeah!  Wait, what?”

              “I’m jokin’, Angie, don’t worry.”  Stan turned the car off and took his bucket from Angie. “C’mon.”  The two got out of the car.  Stan heard rustling.  In his peripheral vision, he could see movement.  He tossed the bucket back into the car and rushed over to stand protectively in front of Angie.  A figure emerged from the bushes.

              “What in the-” Angie started.

              “Back away, Angie,” Stan hissed.  He and Angie backed away slowly.  The figure followed, only to split away from them just as they reached the porch.  Stan watched as the figure headed for a horse tied to one of the porch rails.  Angie suddenly gripped Stan’s arms tight enough that he had to bite back a yelp of pain.

              “Stan!” Angie whispered, terrified.  “That feller don’t have no head!”

              “Yer seein’ things,” Stan said back.  He looked more closely.  His blood ran cold.  Angie was right.  The figure looked exactly like a man, but a man missing his head.  The front door opened behind them.

              “Kids, inside!”  Pa McGucket roughly dragged Stan and Angie in, then closed the door and locked it.  “Sally, the salt.”

              “On it, dear.”  Ma McGucket gently nudged Stan and Angie away from the door.  She laid a line of salt across the threshold. “I can check the other points of entry.”

              “Thank you, sweetheart,” Pa McGucket said.  Ma McGucket left.  Pa McGucket looked Stan and Angie over, relief on his face.  “I’m so glad yer safe.”

              “Uh, yeah, we- we are,” Angie squeaked.

              “What’s the deal with No-Head McGee out there?” Stan asked, jutting his thumb in the direction of said headless man.  Pa McGucket sighed.

              “He’s one of the Fair Folk,” he answered. Angie’s eyes widened.  Stan frowned.

              “The what?”

              “Oh, that’s right.  You wouldn’t know much ‘bout the Fair Folk, would ya?” Pa McGucket mumbled to himself.  “Well, come on into the livin’ room.  We’ll have a chat.”  Stan and Angie followed Pa McGucket into the living room.  Pa McGucket sat in his favorite armchair, while Stan and Angie sat on the couch.

              “All right, explain,” Stan said.  Pa McGucket raised an eyebrow at him.  “…Please.”

              “The Fair Folk have been called many things. They can be found in just ‘bout every place in the world, so’s each culture had their own name fer ‘em.  The one yer prob’ly most familiar with would be ‘fairy’.”

              “Fairy?  That ghost-looking thing was not a fairy,” Stan interjected.  Pa McGucket sighed.

              “The real Fair Folk are a far cry from the pop’lar representation of a lil lady in a sparkly dress and wings.  ‘Course, my fam’ly never called ‘em that.  We called ‘em the Fair Folk, or, on occasion, used the name they gave themselves, the aes sidhe, or just the sidhe fer short.”

              “She?” Stan said, testing out the word.  Pa McGucket nodded.  “That doesn’t sound English.”

              “It ain’t.  It’s Irish.  That’s where my fam’ly came from.”

              “I kinda figured.”

              “I had a feelin’ ya had figured that out on yer own,” Pa McGucket said, a twinkle in his eye.  “Yer quite the clever fella.”  He cleared his throat.  “As I was sayin’, the Fair Folk ain’t the fairy you’d see in a cartoon.  They’re mysterious, magical folk who manipulate perceptions of the world, an ability referred to as glamour.  They live in the hills of the old country, in a world that runs parallel to ours.  If ya wish to visit ‘em, ya need to go ‘sideways’.  At least, according to tradition.”

              “Uh…okay,” Stan said after a moment.  Angie leaned forward.

              “Pa?”

              “Yes, Junebug?”

              “Is the feller outside Seelie or Unseelie?” she asked.  Pa McGucket smiled.

              “I’m so glad to hear that yer pa’s old stories stuck in yer brilliant lil mind.”

              “Pa!” Angie whined.  Pa McGucket chuckled.

              “The Headless Horseman ain’t aligned with either Court.”  Pa McGucket turned to Stan.  “Broadly speakin’, the Fair Folk tend to belong to either the Seelie Court or the Unseelie Court.  ‘Course, there are those, like the feller outside, who opt out of the system.”

              “Let me guess,” Stan said slowly.  “Seelie is good and Unseelie is bad?”  Pa McGucket leaned back in his chair.

              “Not quite.  It ain’t wise to use such human terminology to refer to bein’s what are so far from human.  Their minds don’t work like ours, so their morals don’t, neither.  The Seelie Court is the kinder of the two, yes.  They won’t attack unless ya offend.”

              “That’s nice of them,” Stan muttered.

              “Eh.  The Fair Folk have very specific etiquette to follow, and it’s very easy to accidentally offend.  So even if yer in the presence of a Seelie, yer not out of the woods.  The Unseelie Court, they thrive on pain and suffering and chaos.”

              “So, stay away from Unseelie.”

              “Stay away from all Fair Folk,” Angie said firmly. Pa McGucket nodded.  “Some are kinder than others, but they…”  Angie scratched her cheek.  “They ain’t human.  They don’t think like we do, they don’t understand us, we don’t understand ‘em. Seelie are better, yes, but ya never want to be in the company of the Folk unless yer in complete control of the sit’ation.”

              “Exactly,” Pa McGucket said.  “There are Fair Folk on our property that we have communicated with before, and each time, we determine when and where, and protect ourselves against their glamour.”

              “Wait, what?” Angie asked.  “Pa, you’ve seen the Fair Folk before?”

              “Of course, dearie.  Grandmama and Grandpapa set up our current arrangement with ‘em back when they settled here.  And the Headless Horseman tends to drop by on Samhain.”

              “There are so many new words,” Stan groaned, putting his head in his hands.  “I feel like I’m in school.”

              “I’ve never seen him ‘fore,” Angie said, ignoring Stan.

              “You’ve never been up late enough to see him ‘fore,” Pa McGucket said.

              “The Fair Folk never go sideways to our world unless they have a reason.”

              “Sweetie, they don’t need a reason on Samhain.  It’s as much their celebration as it is ours.”

              “Fine, I’ll bite,” Stan said.  He lifted his head.  “What is Saw-win?”

              “Samhain is an ancient Irish festival to signal the end of harvest and comin’ of winter.  Tradition holds that it is when boundaries between worlds are the thinnest.” Pa McGucket shrugged.  “Don’t know how true that is, but it’s what they say. And it’s when the Headless Horseman shows up, so.”  Pa McGucket looked in the direction of the front door.  “I’m glad that this Headless Horseman appears to be dif’rent to the kind Grandmama and Grandpapa told stories ‘bout.”

              “How so?”

              “He’s never killed anyone by sayin’ their name, fer one thing,” Pa McGucket said dryly.  Stan’s mouth went dry.

              “How long does he stay before leavin’?” Angie asked. Pa McGucket shrugged.

              “Depends.  It could be a while though, you should start gettin’ ready fer bed.  It’s late.”

              “I don’t think I can sleep knowin’ he’s out there,” Angie said softly.  Stan nodded in agreement.

              “I’m not easily scared, but that guy doesn’t have a head.”

              “Don’t worry, he can’t get in here.  Not with the precautions we’ve got: holy water, blessed iron, salt, the whole nine yards.”  Stan and Angie stared at him silently.  “I can go check if he’s gone, though.”  Pa McGucket got up from his chair and headed for the front door. After a few moments, he called back to them.  “Yep. He’s gone.  Come see fer yourselves if you’d like.”  Stan and Angie headed for the door as well, Angie lagging slightly behind Stan.

              When they got to the front door, Pa McGucket had it wide open.  He stood on the porch, surveying the yard with his hands on his hips.

              “See?  No Folk here,” Pa McGucket said cheerfully.  Stan stared.  No one was there.  In fact, he was beginning to doubt he’d seen the Headless Horseman in the first place.

              “They usually leave behind a sign of some sort,” Angie said, brushing past him.  She made a beeline for where the Horseman’s horse had been tied to.  She crouched down, inspecting the soil.  Her eyes widened.  “Stan, come here.”  Reluctantly, Stan joined her.  His blood ran cold, just as it had when he first saw the Horseman.

              In the otherwise undisturbed dirt, there was a set of fresh hoofprints.

[pascalls]

Gazebo of Horrors

Charlie enjoys a Halloween night with the regulars from the bar, solidifying the holiday as his favorite for a number of reasons.

Feat. Lisa, Lenny, Carl, Moe, Barney, Sam, and Larry

Author’s Note: This one’s gay.

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

Charlie couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent night’s sleep. Twisting and turning in his sleeping spot, he was uncomfortably warm. Trapped in the middle of a nightmare, Charlie felt sweat bead at his forehead and the sound of someone giving chase. He ran, unable to outpace whatever it was that was at his heels, sharp, pointed ends of something metallic scraping the concrete as it jabbed at his tail. Only when he turned did he realize that whatever it was looked a lot like Ned Flanders…

He awoke with a start as a clang on the metal outside of his impromptu napping place broke him from his fitful slumber. He sat up, only just pausing before hitting his head on the plastic ‘roof’. Reaching up, he pushed it up and away, peering out and ready to shoot a glare at whoever happened to interrupt his rest when he noticed that it was already evening. Blinking away the remainder of his sleep, he weighed his options. Go back to sleep until morning? Slink out and back to Lovejoy’s before his absence was noticed? 

“Nurse Walker?”

The voice startled him slightly as he turned, spying the familiar face of Lisa Simpson who seemed to be staring at him quizzically. As if he’d grown another head. 

“Were you… sleeping in there?” She asked, pointing at the metal dumpster that Charlie had  emerged from. Astute as ever, he thought. 

“...I might’ve been,” he replied, about to come up with some sort of excuse for why he’d chosen such a place to hide away and nap, but she provided a fantastic distraction as he took in what she was wearing. Definitely not her usual outfit. “...What are you wearing?” 

“Oh!” Lisa grinned with enthusiasm, spreading her arms out and doing a little twirl to show off her clothes; a purple dress with yellow flowers in her hair and a small veil-like addition trailing behind her. “I’m Ada Lovelace! The first ever computer programmer. She was an English mathematician who totally blew Charles Babbage away by utilizing his Analytical Engine in ways he never even thought of.” 

The information sailed right over Charlie’s head, but as he leaned out of his dumpster bed, he watched her with a little smile. Ah, she would go places. Hopefully not into a dumpster like him. But as she spoke, his brain began to putter back to life. Wait. Costume? He glanced down to her hands which held a bag that had to have been half full by then. Full of candy?

His attention drifted to the nearby street as he noted that Lisa was not the only one in unusual garb. Nearby, he heard the telltale voices of Bart, Milhouse, and yes, even Nelson as they presumably trailed along ahead of Lisa. And it was about then that he realized - Oh. 

“...It’s Halloween,” he said, interrupting Lisa’s drawn out explanation of said ‘analytical engine’ and how tragic it was that Lovelace had died at such a young age. Though she was a little frustrated at having been cut off, she responded with a nod. 

“Yeah. Are you gonna dress up as anything?”

Charlie blinked down at her once or twice. Thinking that over. Well. No. Because he hadn’t even remembered that Halloween was a thing. Until just now. But thinking that through even further, Charlie recognized that he dressed up like it was Halloween every damn day. Which meant that… Maybe… Just maybe…

“...No!” He proclaimed, taking a moment to get his legs under him to spring himself out of the dumpster, landing with a rather pleased expression on his face next to Lisa. “For once, I am not dressing up as a damn thing!” 

“Huh. I guess you don’t have to!” Lisa said as she looked him over with a little smile. “It’s like you have a built in costume.” 

“For once, being a terrible, horrible abomination to society is going to pay off, my intelligent little friend.” Reaching down, he gave her a gentle pat on the head and then nudged her in the direction of her brother’s fading voice. “Go on! I’m gonna find some trouble to get up to while I have the damn chance, for once.” 

Lisa didn’t argue. And she made a mental note to herself to not tell anyone that she’d found the normally downtrodden nurse holed up in the trash. He… probably didn’t need that floating around about him. So she gave him a little wave before running after the others, calling for them to wait for her.

Charlie, meanwhile, was rooted to the spot as his mind raced with possibilities. He could do… SO MUCH now. He could go to the store. He could see a movie. He could just WALK AROUND. And nobody would give a second thought about it! For the briefest of moments, he felt… powerful. He could do anything he wanted-

A nearby screech of tires nearly made him jump back and away from the street as the ugly pink sedan that Charlie instantly recognized as Homer’s came to a stop in front of him. The man himself leaned out from the driver’s seat, grinning widely at Charlie as he called out. 

“Hey NURSE! Nice rabbit costume!” Homer yelled. It was clear he’d already had a drink or two, but so had the other six men that were crammed both inside and on the roof of the car. The bar must have been closed, as Charlie noted that the regulars were accompanying Homer on his Halloween joy ride. Lenny, Carl, and Moe sat on the car’s roof, hastily hanging on - presumably, for dear life whenever Homer started driving again - while Barney, Sam, and Larry were crammed inside. Each of them had their own drink in hand and Charlie could hear the clatter of more cans along the car’s floor. They had gotten an early start on the drinking, apparently. 

“Hey Charlie! We’re drivin’ down to Flanders’ to egg his house and knock over his mailbox,” Moe called down to the hybrid. 

“Remind me why we’re doin’ that?” Carl asked, shaking the can in its hand to check its content level. He would need another one soon.

“Be-CAUSE, it’s FLANDERS,” Homer grunted from the front seat. “What more reason do you need???”

“Can’t argue with that!” Lenny had no objections, apparently. And neither did anyone else. Least of all, Charlie.

“Hell yes, I do. Open one of those things for me, will you?” Charlie said with delight as he hopped over, pleased that none of the men seemed to give two shits as to what he looked like as he clambered up and onto the roof of the sedan. In fact, he wasn’t the only one in the festive mood. Homer had made an attempt at being some kind of vampire, but had apparently given up halfway, tying a black shirt around his neck as a cape and smearing what looked like red jelly around his mouth. Lenny and Carl had swapped outfits, Moe would later on describe his usual attire as being ‘the scariest thing you could see in 2020’, and Barney had simply taken a shower and put on a different shirt. A frightening prospect. Larry did not seem to get the costume memo and Sam had mostly his usual attire, except his overshirt shirt was a red checkered plaid pattern instead in a relatively lazy impromptu lumberjack look. 

Charlie felt as though he fit right in, tipping back his head as he downed his first beer and digging his claws into the roof of the car as Homer drove off towards Ned’s. 

As the night went on and Homer’s merry gang of troublemakers stirred up more than enough chaos to fill several Halloween nights with, Charlie found himself laughing, yelling, and being raucous right along with them. There was no shortage of eggs thrown, toilet paper left in the branches of overhanging trees, nor did he turn down the candy they’d nabbed from some of the neighborhood bullies. Charlie considered it teaching them a lesson. They’d live. And while he didn’t normally imagine that he’d pal around with Moe’s regulars to this extent, he had a hard time convincing himself that he wasn’t having more fun than he’d had in ages. At one point, he could have sworn that they passed both the reverend and his wife. What he wouldn’t give to see if Tim had noticed that he was not interested in coming home on time that night...

By the time they’d finished their route around Springfield - and Homer was too drunk to keep driving and not smash into something along the way - the men abandoned the pink carriage in favor of staggering into the nearest park gazebo to lounge around, finish as many of their remaining cans of beer as they could, and generally be a public nuisance. Luckily, they weren’t the only ones out and about, which meant that Chief Wiggum was not likely to break up their after party. Which was just as well. Charlie didn’t need any reason for him to have to return to Lovejoy’s tonight. Nah. He was having way too much fun, even in the sleepy drunken haze that threatened to overtake him as the clock neared midnight. 

“I didn’t expect you to actually loosen up like that.” 

Charlie glanced up from his tenth - or eleventh? - beer, locking eyes with Sam who had staggered over to sit on the steps of the gazebo next to Charlie. Inhibitions gone, Charlie didn’t mind the company. Lenny and Carl were not far away, but seemed to be discussing whether or not a uranium rod would float if placed delicately in a vat of beer. Homer had passed out about ten minutes prior, and Moe, Barney, and Larry were arguing over who had rights to the last few beers in the cooler. 

“I’d forgotten about Halloween,” Charlie replied with a little smile. “The one night where I don’t have to dress up like some kinda… freak.” He sipped at his beer, not bothered by the terminology at the moment. Might be if he were at all sober. But with his head floating pleasantly, he didn’t mind being a little brazen and honest.

“I bet if you just decided t’say screw it one day, nobody would even notice,” Sam continued, pointing at Charlie with the hand that still held his own beer which was nearing empty. 

“Uh-huh. Then I get thrown into the zoo with the crocodiles and you gotta visit me and bring me booze before I go fuckin’ crazy, right?” Charlie shook his head, but he was amused at the thought. 

“I got plenty to spare.” Sam smirked, shaking his can a little and listening to the liquid slosh back and forth. 

“Aw. You’re sweet.” Charlie brought a hand up to his chest in a fake swoon. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.”

Sam laughed, a low, somewhat gravely sound that made Charlie’s ears twitch with interest. They were one step ahead of his brain which was only just registering that… they might have been flirting. And, now that he recalled… it probably wasn’t the first time. The hybrid had been coming to Moe’s on several nights of the week now, staying out late and risking the reverend’s ire while keeping company with the regulars. And more often than not, Sam was included. While he was moderately amused by Homer, Lenny, and Carl’s general conversations that they had, the three jokers hardly caught his attention. Larry still didn’t speak much, and he wasn’t even going to pretend that Barney was ever good for more than a belch or two before he was sufficiently out for the count. 

But on more than one occasion, Charlie lingered behind with Sam. Sometimes not saying much. Just staring absently at the television above the bar. Maybe swapping stories here and there about Sam’s time on the road or Charlie’s general complaints about both Skinner and Chalmers or the Wiggum boy’s predisposition to sticking sharp objects where he shouldn’t. 

On any other night, Charlie might not have given it much thought. It was dangerous to get too wrapped up in a person. Like he had with Lovejoy. Like he’d stumbled into with Chalmers. Neither of which seemed to give him the feedback he was looking for. And on any other night, that fear might have kept him from going down that same path. But as he listened to Sam’s laugh which made his own mouth tilt upwards into a smile… Well… he couldn’t help it. They were already sitting so close and… Charlie’s head was already spinning and he swore he probably smelled like beer, cigarettes, and maybe eggs, but…

The liquid courage was not one to be ignored. He held his breath and leaned forward, catching Sam’s lips with his own in a soft, but purposeful kiss. He willed himself to not pay attention to anything - except maybe the faint sound of blaring music somewhere off in the distance - hoping against hope that he was not going to be pushed away. 

And he wasn’t.

But he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing either. 

He broke the kiss after a moment or two, pulling back as his ears pinned themselves against his hair and he let out a little nervous laugh. Sam’s expression was unreadable. Clearly, he’d been caught off guard, staring at Charlie in surprise and… the hybrid didn’t know what else. But even in his drunken state, his heart pounded with fear and he glanced away.

“Sorry. Uh. Forget that happened. I have had… woof. One too many… hah…” 

His feet wanted him to run, but with so much alcohol in his system, he doubted he would get very far before tripping over his own tail. So there he sat, pointedly looking away and off into the distance, rubbing at his face in exasperation at his own stupid, desperate antics. His chest felt like it was about to burst with anxiety and embarrassment. Christ. He could only hope that Sam was drunk enough to write it off as a figment of his imagination in the morning when they both woke up in their respective beds and pretended that nothing ever happened.

“WELL! I should… go,” Charlie began, finishing off his beer and crushing the can in his claws before tossing it aside. About to get to his feet when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Freezing, he felt the color drain from his face. Oh no. This was the part, wasn’t it. Where his other secret was going to be touted in front of the other men like some kind of hard-won prize. Where he realized that Sam was just another moron in Springfield deadset on making him feel like an absolute freak. Where he was reminded that his decision-making was so incredibly poor that only he could have made the wrong choice three times in a row.

Anger bubbled up somewhere in the back of his throat, but before he could bristle and snap in defense, he was spun back to face Sam, caught by surprise as the man’s mouth met his own once again, this time of his own volition. Confusion replaced the anger that threatened to rise, a little sound of alarm only just being squelched by his steady realization that… He had been wrong.

They were both drunk, but Charlie shoved the thought to the side as he closed his eyes, suddenly drifting along a sea of contentment as he allowed himself to be pulled into that second kiss. He forgot that Lenny and Carl were sitting just on the other side of the gazebo. He forgot that Moe and the others were not far either. He forgot that he was kissing another man. He forgot… everything. Everything but the feeling of Sam’s lips on his own. They were warm and tasted like Duff, but so did his own. Charlie almost laughed as their glasses clacked gently against each other, but he didn’t care about that either. It was Halloween night and he felt like a giddy teenager, his claws brushing along the steps of the gazebo until they found Sam’s fingers, intertwining their pinkies together as they’d done to seal their promise to not dampen Moe’s spirits. 

Sam didn’t seem to mind, too wrapped up in the kiss just the same. Until they parted and Charlie let himself breath. He was red in the face, he was sure. But he would try to play it off like it was just the beer. Yeah. That’s all it was.

“...You don’t gotta go if you don’t want to,” Sam finally said, his own beer all but forgotten to the side. He was a bit flushed himself, but he seemed to manage it a lot better than Charlie did.

“...You don’t think we’ve gotten up to enough troublemaking tonight, huh?” The hybrid replied in kind, unable to disguise the little grin on his face. 

“Nah. It ain’t even that late yet.”

Sam got to his feet, offering his hand to pull Charlie up along with him. His tail helped him maintain his balance, even as the world tilted and shifted beneath his feet. Wow. He really was drunk. Or… maybe it had just been the kiss. Either way, he was feeling ridiculously topsy turvy just then. And the welcoming smile on Sam’s face certainly didn’t help. Wow. 

Maybe he hadn’t really been fake swooning after all.

“Lead the way,” Charlie prompted, keep himself at the other man’s side with a delighted little rumble of a purr that he did his best to keep to himself. It was difficult. And as they drifted away from the park and back into the street, he absently wished that Halloween was not a once-a-year deal.

When they’d left, Lenny and Carl found themselves staring after the two, still nursing their own beers and watching in a bit of a drunken stupor.

“Did we really just see that?” Carl asked, glancing up at his companion, baffled.

“I think so. Why don’t you ever do that with me?” Lenny replied as he sat atop the railing of the gazebo, his words slurred in his mild outrage.

“Aw shut up,” Carl said, focusing back on his beer. 

He made a mental note to shove Lenny off of the railing before the night was over with.

[sugarsugarmoon]

Broke for Halloween

Summary: Person A and Person B have moved in together just in time for Halloween. Hosting their first Halloween party seems like a good idea until they realize that funds are rather low. Creative DIY decorations last minute makes for an interesting evening.

Genre: Fluff...comedy? maybe? I don’t know it’s just silliness

Warning: recreational alcohol usage

a/n: This is my contribution to the BTS Writing Cafe “Promptly Yours” collaboration. (this is unedited as always)

WC: 1.9k

Living with Hoseok had proven to be a lot more fun than you had thought that it would be. He was a friend of a friend, and both of you were looking for a potential roommate at the same time. You met once before you’d signed the lease on the tiny, slightly run down cottage that you lived in now. The bedrooms were tiny, the bathrooms were tiny, and the kitchen had very limited counter space. There was this charm about it and the overgrown backyard that made you fall in love with it.

Hoseok was an amazing roommate. He always cleaned up after himself and was a lot of fun to hang out with. Your lease started on October 1, and you were so excited to decorate the house for Halloween.

“What do you think about getting a black light?” you ask Hoseok while the two of you sit watching “Sabrina the Teenage Witch.”

“Just for funsies?” he asks, chuckling slightly.

“I mean...it would obviously be fun. But for Halloween. Duh.”

He turns to you and smiles. “Whatever you want to do is totally fine with me.”

You immediately pick up your phone and start to scroll through blacklights online. You sigh slightly to yourself. You’d forgotten that you need money to be able to buy things. While you had enough money to buy the blacklight, that would leave very limited funds for everything else. You had already told a couple of friends that you were going to have a party, without asking Hoseok, but you hadn’t really planned any details.

“Question,” you state toward Hoseok.

“Answer.”

“How do you feel about a Halloween party?” you ask, slightly tentative because you’re unsure what his feelings about parties are.

“Here? That would be awesome!” He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back at him.

The two of you immediately begin planning. You’re in charge of drinks and decorations. Hoseok is in charge of food and music. The two of you immediately get to work. You look at your bank account and, much to your chagrin, realize that most of your money is going to go toward the drinks alone. Moving isn’t cheap, and with deposit, first and last month’s rent, you were pretty tapped.

“Hoseok...I don’t have a ton of money for decorations.”

“I wish I could help out, but with the food that I’ll be buying, I’m pretty cash poor,” he gives you a strained smile, but you can see that it bothers him.

You think for a second. You know that your party would still be fine even without decorations, but you really wish that you were able to do something to make it more festive rather than just a house party. Then it hits you.

“I know!” you exclaim, grabbing Hoseok’s hand. “There are plenty of DIY decorations online. We can use my art supplies to make some!”

You look down at where your hands are joined, immediately flush, and pull your hand away. You look away from him and tuck your hair behind your ears.

“That’s a great idea. Can you find some crafts online? I’ll do whatever you need me to do, just let me know.”

You smile to yourself, and something in your chest flutters a little bit at his words. There was no denying that Hoseok was attractive, but you know that getting involved in any way with your brand new roommate might not be the best idea. So you admired from afar, keeping your thoughts to yourself.

The next day, your best friend, Seoyeon took you out for coffee. You hadn’t seen her since she helped you move at the beginning of the month, and it was nice to just spend time in her warm energy.

“So how is living with that hot boy going?” she asks after sipping her latte.

You choke a little bit on your hot chocolate. You weren’t ready for a question like that, though you should have expected it from her. She had a way of being crass and straightforward about things. She often embarrassed you in public because you were a lot more reserved than her.

“It’s uh...it’s good,” you say, feeling the heat rising in your face.

She laughs and takes another sip of her latte. You can see by the look in her eyes that she’s not going to let you off so easily. You avert your eyes from her, instead looking at the local art that is hung around the shop. Some of it is actually really interesting, and you think that if you had more money right now, you might buy one.

“It’s good, is it?” You can almost hear her raising her eyebrows as you stare intently at an abstract piece on the wall. “How good?”

“Normal good. Roommate good.”

She laughs, and you force yourself to drag your eyes back to her face. The smile on her face is not mocking, but it actually seems empathetic. You are grateful for your friend because, even though she will make fun of you at any given chance, she is still caring and a good friend.

“Look, something is up. What is it?” she asks, her voice kind and caring.

“I just...I kinda grabbed his hand last night and felt - I don’t know - felt something,” you feel the heat building in your cheeks, and you kind of wish that you could disappear into the floor.

The look in her eyes brings you some comfort. “It’s okay to feel attracted to him. It’s okay to like him. I know it’s complicated because he’s your roommate, but you’re allowed to feel your feelings.”

You try to absorb the words and tell her she’s right, but in the back of your mind you know that it would be unwise to try to take things any further with the man you’ve only lived with for a few weeks. It would be great if everything worked out between you, but, you tell yourself, this is just a little crush. It will go away.

The two of you finally change the subject and talk about the things going on in her life. After a while, you split to go your separate ways. You head toward the craft store to gather your supplies.

When you arrive home, you have bags of various supplies, you shout out to Hoseok as you walk in. He appears in the room, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, looking slightly disheveled.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” you ask

“No, I was just napping earlier, and I’ve been kind of just lounging around,” he responds, rubbing his eyes slightly.

You lift up the bags and shake them slightly. “I got the goods.”

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon putting together homemade pumpkins, spiders, and creepy things in jars. Several times, your hands brush each other as you reach for pipe cleaners or construction paper.

4 hours later, your entire living room is covered in glitter, and you wonder how long you will be finding pieces of glitter in your hair and on your skin. You look over at Hoseok, and he has a large piece of purple glitter right on his cheek.

“Hold still,” you say as you lean in toward him.

You gently pluck the piece of glitter off his check, and the two of you stay there, heads close together for a little while longer. You feel the heaviness of the moment, knowing that you could lean your head a little further in and press your lips against his. You consider it, but you decide that ultimately, it isn’t the right time for that. Your heart flutters in your chest as you pull away from him and turn back toward your crafts. You wonder if he is having as much difficulty not kissing you as you are not kissing him.

Three nights later, the party at your house is in full swing. All of your friends are there as well as people you don’t recognize. You assume that these are Hoseok’s friends, but maybe they’re just crashers. The drinks are flowing, the music is loud, and everyone seems to be having a good time.

After two drinks, you are feeling pretty loose. You are standing with Seoyeon, looking over at Hoseok dancing in the middle of the room.

“I’m gonna do it,” you slur slightly.

“Do what?” Seoyeon asks, not following your eye line.

“I’m gonna make a move on Hoseok tonight. I want to do it.”

Seoyeon giggles with glee and claps her hands. “Yasss!”

The two of you are clearly tipsy, but that’s part of the fun. You decide that when he’s done dancing, you’ll approach him. You wait patiently, sipping your third drink and munching on the snacks on the table. Finally, he breaks from the crowd dancing in the center of the room and makes his way to the kitchen.

Seoyeon gives you a little push in his direction, and you head toward the kitchen. You try to act casual, but the alcohol pumping through your veins makes you feel even more awkward than usual. You don’t remember how you normally walk or what you do with your hands when you’re just standing there. Maybe now isn’t the best time. Before you can turn around and change your mind, Hoseok catches your eye and beckons you over.

You close the space between the two of you, probably standing too close to him.

“I think this is going really well,” he comments, taking a sip from his cup.

“Yeah. I’m having a good time!” you exclaim. “You looked amazing dancing out there.”

He chuckles under his breath slightly, “Oh, thank you.”

“Listen, Hoseok, I’ve been thinking-” you start, but you stop when you see Hoseok’s eyes move behind you and light up.

“Oh! Yoongi! Come over here.” He motions with his arm to a man with black hair and a slight frame who has just walked into the light of the kitchen. “Yn, you have to meet Yoongi.”

The man comes over and slips into the space next to Hoseok. He sticks out his hand to you and smiles a friendly smile. You take his hand, feeling how cool and soft it is in yours. Like everything else about him, it seems almost unreal. You’ve never seen someone quite like him, and you’re slightly in awe of him.

Hoseok leans in and kisses the man’s cheek, and you feel your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Yn, this is my boyfriend, Yoongi!” he exclaims, looking so happy to be introducing the two of you. “Yoongi, I’m so happy you’re finally getting the chance to meet yn! You haven’t been over all month!”

You can’t help but laugh to yourself. You never even thought to ask if he had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. You just assumed that you would have seen them. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you comment.

The lust that was running through your body for Hoseok fades into embarrassment and eventually laughter with the two men before you. Later that night, you tell Seoyeon how thankful you are that you didn’t ruin a relationship with your brand new roommate.

[wondershawns]

Spooky Season

A/N: Okay so since halloween is this week the theme was halloween night, and you’ll all be amazed to see I finally wrote a fic that fits the theme (yeah, I know, it’s a miracle). So anyway, this is the last week of @fourtristattoos‘s writing festival and it’s kinda sad, but I really like this piece, and I hope you guys will too. It’s 5.5k of Shawn being the cutest boyfriend. (Also gets slightly steamy at the end so here’s a warning.)

.

“Shit you look so hot.” Shawn gaped when you walked out of the bathroom in the tight black dress. It didn’t have anything fancy on it, it was just smooth and tight, and it stopped a few inches below your butt.

“Close your mouth Shawn,” You giggled, tugging at the dress to cover your chest a bit more.

“Wait, no,” He took your hands. “It looks good like that,” He made sure it was smooth on your back too and you blushed. “‘Kay, I’ll get dressed.”

          You worked on your makeup in front of a mirror in his room and you were glad that you had already given it a few tries on your own. You didn’t usually use a lot of dark eyeshadow because it was easy to mess up and you didn’t have time in the morning, but you darkened your eyes and applied a thick line of eyeliner for tonight. You used your eyeshadow and a little bit of water to create black tear streaks down your cheeks, and you smiled when you saw your look coming together.

          Your hair was natural, you didn’t have to add anything to it besides the horns you had bought with Shawn for this occasion. Shawn came out just when you finished applying a bright red lipstick to your lips, and he leaned against the door with a smile.

“You look good,” You grinned, throwing him his horns while you took yours. He caught them swiftly before they hit the ground even though you hadn’t been able to throw them far enough, and he put them on top of his head at the same time as you.

          You tried not to stare at the way his biceps flexed when he had to raise his arm, but you couldn’t ignore how tightly the shirt fit him. He sat on the bed, knowing you had something planned with your makeup for him.

“I’m not gonna have to wear that lipstick, right?” He grinned, thumb brushing over your lip.

          You were glad you used a liquid lipstick that was already dry, you weren’t ready for it to be smudged before the night even started.

“What if I say you do?” You tested how far he’d let you go with the makeup and you were surprised to see he didn’t seem to mind.

“Okay,” He shrugged.

“You don’t, by the way,” You chuckled, grabbing a few brushes and a palette. You were going to stand between his legs to work on his face in the light but he didn’t seem to have the same idea in mind.

“Wait, c’mere, you’ll be closer,” He wrapped an arm around your waist and had you sit in his lap, his free hand held out to hold whatever you didn’t need in your hands.

          You almost rolled your eyes at him but you had to admit that you were pretty comfortable. His thumb rubbed small motions on your waist but he didn’t move apart from that. He opened and closed his eyes when you asked him to, moving his head and staying still so that you could work your magic.

          You didn’t bother with the eyeshadow as much as you did for yourself, you simply used some black and a glittery grey over his eyelids before giving him black tear streaks that would match yours.

“Done,” You smiled proudly when he opened his eyes, but instead of letting you go he pressed a kiss at the junction of your jaw and neck.

“Thank you,” He squeezed your waist before he leaned back so that you could get up.

          He didn’t miss you shiver but he didn’t say anything, he only took the contact lenses you gave him and you both went to the bathroom. You had figured that having two different eyes would be creepier than using two lenses each, so you only had one pack for both of you.

“Okay, right or left eye?” Shawn asked, cutting the plastic bit that held the two red lenses together to hand you one small package.

“Left?”

“Left it is,” He nodded, peeling the protective layer that revealed the liquid and the lense.

          You stepped aside to give him all the space in front of the sink and mirror, and after a few attempts he managed to get it in.

“Oof, that’s weird,” He blinked repeatedly, a few tears leaving his eye.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve worn them before, you get used to it,” He kept on blinking, moving away to let you put yours in.

          After a few minutes of you both blinking and trying not to cry you fixed your makeup and his. You stood in front of his mirror together, outfits complete, and Shawn wrapped an arm around your waist to tug you closer.

“We look really fucking good together,” He grinned, taking his phone from his pocket.

“Are you taking pictures now?” You looked at him in the mirror, proud of your matching demon outfits. Most of the effort was on the lenses and horns, but you both looked hot and a little creepy at the same time, which is exactly what you were going for.

“Just a few? I don’t want to post anything, just for the memories.”

“Okay,” You let him move his arm holding the phone and adjusted yourself accordingly.

“I think our first halloween together is a success,” He grinned, snapping a bunch of pictures.

“The night hasn’t even started Shawn,” You chuckled, butterflies in your stomach.

          Your first halloween together. You knew he said it meaning there would be many more, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to how serious he was with this relationship. You were too, but realistically you had been together for less than a month. You couldn’t ignore that you knew each other well before that, and at first you weren’t sure being with him would be the best idea.

          You had a lot of common friends, you liked the same places, you lived close to each other, and while it was one of the reasons being with him was so easy it also meant that if you didn’t work out it would be a messy break up.

“What’s in your head?” Shawn asked, wrapping both of his arms around you and resting his head on top of yours to look at you in the mirror.

“Nothing…” You replied automatically, and he rose an eyebrow. If there was one thing he had always done even if you were just friends it was encouraging you to speak your mind. You couldn’t deny that talking to him had made it better every time, because even when you thought it might make him mad he just exposed another side of the situation and helped you sort it out. “Okay, it’s stupid,”

“It’s not stupid,” He cut you off, and you nodded because you knew you had to get rid of that habit.

“Fine, I’ve just been thinking a lot, about how we haven’t been together for that long, because it’s all been great so far and I just got in my head and thought breaking up would be really messy since we have the same friends and all…”

“Yeah I’ve considered that too,” He nodded, surprising you. You thought the mention of a break up would bother him even though it was the last thing you wanted.

“And?” You prompted him to continue.

“And I think I found a solution to it,” He shrugged, a small smile growing on his face.

“Enlighten me,” You covered his hands on your waist with yours and he grinned.

“Let’s just never break up.”

.

          You let him drive to the party, singing along to some of your favorite songs with him until he parked close to the house you had been invited to. You gave him your phone before you walked in, it was the only thing you had brought and you didn’t have pockets so you trusted him to keep it for you.

“Don’t go too far, yeah?” He kissed your temple before you walked up to the front door and you nodded.

“Like you’re ever going to let go of my hand,” You chuckled, and he rolled his eyes.

          He did let go just to prove his point, but it was only to have it settling on the small of your back instead. You smiled at people you didn’t know to greet them when you walked in, and Shawn quickly tugged you towards the kitchen for drinks. He set the bottle of tequila he had brought on the counter, noticing the amount of bottles that were already there.

“Alright, what do you want?” He grabbed two glasses and set them on the counter.

“I think I’ll stick with the tequila,” You found a bottle of pineapple juice and let Shawn pour the alcohol in first. “Are you trying to kill me?” Your eyes widened at the amount and he chuckled, taking the juice from you and filling both glasses.

“We’ll uber home, I promise I’ll get you home in one piece.” He handed you a drink, and you knew you’d be buzzing from that first one in no time.

“I’m a bit of a lightweight,” You reminded him.

“I’ll be careful with the next ones,” He took a sip from his drink and cringed, it was definitely too strong for a first drink. “At least we ate before coming, I’m not planning on getting too drunk.”

          You laughed at his words and you were right to, because a couple of hours later his cheeks were bright red and he would laugh at just about anything. He had a better alcohol tolerance than you did, but you were much better at drinking games than he was. You took his drink from him when you finished yours, you knew it was stronger but you were pretty sure you could handle it, and you placed a glass of water in his hand to help him get to the end of the night.

“Thank you,” He placed a hand on your bare thigh, he hadn’t realised how bad he needed the water until he took a gulp from it.

“You’re welcome,” You chuckled, taking a sip from his drink that was now yours. “Jesus fucking christ,” You made a face when you swallowed. “No wonder you’re fucked, who the hell mixed that?”

“Blame it on Brian,” He giggled, nodding towards the redhead that was sitting right across from you.

“What?” He looked towards you and Shawn at the mention of his name.

“Your drink fucked him up, and it’s about to do the same to me,” You drank more from it and he grinned.

“Good, that was the plan, it’s halloween guys, just have fun.” He got up to grab himself another drink and stumbled on the way there, making you laugh.

          Someone turned the music up soon after, everyone was too drunk to keep on playing drinking games and it was time to stop thinking. You danced with some of your friends, admiring everyone’s outfits and blushing every time they told you how hot you and Shawn looked together.

“I can’t believe everyone keeps on saying we’re hot when he’s just the softest person ever,” You laughed with one of your best friends when you grabbed yet another drink from the kitchen. The music was still loud but it was bearable, and it was the only place you could hear each other.

“Uh, well,” She smirked. “You can’t tell me he’s just soft when you’re in bed.” She teased to which you blushed wildly, not saying anything. “No way!” She gasped. “You haven’t done anything?”

“You know I haven’t!” You defended yourself, hoping no one around was listening.

“No, I know, but you stay over at his all the time, I thought stuff happened.” She moved to a corner of the room that wasn’t crowded and you shrugged.

“Not really, we talked about it,”

“And?”

“And nothing, I always get nervous and he notices everything, so he asks if I’m comfortable and if I say no we just kinda stop and go back to kissing and cuddling.”

“Keep him,” She sighed. “He’s really good for you.”

“Thing is,” You took a huge gulp from your drink, feeling the alcohol coursing through your veins. “I’m not nervous now, I know there’s no reason. He’s so fucking hot and fuck I want him.”

“You go tell him that then.” She giggled, watching you stare at him through the door that led the living room.

“Might as well,” You took another sip of your drink to build up your courage and set it down on the counter before walking towards him.

“Hey hun, you tired?” Shawn asked when you came up to him and wrapped your arms around him to lean on him heavily.

“Just so, so drunk.” You thought about what you wanted to say but you didn’t want other people to overhear you either.

“Me too,” He stumbled back because of your weight and you both laughed, finding yourself a spot on the couch. “Shit, so much for not being fucked tonight,”

“Well I’m not getting fucked tonight,” You mumbled and Shawn almost choked.

“No you’re not,” He quickly caught himself. “But if you’re still up for it tomorrow…”

“Oh my god shut up,” You hid your face against his arm and he laughed. “I hate myself.”

“Mmh, can’t wait to remind you of that tomorrow morning.” He chuckled at your embarrassment, and you already regretted blurting it out like this.

“If you even remember it.”

“Oh I’m not about to forget that.” He grinned, sneaking his hand behind your back to grab your waist and pull you onto his lap.

“Shawn there’s people,” You mumbled, resting your hands on his shoulders anyway.

“No one gives a shit,” He kissed you and you couldn’t help but melt. You kissed him back eagerly, knowing pda wasn’t exactly a thing for Shawn outside of parties where only trusted people were invited.

“Maybe we should head home?” You slid off his lap, a lot of people had already started leaving and Shawn nodded.

          You were leaning on him in the car, mumbling some nonsense that he sometimes replied to. You giggled with him when you walked up the stairs holding on to each other, and it took Shawn a few tries to unlock his door.

“Thank fuck,” You crashed in his couch, finally getting rid of your heels.

          You both got rid of the horns and Shawn made sure you didn’t forget to take the contact lenses out before falling asleep. You were glad to be with him, because if you had been home alone you would probably be crashing into your bed without doing much, but with Shawn you both sat on the edge of his bathtub to brush your teeth.

          You each downed a glass of water and cleaned your faces to get rid of the makeup you were wearing, although you knew you might still have a few black traces under your eyes in the morning.

“Can we go to bed now?” You yawned, sliding the straps of your dress down your arms and pushing it down your body.

“Holy fuck,” Shawn muttered, sitting on the bed and handing you a t-shirt. You didn’t usually change in front of him, but you shook your head to refuse the shirt.

“Too hot,” You got in the bed on your side and Shawn insisted.

“Baby please, just put the shirt on. Sober you will say thank you when you wake up.” He left the shirt near your pillow but you only grabbed it to let it fall next to the bed.

“Don’t care, m’comfy.” You mumbled into the pillow while he got undressed too.

“Fuck it,” He muttered, getting in the bed in his boxers. “Night honey,”

“Night,” You moved closer to give him a kiss, and while you had both been eager to make out earlier the kiss was sloppy because you were both too tired to care. You giggled when you pulled away, and Shawn slung his arm around you, nuzzling his face into his pillow.

“Love you,” He mumbled before he fell asleep, and your heart skipped a beat.

.

“Oh my god,” You groaned when you woke up, realising you were only wearing your underwear. You buried your face in your pillow, releasing a random noise that came out muffled before you turned your head to look at Shawn’s sleeping form.

          You remember the whole night, from that first drink to finishing Shawn’s, and you remembered half falling on him at the party before you came home and decided to go to sleep without wearing pajamas. It was all a bit of a mess but none of it really bothered you, the only memory that stuck with you was Shawn’s last words before he fell asleep.

          Did he really say ‘love you’ or were you just too drunk to remember it right? Maybe you had dreamt it when you fell asleep, surely he didn’t just say it that easily. You remembered everything, the whole night, the moment you got in bed, the familiar weight of his arm around you after he said those words…

“Come back,” Shawn mumbled sleepily when he felt the mattress dip as you sat on the bed.

“Gimme a sec,” You whispered, grabbing the shirt he had tried to give you last night and quickly pulling it over your head.

“Head hurts, want cuddles,” He grasped your empty side of the bed, searching for you until you moved back into his arms. He hummed in appreciation when he felt you again and he squinted his eyes open to look at you. “Please tell me you’re hungover too,”

“Not that much,”

“Uh, lucky.” He grumbled, closing his eyes again because his head was spinning. “I feel like shit, I might still be drunk.”

“If you let me get up I’ll make breakfast, and we can just eat it in bed and fall back asleep.” You brushed your fingers through his curls, knowing he never complained for no reason.

          He always got bad hangovers when he drank too much, tequila just didn’t do it for him, and you wriggled your way out of his arms.

          He mumbled something about cold until you adjusted the covers over his shoulders and you made your way to his kitchen. You easily found hash browns in the freezer and put them in the oven before trying to cook with whatever he had in his fridge.

“You’re amazing,” Shawn rubbed his face to wake himself up when you walked in, the smell of food motivating him to sit up. “Thank you.” He took the plates from you and let you climb back next to him with the forks.

“You’re welcome,” You kissed his cheek and took your plate back to set it in your lap.

          You didn’t talk much as you ate, and the plates ended up piled on his nightstand because none of you wanted to get up. The food had brought some colour back to his cheeks, but he still slid back into the bed and tugged on your hand to encourage you to do the same.

“C’mere,” You shuffled closer and let him rest his heavy head on your chest.

          He fell back asleep within minutes after you started playing with his hair, and you followed soon after until the sun was high up in the sky.

.

“How much of last night do you remember?” Shawn yawned, grabbing a cushion to put it behind his back on the couch.

“All of it,” You sat cross legged next to him, your third cup of coffee of the day steaming on the table. “You?”

“All of it, I think? I don’t know, I’m surprised I do since I let Brian make me… three drinks?”

“Yeah, three, but I finished the third one.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that, best glass of water I’ve ever had. I definitely needed that. Then you got pretty fucked, oh, and you said you weren’t getting fucked and you sounded pretty disappointed,”

“I wish I could disappear right now,” You blushed wildly and he laughed.

“So, you up for it today?” His hand crept up your thigh and you swatted it away.

“No!”

“Fair enough,” He laughed. “Also, you were pretty out of it when we went to bed, what the hell was wrong with putting a shirt on?”

“Says the guy who slept in his boxers!” You defended yourself, watching him shrug in response.

          There was a second of silence between you as you thought back on last night, digging through the memories in your mind. You knew Shawn was probably thinking of the party, but your mind was still fixated on one specific thing and you wouldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Hey Shawn?” It took all of your courage to bring it up, but now that you had said the words you knew you had to keep going.

“Mmh?”

“Before we fell asleep… you said something.” You didn’t expand, unsure of whether or not he’d know what you were referring to.

“Yeah, yeah I remember.” He cleared his throat, staring at his hand before he looked into your eyes. “It was a stupid thing to say… but I meant it.”

          You weren’t sure of what you were supposed to say to that, so you uncrossed your legs and moved closer to him to kiss him softly, hugging him right after and resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m getting there too.” You whispered, feeling his arms tighten around you.

          You spent a lazy day together, and you realised Shawn must have been really hungover to be able to stay still for so long. You knew it wouldn’t last, and you were proven right when he dragged you outside for a walk the next morning.

          You grumbled that it was far too early although he had enough time to go to the gym and shower already, and Shawn did his best to convince you. He got you out of bed with the promise that you’d cuddle up in front of a movie in bed tonight, and it was enough for you to start moving.

          You didn’t hold his hand when you walked in the park, you rarely did anymore. Pictures of you hanging out were already all over social media and you weren’t ready for anyone to know about your relationship, and it forced you to keep some distance when you were out in public.

          Shawn promised that you’d go public whenever you were both ready, but you sometimes felt like there was some kind of pressure on you to let people see you together. He shared a lot with his fans, and you knew he would happily walk with his hand in yours despite what anyone would say about you. You just couldn’t handle the comments and constant scrutinising, especially since he was leaving in a few weeks for the start of his tour.

“Shawn?” You asked between two spoonfuls of ice cream.

“Mmh?” He hummed, waiting for you to continue because he was waiting for the sweet treat to melt in his mouth.

“Do you want us to be public?” You asked and he knew he had to think his answer through before he jumped into anything.

“Eventually I think we will be, why?”

“I don’t know… How do you figure out when?”

“I’m used to people knowing where I am and what I do, it’s part of my job. You’re not, and it’s going to bring a lot of attention to you for sure, so I don’t know when.”

“Yeah… I kinda wish I could hold your hand sometimes.”

“So? Hold my hand,” He shrugged. “We can still be close when we’re out if you want to, as long as we don’t kiss and I don’t say anything it’ll fly under the radar. Worst case there’ll be some rumors for a few weeks, but you won’t even be involved in them because they won’t know your name.”

“What about you? And all of your work with management and promo and stuff,”

“Some part of me wants to keep you hidden, keep what we have private, but it’s not realistic in the long run. You don’t need to worry about my work either, as shitty as it’s going to sound rumors just bring more exposure, and if you’re thinking of interviews I blacklist relationships all the time, so they wouldn’t mention it.”

“So I can hold your hand in public?” You grinned and he nodded with a smile.

“Honestly if there’s ever pictures of us anywhere people will talk even if you’re not holding my hand, we might as well not give a shit.”

“I like your thinking.”

.

          It was late when you came home, your walk had turned into a shopping trip that ended with dinner and a movie. You were far from complaining, spontaneous dates were always fun and you knew Shawn was trying to do as much as he could before he had to leave. Rehearsals were taking up most of his time, and while he took a few days to breathe you knew they’d come back full force before the tour.

          You weren’t sure of how you would deal with the distance, but somehow you were sure you could make it work. You had kept a friendship up with texts and occasional phone calls, and now that you were closer you knew he’d call even more often. It didn’t mean you wouldn’t miss him, but you trusted him and he trusted you, you both knew what you were getting into from the start.

          You got ready for bed quickly, but you were surprised to see that he wasn’t sleepy, and you were fully awake too. You talked for another hour, Shawn’s head resting in your lap while you played with his hair and traced soft patterns over his face.

          He was smiling as he talked, and he occasionally grabbed your hand to kiss your palm or your knuckles. It made your heart melt, and you bent down to give him a real kiss.

          What you thought would last a few seconds turned out to last several minutes, and Shawn moved to sit up on the bed with you straddling his lap.

          His cheeks were redder than normal and he could barely keep his lips away from yours. You tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck, knowing he had a thing for that particular spot. His hands roamed over your body before he gripped your bare thighs, making you shiver.

“Can I?” Shawn asked between two kisses, his hands so close to grabbing your butt. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, but you were usually wearing more than just underwear and a t-shirt. You nodded and leaned in for another kiss but he turned his head, still not touching you. “Honey, I need words.” He breathed out against your lips, waiting for you to answer.

“Yes,” You whispered before kissing him again, feeling his hands slide from the back of your thighs to your butt.

          He squeezed before letting his fingers trace over the lace of your panties, holding back a moan when he accompanied you to rock your hips against his. You whimpered when you felt him rub over you and the sound had Shawn’s blood rushing south.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” He left your lips to focus on your neck, his hands still caressing areas of your skin no one ever touched. He traced his fingers up your shirt, feeling the little bumps of your skin over your waist.

          He paid attention to every inch of skin he could reach, he sucked and bit lightly at your neck, trying not to leave marks even though the sounds that escaped you only urged him to keep on going. His teeth tugged at your earlobe when you bucked your hips against him, and the breathy moan you released had him pushing you back into the mattress immediately.

“Wait,” You panted and he pulled away.

“You wanna stop?” He asked, ready to get off you, but you put a hand on the back of his neck to keep him where he was.

“No, please don’t stop,” You shook your head quickly and he gave you a reassuring kiss.

“Shirt off?” He guessed when he saw you lift it over your body hesitantly and you nodded.

“Yeah,” You sat up and his hands covered yours to help you take it off.

“Fuck,” He took you in, watching you shyly try to cover yourself. “Please don’t hide, not from me,” He said softly, resting his weight on his forearm and using his free hand cup your face and run his thumb over your cheek.

          You just about melted with the way he was looking at you, like you were everything he needed in his life, like having you here gave him more than the whole world ever would. His hand moved from your cheek down to your neck, and he let it trail all the way down to your waist before he gave you a kiss.

          All of the urgency that had appeared after you took off your shirt was gone, and it must have been the most gentle kiss he ever gave you. He was slow, barely moving anything apart from his lips on yours, and you relaxed completely underneath him. There was no one else in the world you trusted more than you trusted him, no one’s hands felt safer on your skin.

          He was careful as he moved his lips over your jaw and down your neck until he reached your collarbone. The softness of your skin was making his mind hazy and he travelled down to your chest, looking up at you for approval before he kept on going.

          He took his time with you, every touch was calculated to make you feel good and it somehow comforted you each time. He helped you feel at ease when you had been a wreck just talking about it, and his ability to make you relax helped you focus on how good he made you feel, giving you a high unlike all the ones you had felt before.

          Shawn slowly pulled the covers back over your body as you came down, your eyes still closed. You felt him place a hand on your stomach, and he leaned on his side next to you while he rubbed soothing circles over your skin. You were grateful for the few minutes he gave you to calm down, and when you opened your eyes again you turned your head for your lips to meet his.

          He kissed you softly before he got up, grabbing a clean shirt from his closet that he brought over to you. You put it on and lied back down with him, kissing over his jaw a few times.

“You alright?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear after another kiss.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “What about you though?”

“Not tonight,” He kissed the tip of your nose. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, just come cuddle.” He let you twist in his arms and brought your body close to his to spoon you.

          He kissed the back of your head, his hand resting on your stomach over the t-shirt. You were grateful for the comfort he gave you by holding you, and for several minutes you thought you would never want to move again. Your thoughts eventually caught up to you, as did the need to clean yourself up before falling asleep.

“I’ll be right back,” You whispered, untangling yourself from him.

“Take your time,” He moved his arm away so that you could roll out of bed and disappear in the bathroom. He grabbed your pillow and rolled over when you were gone, hiding his face in it with a stupid grin on his face.

          You used the toilet and splashed some water on your face, biting your lip. You knew you couldn’t stay in there forever, but Shawn did tell you to take your time and you had nowhere to be anyway.

          You settled for a shower, letting the water warm up as you took his shirt off. You took the shower head and held it to your chest as you sat down, resting your back against the cold tiles while the warm water trickled over the rest of your body.

          Nothing had ever felt like this, with anyone. Granted, you didn’t have much experience with other boyfriends, but you were pretty damn sure that none of them could have paid attention to you the way Shawn did.

          You spent a good amount of time in the shower, worrying about random things and smiling to yourself before you wrapped your body in a towel and dried off. You came back to Shawn’s room in the same shirt as earlier and grabbed clean underwear from your bag.

          He gave you a smile before resting his head back on his pillow and closing his eyes, giving you time to put panties on and join him back in his bed. You crawled over to him and kissed his shoulder, resting your head on his chest with your body curled up next to his.

“Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome,” He brought a hand up to your back, securing you against him and closing his eyes until you both fell asleep.

.

tags: @r3ader @everythinghappening16 @sunrise-shawn @alilovesshawn @5-seconds-of-mendes @sleepybesson @definitelynotshawnmendes @chrizzy95 @sunrisebrashx @justanotherfangurl272 @turtoix @mariamuses @tastebaldwin

[365daysoftododeku]

26th December 2019

Author: Karma

________________________________________________________________

Under a sea of lanterns and firework jellies (I see your dragonfly heart take flight, ignite)

“Have fun! Be safe! LINE me when you get home.” Izuku sighs as his friends disappear into the crowds.

Ochako had promised Tsuyu some goldfish, and Kaminari and Iida had a whole date itinerary planned out. The Kendo-Pony-Momo-and-Kyouka quartet were already off on their own double date.

Leaving Izuku as the lonely, singular wheel wobbling down the road. It’s a better existence than the unnecessary third or fifth or even ninth wheel, but being extra always stings at gatherings like this.

Izuku would go home, but there are fireworks to be had, and a surplus of sparklers to light and watch die out.

Heaving the bucket with him, Izuku walks for a long while, until he reaches the old Hachiman shrine that’s leagues away from all the festivities. The worn, faded white torii is settle atop one of the scarce hills in the middle of town, and as such it is always Izuku’s preferred firework viewing spot. He climbs up the grassy incline, clutching his yukata and sparklers close, and slips only once on the wet grass as he goes; he thanks the god of the shrine for the green color of his festival-wear. Finally, Izuku settles well above the line of most buildings, and the world with its busy routines and individual stories passes him by makes him feel small and invisible in the best of ways. His spot, being as far away as it is from the festivities, is completely unoccupied except for himself, and he relishes in, at least, the solitude that the area grants him.

If Izuku weren’t feeling so damn lonely and miserable, he might even feel giddy over the fact that he gets this view to himself.

As it stands, he’s just counting down the minutes until the light show starts.

Start it does, with a few test shots to draw Izuku out of his own head.

The light show is fantastic, as it is every year. Fireworks launch to musical numbers and themes, and two shows even do the same song, a Halloween classic if his American friends are to be believed.

The one that steals his breath, however, is the one set to delicate piano music. Fireworks pop in place, then another, and the effect almost looks like a dragon chasing something in between and around the stars. Firework shells hover and float gently across the night sky, and at one point there are so many of these shells in the air that it seems like a group of fireflies have been unleashed, or like the stars are being brought unto the earth itself. It’s magnificent, it’s mesmerizing, the way the wind blows and curls the smoke around him makes his world feel small and foreign, exotic and the flickers of colored smoke that drift down from the fireworks only add to the mystique of the show’s magic.

Eventually, however, that show ends, and Izuku is left half-listening to the introduction of sponsors and themes for the next group.

Something soft tickles his nose; it seems like one of the parachutes that held the fireworks aloft had come to say hi.

It’s kinda cute, Izuku thinks, it almost looks like a jellyfish. A few bob on the wind in front of him, and he tells them, “A firework jellyfish! That’s what you are!”

As the wind picks up, more of these so-called firework jellies drift downwards toward him, and soon it feels like he’s ended up in some sort of jellyfish field. Some of them still carrying glowing embers and ashes, and the way the small lights from the mirage echo throughout the thin paper makes Izuku feel like he’s opened his eyes to a world underwater in the middle of the day. Lights dance and flicker like candlelight or sunbeams over the thin caps of the firework jellies, and each jelly picks up the light from the next, so that light is everywhere with no definitive source.

It’s only when the sounds of the festival change that he starts trying to escape from the sudden swarm. There’s a snarling nearby that makes Izuku think of the frequent warnings that have been coming about bear sightings, and for one second he’s terrified that one of the beasts has made it into the heart of town.

But as his sight clears and the swarm of jellyfish depart, he sees that the snarling thing is no bear at all. It looks like a flying worm, with a mane of furious red and white hair down its body and teal scales sprinkled in amongst the silver.

It looks almost like one of the dragons of legend.

Izuku hadn’t been aware that a dragon kite had been part of the parade. Or that they had been made so flexible and mobile in the past year.

Something splatters on his cheek, and pieces of paper whap him in the face as the dragon passes over head.

The liquid turns out to be blood, when he drags his fingers through the wetness to examine it, and the papers? Little people cut out of rice paper that take off into the air when he peels them off of him. One of them flutters angrily at him when he pinches its tail to take a closer look. He lets it go in fright, and it immediately soars off after its fellows.

“Ah! Sorry!” He calls after it, but it is impossible to see against the shroud of night.

Izuku peers once more at the blood, and frowns. Was the dragon real? Was it hurt?

Izuku decides, in the small part of his brain not currently occupied with screaming about the existence of dragons, that yes, it must be real, and yes, it must be hurt. That small piece of brain also concludes that it might be the fault of those paper men, and so Izuku hurries to grab his sparklers and lighter.

He sets a handful of them in a fan pattern, and yells for the dragon. “Mr. Dragon! Down here!”

By some miracle or breath of wind, his words are carried up to the dragon, and it arcs into the sky before nosediving at him. Izuku ignites his sparklers and holds them in the sea of papers that trail the dragons, and soon enough, the whole flock is aflame. The dragon hovers behind him and admires his handiwork.

When the sparklers have run their course and the little monsters not but soot and ash in the breeze, Izuku drops the spent impromptu weapons into the water bucket. He stiffens when he realizes that the dragon’s snout is now right behind him, and he can feel breath both searing and freezing through the back of his thin, sweaty summer yukata. His hair stands on end, but after a moment’s stillness, during which the dragon chooses kindly not to eat him, Izuku slowly turns to look into its eyes.

“Wow, even your eyes are two-toned…” Izuku mutters in awe. Because it’s true. Where the dragon’s mane is red and white, where its scales are silver and teal, the dragon’s eyes are brown and blue and striking. All fear is forgotten, even though teeth as big as Izuku’s forearm are hovering near his heart, and instead Izuku chooses to gawk awkwardly at the magnificent creature before him. Even when it opens its maw, the fear does not return, though Izuku isn’t sure if he’s been bewitched or is simply shocked stupid.

“Human.” Comes a soothing voice.

“Uh, ah, yes?”

“You have saved me.”

Izuku scrubs his head, and his hand comes away sooty. “Not really? I just, felt kind of bad that you were being attacked?” A huff of that hot-cold breath has him opening his mouth before he can think his words through. “You’re a dragon, and you can breathe fire, right? Why didn’t you use that to defend yourself?”

The mismatched eyes blink at him. “Because that is exactly what those infernal things were designed to do. I refuse to breathe the fire I inherited from my sire.”

Izuku quickly translates that into normal human speak. “But, but, your father isn’t the one breathing fire for protection here, you are?”

The dragon snorts, and gradually raises its massive head into the night sky, graceful and slow as any swan. “I wouldn’t expect a human like you to understand.” He coils like he’s preparing to launch into the dark shroud around them.

“Wait!” Izuku calls. The teal eye peers down on him. “You’re still hurt. Can I see? I may not know how to treat dragon wounds, but I’m still first aid certified, and I wouldn’t feel right letting you leave without having at least checked out your injuries, and I may not be able to help, but at least you’d know-“

The dragon cuts him off. “Very well.”

Izuku blinks. “Really? I mean, okay. Can you come back down here so I can get a closer look?”

The dragon swoops down once more, obligingly. “You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, I mean, uh, maybe?” Izuku busies himself with looking at the scrapes and paper burs on the dragon’s snout and behind his head. Some of the redness in his mane is from blood, and with a careful hand, Izuku scoops a small handful of water from his bucket and pours it carefully over the non-wounded but bloody parts. Eventually, the ruff of fur runs clean, and Izuku steps back. “All good, sir.”

“…Shouto.” His voice resonates deep like thunder, and comes out of nowhere.

Izuku jumps a little; they’d been silent for so long he hadn’t been expecting a response. He’d figured the dragon would just leave once he gave the all clear. “Shouto, sir.”

The dragon’s form… gurgles? It bubbles and rolls, and soon the dragon explodes into a thousand paper petals. What’s left is a man about Izuku’s age, with striking red and white hair, and eyes that are equally as mismatched. He stands primly in a kagirinu, and he stares in Izuku in way that can only be described as mystified. His voice, when Shouto speaks, is far less thunderous, but no less soothing and mellow. “How did you come to the spirit layer, Izuku?”

Izuku can’t recall having ever given the dragon his name. “I… don’t know? There were firework jellies and then…”

“Firework jellies?” Izuku sees Shouto’s lips and nose twitch.

‘Yeah? The little caplet things that float down after a firework has gone off.” Izuku feels kind of silly for naming them, now.

“No, no, I understand.” Shouto sighs, looks around, and holds out his arm to Izuku. “Would you… like to be shown around? I can give you a tour before you return to the human realm.”

Izuku looks around for the first time, and takes in the world. It is night here too, and a blood red, full moon hovers overhead, low and heavy and dripping into the shimmering black waters below it. The world is aglow in flickers of candlelight and red festival lanterns, and Izuku can feel the beat of drums and whistles of the flute inside his chest just as much as he can hear them. “Yes, please!”

Shouto holds out an arm. “Then, allow me.”

Izuku takes it delicately, and is immediately swept down into the heart of the town. The crowds milling here feel the same in energy, but appearance-wise differ so much that Izuku would have to be blind and dumb to miss it. If the dragon-human standing beside him wasn’t proof enough that he was in a different world, then the sight of these bird-headed, many armed, and multicolored peoples would certainly be proof. Several greet Shouto, and gaze curiously at Izuku, but they hardly stop to talk.

“You mustn’t stay longer than the dawn, but there’s much to be seen at this time of year.” Shouto whispers into his ear. They’re moving towards the water, Izuku can tell by the way the moon looms closer in all its red glory.

“That’s okay! I have to go back at some anyways, my friends will worry!” They settle onto some pavement with a view of the lake, or maybe it’s an ocean?

“Mm.”

More of the strange people flutter around, in the stalls and streets behind them, on the shore below, across the water. “Shouto, do you know why I’m here?”

The dragon huffs, and doesn’t look him in the eye. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Izuku leans forward to catch his gaze, to no avail.

“No.” The dragon nods to a feathered man who approaches them, who immediately backs away. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“The show is starting.” Drums start pounding in unison rhythm, and they steal the breath from Izuku’s chest before he can continue with his line of questioning. It’s difficult to talk and even think, when the world trembles so under the weight of the percussion. Screaming whistles accompany shrieking burst of wind, and light filters slowly onto the water. Izuku is so mesmerized by the way the warm firelight interacts with the red light of the moon that it’s only when Shouto places a clawed hand under his chin and guides his gaze upwards that he notices where the secondary lights are coming from.

Ships sail across the water, shallow boats with large masts, but instead of being buffeted across the water by sheet sails, lanterns fill the spaces instead. An unmanned fleet of these pour into view, and they swirl once within the waters before heading to shore. As the boats reach the shallows and the ‘sails’ loom overhead, the wood flats morph into animated stick-like men, who pass the masts to waiting people before shambling back into the water.

The men carry their new acquisitions through barely-there paths in the crowds, and as Izuku watches them bounce along the road, embers spark and fly into the night sky.

<img class="mobileimage" src="https://ohmatsuri.com/assets/uploads/reports/003_reh_AkitaKantoTop.jpg" width="60%" height="60%" />

“Come on.” Shouto tugs him to his feet, and they join the ensemble of people who follow the impromptu parade down the road. As they move, music joins the layers of drums and flutes, and soon the lantern sails start swaying in time. The crowd’s moving gains a cadence, and soon the dancing begins. Izuku is dazzled by the swirling colors, but a hand on his elbow draws his focus back to his companion.

“May I?” Shouto murmurs, chin tucked into his chest.

Izuku feels the swaying at his back, and wants nothing more than to join the dance. “Please.”

Shouto takes Izuku’s hand in his, puts the other on his waist, and twirls them into the flow of parade, and Izuku decides to rely on the dragon to guide him and his steps.

Fireworks, small and intimate, launch into the air just overhead of the crowd, and when the cinders float down they don’t burn at all. The contrast of the dark ash and the glowing flickers in Shouto’s hair, with his multitude of colors, only heightens the brightness of his appearance, and the entrancing vision has him stumbling over his feet.

Shouto, thankfully, has quick reflexes, because he pulls the two of them immediately from the crowd and into a side alley, allowing the milling dancers to move past them seamlessly. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, you’re fine. I mean, I’m pretty. Wait, no, you’re pretty fine- Gah!” Izuku’s tongue trips, and he sinks to the ground in mortification.

Thankfully, the dragon doesn’t appear to be offended, because he joins Izuku on the ground, his lips twitching.

“You’re laughing at me.” Izuku moans.

“Perhaps a bit.” The dragon’s eyes crinkle. “You think I’m pretty, huh?”

Izuku groans, and curls into himself further. “You’re a bully.”

“I’m not hearing a no.” He rises to his feet. “Come on, there’s still a bit of time before you have to head back.”

Izuku peeks out of the shelter of his arms, to see a hand stretched out to him; his face lights up even as a grin splits his face. “Ugh, fine.” He remains hidden until he can school the grin off of his face, but the redness won’t go away.

The hand tugs him to his feet when he grasps it, and then the two of them move back into the crowd. The sails have long since moved on, but their light bounces back across every surface, so that the world remains aglow in fire. The dance has shifted, to something light of foot, and now there’s a layer of people dance through the sky above the ground. It makes for quite a sight, and also for a less crowded street.

Shouto must follow his gaze, or at least see the way Izuku can’t look away from the partiers above them, because he asks, “Do you want to go up there?”

Izuku feels his breath catch. “Could we?”

Shouto nods. “Give me a moment.”

Wind tugs at Izuku’s curls, gentle at first, then fiercer and fiercer, until the two of them stand in the midst of a gale. It steals the gravity from them, and weightless Izuku is carried into the sky. Some of the revelers around them shout in outrage, but others seem to enjoy the sudden onslaught of wind. The music swirls in the air around them, just as audible as ever, and Izuku wonders if there’s magic even in the sound here.

“Once more?” Shouto says. Izuku turns back to him, and his silly, hopeful eyes. Like Izuku can answer any other way.

“Of course.”

They dance their way across the night sky, above everyone else, the music and the sparks and the lights chasing their footsteps through the stars. But all too soon, the wind is letting them down towards the earth, and Izuku realizes that they’ve returned to the spot where Izuku first met Shouto.

Looking around, he can see that the eastern sky is indeed gaining some pink light, so distinct from the festive glow of the earth below them.

They delicately alight on the hill, Shouto still supporting him from their dance. They separate, and Shouto slowly, physically turns him, so that Izuku’s back is facing him. “Turn around, face the sun. Put your back to this world.”

Izuku does as he’s bidden, but he can’t just let the night end like this. “Will I ever get to see you again?”

A heavy breath whooshes over his hair, though it’s not enough to hint at a fully sized dragon. Which means that Shouto really is just that close. “I wished that someone would come. That they’d look at this droll, boring world of mine with new eyes and see as something other than my prison. Thank you, Izuku.” Something soft presses into his hair, and Izuku can hardly dare to hope. “Stand on this hill, the night of the full moon, face the west, and we may meet again. Now, close your eyes.”

Izuku does so, thankful that this isn’t a goodbye. That there’s more to come.

The sound of rustling paper returns, and when next Izuku opens his eyes, he’s back in his own world, facing the quiet of sunrise.

The kiss in his head burns and freezes, and Izuku knows it will follow him around until he next sees Shouto.

He can hardly wait.

[emospritelet]

#94 — “I wasn’t expecting a gift,” from the festive fic prompts. Original sin verse, please!

Belle heads to Storybrooke to give Demon!Gold some news...

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [AO3]

x

It was snowing again.

Belle closed and locked the door of the bookshop, turning her face up to the darkened sky and feeling the light kiss of cold flakes on her nose and cheeks. She let out a sigh, blinking rapidly to clear the snowflakes from her lashes, and put her keys in her bag before heading down the street. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and people hurried around her, clutching bulging bags of last-minute purchases. Belle had already made it known by virtue of a card in the bookshop window that she would not be open on Christmas Eve. It would mean that she would lose some last-minute sales, of course, but that couldn’t be helped. There was somewhere else she needed to be.

The wind was biting, and she shivered a little, pushing her chin down into her scarf as she quickened her pace. The neon sign outside Roni’s bar was a welcoming sight, and Belle ducked inside the door, letting a wave of heat and the raucous guitar of some rock ballad wash over her. She stamped snow from her boots, eyes flicking to the bar. Roni, the dark-haired owner and bartender, was deep in conversation with a woman that Belle hadn’t seen before. She was blonde and slender, with pale skin set off by the cream coat she wore above leather pants the colour of tropical sand and a cream turtleneck sweater. The woman had a glass of white wine, and was running a pale finger around the base of the glass as they talked in quiet voices. Roni had a glass in her hand, and was wiping it with a cloth in a surprisingly nervous fashion.

“So, I’m closing up tomorrow around eight,” she said. “If - if you wanted to come over for a drink, or something.”

The blonde woman smiled a little sadly.

“I don’t think my side would like that,” she said, and Roni’s face fell a little before a bright smile curved her red lips.

“Sure,” she said. “I understand. Big night for you guys, right? I don’t exactly celebrate.”

“It’s - it’s not that I don’t want to…”

“Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

Roni turned away, her smile tight, almost a grimace, and Belle felt a surge of sympathy for her. She had never seen the blonde woman before, but there was clearly some history there, and deep feelings that were not remotely one-sided. She hoped they could work it out.

“Hey,” she said lightly, as though she hadn’t noticed their pining. “Man, it’s freezing out there!”

“Belle,” said Roni, looking relieved at her arrival. “You okay? Haven’t seen you in a week.”

“Yeah, I was feeling under the weather,” said Belle, wrinkling her nose.

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

Belle sucked her teeth, then shrugged. May as well tell someone.

“Depends on your point of view, I guess,” she said. “I’m pregnant.”

“A baby?” The blonde woman looked delighted. “That’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.” 

Belle returned her warm smile. Roni’s reaction was nothing more than an upward flick of one brow.

“Oh,” she said. “Uh - congratulations?”

“Thanks.” Belle shrugged out of her coat. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

Roni pulled a face.

“You did look kinda beat last time you were in here,” she said. “When you said you couldn’t face a gin and tonic but scarfed down a bowl of pickled jalapeno slices, I gotta admit I had my suspicions.”

“Is that why you pushed me away from the wine and towards the iced tea?” said Belle wryly.

“Speaking of…” Roni picked up a glass with a questioning look, and Belle nodded, climbing onto a bar stool.

“You got any of those jalapenos?” she asked.

Roni slid a glass of iced tea across the bar towards her, and smirked before reaching for the jar of pickled chilli slices behind her.

“I’m gonna have to get in some more of these,” she said. “Never took you for a spice fiend.”

“Can’t seem to get enough of it right now,” said Belle, eyeing the slices of jalapeno as Roni scooped them up and drained them with the edge of a spoon.

“Is that a pregnancy thing?”

“Must be,” she sighed. “I guess at least it’s more healthy than my old cupcake obsession.”

“Got a fresh batch in today.” Roni pushed a little dish of pickled chillies towards her, and gestured to the plastic cake stand to her left, where sat half a dozen chocolate cupcakes, each topped with a thickly-piped swirl of inky-black frosting and a single dark cherry, sticky with syrup. “Want one? On the house, since you’re eating for two.”

Belle was tempted, tapping her fingernails on the bar.

“Guess I’d better check there’s nothing in there I shouldn’t be having,” she said. “You got a list of what’s in these things? I ate like two dozen of them leading up to Halloween, and they taste too good to be totally healthy.”

“Yeah, I got an ingredient list somewhere,” said Roni vaguely, fishing around under the bar. “The guy that makes ‘em dropped it off. Get a lot of questions about allergies. Here.”

She slapped a somewhat ragged piece of paper on the bar, and Belle looked it over. She glanced up, fixing Roni with a flat stare.

“Activated charcoal?” she said. “You weren’t planning on mentioning that?”

“Oh, yeah, apparently it’s how he got the frosting black,” said Roni, unconcerned.

“Activated charcoal?” said Belle incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I thought it was just regular food colouring!”

“What?” asked Roni, looking confused. “Isn’t it supposed to be good for you? That’s what the guy said, anyway. Some sort of hipster ingredient?”

“Not if you’re on bloody birth control!” 

“What?”

“It screws it up!” exclaimed Belle, throwing up her arms and letting them fall. “You do know that?”

“Uh…” Roni shifted uneasily. “No?”

“Roni!”

“Well, why would I?” she said defensively. “I don’t take birth control! I’m not even sure I understand how it works!”

“I don’t believe this!”

“Seriously, you’ve been handing out cupcakes that mess with people’s birth control?” remarked the blonde woman. Roni put her hands on her hips.

“It wasn’t me!” she insisted. “Do you really think I could do something that evil?”

The blonde woman gave her a very flat look, and Roni huffed.

“Well, I didn’t!”

Belle leaned on the bar with a sigh.

“At least I have an explanation now,” she said dryly. “I thought it was just bad luck. Or - or good luck, I guess. You know what I mean.”

Roni leaned on the bar, putting her head to the side.

“You’re happy about it?” she asked carefully.

Belle took a sip of her iced tea, and smiled as she set down her glass.

“Yeah,” she said. “I am. I mean, it was a shock, not gonna lie, but now I’ve had time to think about it, I’m really excited. I guess the timing isn’t great, but is there ever a perfect time?”

“And the father?” Roni sounded cautious, and Belle sighed.

“Haven’t told him yet,” she admitted. “I only found out yesterday, and - well, he lives up in Maine. Something tells me this needs to be a face-to-face conversation.”

“Yeah.” Roni poured herself a glass of whisky, and leaned on the bar. “Well, I imagine he’ll be pleased to see you.”

“You think?” asked Belle. “We only had one date.”

“Apparently it was one hell of a date.” Roni sipped at her whisky.

“Yeah, but we haven’t managed to cross paths since,” she said. “We’ve been emailing, but - well, I guess it’s a long drive. He said work was keeping him busy until the New Year.”

“So are you going up there?”

“Getting the bus to Maine tomorrow,” she confirmed.

“Hmm.” Roni smirked. “Give the old bastard my regards, won’t you?”

“Do you know him?” asked Belle, confused. “He said you didn’t, but the two of you acted kind of…”

“Kind of what?”

“I don’t know.” Belle popped a chilli slice in her mouth, savouring the sharp heat. “Like you were in some sort of secret society and couldn’t talk about it.”

“Who are you talking about?” asked the blonde woman, suddenly suspicious, and Roni sent her a smile.

“No one important,” she said. “At least not to me. Don’t even know the guy’s name.”

“His name’s Damien Gold,” said Belle, and the blonde woman frowned slightly, as though she was trying to remember something.

“Anyhow, never mind about him,” said Roni hurriedly. “When’s the baby due?”

“July.”

“You know what you’re having?”

“Oh, it’s way too early to tell,” said Belle hastily. “I don’t care, anyway. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well, I wish you every happiness,” said the blonde woman warmly, reaching out to take her hand.

Belle went to take it, opening her mouth to say thank you, when a spark of electricity bounced between them, making them both yelp and jerk back before they could touch. The woman rubbed her fingers on her pants, frowning.

“Ouch,” said Roni. “Man-made fibres, huh? Give me leather every time.”

The blonde woman gave her another suspicious, somewhat weary look, and Belle wondered exactly what it was that was going on between them. She took a sip of her iced tea, picking at the chilli slices as Roni went to serve another customer. Twenty-four hours, and she would be in Maine. Seeing the father of her child. She wondered what he was doing with his day. Whether he had the faintest notion of how his life was going to change.

x

The Greyhound bus pulled into Storybrooke just before seven, and Belle looked around herself as she stepped off onto a sidewalk covered in snow and crisscrossed with footprints. The town looked quaint, the main street strung with festive lights and the shops all sporting decorations. A large Christmas tree sat in a square off to her left, lights flashing red and gold, and she smiled. Storybrooke certainly embraced the Christmas spirit.

Belle clutched her bag in one hand, a holdall stuffed with enough clothes to get her through the next week if necessary. She wasn’t sure how long she would need to discuss matters with Gold. Worst case scenario, he would refuse to have anything to do with her, in which case she would be back on the bus to New York and preparing to raise her child alone. She didn’t think he would cut them off completely, but she was prepared for it nonetheless.

She had called ahead to the only place to stay in town, a bed and breakfast called Granny’s. Finding it was easy; a nearby diner bore the same name, and she could see the inn attached to it. She bypassed the diner and walked up a dark path, the trees lining it strung with coloured lights. The interior of the inn was old-fashioned, but it was clean and comfortable, and Mrs Lucas, its grey-haired owner, seemed kindhearted, if a little brusque.

She did little more than check that her room was clean before dropping her bag on the bed and rummaging in it for the gift she had brought. Perhaps it was foolish, bringing Gold a Christmas present, but she had been poking around the flea market and the item had called to her. She had taken it home and set it carefully in a box, wrapping it in bright red paper with stylised reindeer and Santa figures, and tied it up with a red ribbon. Now that she was looking at it, it seemed garish and somehow insulting, although she wasn’t sure why anyone would be insulted by receiving a present. Telling herself she was nervous, and therefore not thinking straight, she shoved it into her handbag and checked her hair and make-up, reapplying deep red lipstick and pulling her cloche hat back on her head.

Belle had asked Mrs Lucas where Mr Gold’s antique shop could be found, and after receiving a surprised, narrow-eyed look, had been given directions. She could hear the noise from the diner as she passed by: Christmas music and the raucous laughter and cheerful conversation of the diners. It faded as she walked away, down the darkened streets with the snow falling around her and deadening her footsteps. It was late, and she wasn’t sure if she would find Gold in his shop, but the lit sign appeared out of the night, a square of gold against the black of the sky. His was the only shop not decked with coloured lights, the window displaying an old tea set, an ancient globe and a brass telescope, all cushioned on black velvet and lit with a warm, golden light. Perhaps he didn’t celebrate Christmas. It made her feel even more nervous about buying him a gift.

Glancing through the window, she could see him, and her heart began to thump harder. He was standing behind the shop counter, hands poised on tented fingers and his eyes fixed on the door, as though he was waiting for someone. As though he was waiting for her. It made her swallow hard, her nerves increasing. Why the hell didn’t I call, tell him I was coming? What if he has family visiting? What if - what if he has a wife? Is that the reason he didn’t come back? Because he has his own life here? Oh God, why didn’t I bloody well call?

Taking a deep breath, and telling herself to be brave, she pushed open the door, a bell tinkling cheerfully above. It swung shut behind her, and she took a step forward, moving closer. Gold’s dark eyes caught hers, but there was a tiny smile on his face, and it gave her courage, made her move closer.

The shop smelt of beeswax and old books, filled with the low, rhythmic ticking of clocks and the gleam of soft yellow light on polished wood and shining brass and cut crystal. Belle stepped up the counter, meeting Gold’s eyes. He was wearing black, the faint gleam of silk in the folds of his shirt where gold sleeve garters pushed them up above his elbows. His tie was black silk, too, with a damask pattern, a gold tie pin clipped across its dark length. He wore no jacket, a waistcoat closely fitting his slim form, the thin gold chain of a pocket watch looping across from his belt. His hair hung around his face, soft and shining, and she remembered how it had felt slipping between her fingers, brushing her cheeks as he moved inside her. She felt a surge of desire go through her, and licked her lips. Not the time.

“Hey,” she said, and he smiled in a satisfied manner, settling back on his heels a little.

“Miss French,” he said. “How lovely to see you.”

“I think we’re on first name terms,” she said, with a nervous smile. “We’ve seen each other very naked, or did you forget?”

Gold’s grin widened, showing white teeth.

“Oh, I could never forget that.” He put his head to the side. “How are you?”

“I’m - uh - fine.”

Her heart was thumping, her belly twisting with nerves. How would he react? Would he be pleased? Angry? Certainly he’d be shocked, but would he reject her, reject his child? God, she wished she had called first! Telling herself it was too bloody late now, she decided to follow her original plan. She reached into her bag, taking out the gift-wrapped box, and placed it on the counter. 

“Merry Christmas,” she said nervously.

Gold blinked, and looked from the present to her and back again, seemingly unsure of himself.

“I wasn’t expecting a gift.”

“Tis the season.”

“Yes.”

He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, looking oddly hesitant.

“I thought you’d come to me,” he admitted. “But I didn’t know when that would be. Perhaps the New Year, or—”

“Did you want me to come?” God, this was agony! Gold sighed, but gave her that tiny smile again. 

“Of course I did,” he said. “What I mean to say is, I - I don’t have anything to give you in return. I don’t celebrate, you see. Tomorrow I was planning on doing inventory.”

“That’s okay,” she said, and took a deep breath. “You already gave me the best present I could hope for, anyway.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, a gleam of gold shining in their depths.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She shifted awkwardly. “Uh - you might want to be sitting down for this.”

His smile widened.

“Whatever you have to tell me, I can take it.”

“Right.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, her skin prickling all over, and she wanted nothing more than to climb over the counter and kiss him. She licked her lips, and summoned all her courage, raising her chin.

“I’m pregnant.”