#one thing i liked about the first 3 is they mostly stray away from low brow humor like that

[neofelis----nebulosa]

watched the second full scene released from kfp 4 and it is significantly lowering my expectations

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Hi Vee!!! Omg congrats on hitting 300 I'm so happy for you!!

For your sundae tropes event i'd like to order a coffee waffle cone #3 with megumi!!!

Sundae Tropes : I Said Stay

A/N: Hey everyone! I know I kinda went AWOL over the summer but things are looking up and I'm finally able to write! Fic 2 of the Sundae Tropes Event! It's crazy to see that from the time I started this event till now my follower count has almost doubled!

Thanks for your patience Lee! I hope you enjoy this. 🩷

Sundae: Coffee Waffle Cone #3 With Megumi = Friends To Lovers + prompt “Don’t You Dare Walk Away Right Now!”

Follow along using #sundaetropes, #300followersevent and #vee writes.

Event masterlist | Vee's Masterlists

You were another lost child with cursed abilities fostered on the Gojo estate. It wasn’t uncommon for them to bring in strays, mostly waifs who were not associated with a sorcerer family and had nowhere else to go. 

Some whispered Gojo had taken the initiative after his best friend had adopted two young girls with cursed abilities before defecting from the jujutsu world, an extremely low point in his life that he had turned into an opportunity. 

Your arrival at the estate had been a few weeks after Megumi and Tsumiki had been brought in. And of course, as adults tend to do, they had bunched the three of you together since you were close in age. Tsumiki was more open than Megumi, your friendship guaranteed from the moment you laid eyes on each other. The lack of cursed energy felt from Tsumiki wasn’t a deterrent in any way, the both of you running to the playground or taking time to braid each other’s hair. Megumi was quieter, more stoic, and not the kind to enjoy swinging from the monkey bars or playing tag with the other children. 

In fact, Megumi rarely accompanied you and Tsumiki anywhere. The only time you two spent together was when you were in training, sometimes with Gojo, sometimes with a wizened old instructor who would bark criticism at you if you failed to follow instructions. You preferred Gojo who was laxer and made training into a fun pastime rather than the old man, but Megumi never cracked a smile or laughed during any of these sessions, quietly summoning his shikigami, unbothered by the praise Gojo showered on him. His technique was quite developed for someone barely 8 years of age, and you watched him with fascination. 

“Oh, does my young student have a crush on Megumi?” Gojo would often tease you when he’d catch you looking at Megumi during your training sessions, flustering you and sending your little heart into a panic.

“No! Why would I like him, he’s so weird and untalkative. No, not me! I don’t have a crush on him!” You’d deny vehemently, shaking your head no, causing Gojo to erupt with laughter and pat your head.

“Ok ok I believe you calm down,” he’d say reassuringly, grinning at the tears brimming in your large baby eyes. Megumi on the other hand, acted indifferent whenever this question was brought up, making you believe he hadn’t heard anything, watching his shikigami scurry about the room.  

Eventually, Gojo insists that you and Megumi would have to start sparring with each other to test your abilities. In a real battle, there would be no one calling out advice or instructions to help you. You faced Megumi in your yukata, fists raised and ready. You were nervous, and deep down, you couldn’t help but feel you weren’t any match for Megumi in the first place. Tsumiki and some of the other children gathered around to watch both of you, Gojo watching intently to make sure no one got seriously injured. 

Megumi summoned the divine dogs first, the pair of adolescent cubs growling and ready to attack. You prepare yourself as they approach you and to your surprise, your first hit lands true, blocking and stunning one of the wolves which whimpers and disappears back into shadow. Megumi looks unperturbed but you can see his jaw clenching before he directs the remaining wolf to tackle you. You dodge the first one but aren’t as lucky the second time as the wolf catches you and you land on your back winded. The wolf’s hot breath can be felt on your neck, and though you knew they wouldn’t really harm you, you couldn’t bear to imagine the idea of being defeated.

With a cry, you flip the wolf over and it backs away with a yelp, running towards Megumi to regroup. You chase after it, feet gaining speed, ready to slam it with all the energy you can muster when the wolf disappears like its sibling at the last moment. With a yelp, you crash into Megumi who had been too transfixed on the match to realize you were barreling in his direction.

You collide painfully into his slim frame and the both of you go tumbling down, Megumi’s dark eyes gazing up at yours in a daze. You had never been in such proximity with him. You were convinced he would be cold to touch, just like his gaze and his attitude, but he was warm, and looking flushed from having you so close. A few moments pass where the both of you are looking into each other’s eyes, stunned, before Megumi, turning a delicate shade of red, pushes you off.

“What’s the matter with you? Trying to kill me by sitting on my neck?” Megumi yells as he scrambles away from you, his own heart beating faster than normal. He tries to brush it off as being surprised but can’t seem to stop blushing. 

“I’m sorry, I was aiming for the wolf,” you try to explain through your embarrassment but Megumi is already retreating, his back to you as he walks away from the training ring. Gojo declared you the winner but that incident was the beginning of a neverending series of matches to one-up the other that followed you into your teens. That initial childhood match had broken the ice and you and Megumi had developed a competitive friendship, pushing each other to be the best sorcerers you could be. He’d grown into a tall, slim adolescent, his ebony hair erratically spiky no matter what he did to it.

“Is that all you got?” he taunts as his now fully grown demon dogs close in on you, their eyes glowing menacingly. You merely huff, readying your cursed energy in your palms. As usual, a crowd has gathered to watch and place bets, and you make out Inumaki, Yuta, and Maki senpai, as well as Nobara and Yuji who were in the same year as you. It was always difficult to predict who would be the victor in these matches. The statistics had you both at a tie, and some matches ended up astonishing everyone at the last minute about who had won. 

“Naw, I’m just saving my energy. Why waste it on something that isn’t a challenge?” You throw back, feeling your power surge. Megumi imperceptibly smiles, a subtle quirk of his lips before the wolves come dashing at you. It was more difficult to evade them now, they had grown so much, but thanks to agility training, you managed to dodge them a few times before raining down surges of gathered cursed energy on them. The wolves snarl, teeth bared, and try to dodge but your bursts of energy confuse them and not too soon, both of them take a wrong step and are hit by your technique. They lay on the ground, exhausted and unable to move. 

“She won again! Yes! 1000 yen to me!” The crowd begins to cash in on their bets as you look over at Megumi who is hiding his disappointment well. He walks over to you to shake your hand as was his custom after every match he lost.

“Great job. But to be fair, you only have that one technique. Someday the dogs will catch on and avoid it.”

“Oh don’t be so bitter about the fact that my technique can be used so broadly.”

“Why would I be bitter about only having one good technique? Your lack of variety will be your downfall one day.”

The back-and-forth wasn’t uncommon and both of you are grinning good-naturedly as you hurl insults at each other. There wasn’t any malice, just a shared camaraderie from your common past. Nobara and Yuji start to make their way towards you, clapping you on the back for your victory. 

“Oh don’t pout so much Megumi, you’ll get wrinkles,” Nobara says to the tall youth, putting her hands on his cheeks. Megumi immediately pulls his face away. 

“I wasn’t pouting. I was expressing my sadness that some people may never develop more than one cursed technique.” You roll your eyes at the comment. 

“You’re just jealous that my one technique is so strong and you need to summon multiple creatures to even have a comparable energy level.”

“I’d rather be diverse than one-dimensional.”

“Says the guy with only one expression.” You put a scowl on your face and cross your arms and Yuji laughs at the impression.

“That’s so you Megumi,” he says between breaths. Megumi is about to retort when Nobara pulls on his hand. A little too possessively and it has your grin faltering at the sight.

“Come on. I wanted to get boba tea. My treat, Megumi.”

“Why? I lost.”

“Because I don’t want to sit across a grumpy goth boy.” She looks over her shoulder and casually says, “You’re welcome to join us if you want to.” Nobara sounded normal but your girl senses could tell otherwise and you shake your head no. 

“Go ahead. I want to stay in tonight.”

“I can stay if you’re not coming,” Megumi starts but you shake your head, a little too vigorously. Your voice sounds artificially light.

“No! You guys have plans. Go right ahead!” Megumi frowns but is prevented from saying anything else as Nobara gives him another impatient pull. 

“Come on! Otherwise, all the good flavors will be gone!” There’s little you can do except watch her drag him away, and there’s a strange sense of emptiness inside you like you hadn’t won the match at all. Yuji sees your expression and his eyes widen in concern.

“You ok?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine!” You smile to mask the uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach but the image of Nobara holding Megumi’s hand is burned into your mind. Had they always been that way? Since when was Megumi ok with casual acts of PDA like that?

Ever perceptive Yuji wasn’t deterred. “You don’t look ok. Are you sure? Did you want to go with those two?”

You shake your head. “Yuji, wasn’t it obvious that they wanted to go together? Just them?”

Yuji takes a minute to consider and makes a noise of agreement. “I suppose you’re right.” He glances at you then says, “You and Megumi have known each other a long time huh?”

“Yeah, we have. Both of us were fostered by Gojo sensei. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Trained our curse techniques together since we were like 9 years old.”

“It’s normal to feel a little jealous when your best friend makes friends with someone else.”

You snort. “Jealous? Me?” 

“Yeah. That’s what I thought anyway. Are you not jealous that your childhood friend is out having tea with someone and you aren’t with them?”

You feel your pulse quickening. “I’m not jealous. Megumi and I aren’t attached at the hip. He can hang out with whoever he wants.”

Yuji looks unconvinced but decides to back off. “All right then. Well, what do you want to do for dinner?”

You decide to order ramen and eat it in Yuji’s dorm. And though you laughed and joked with Yuji, you kept checking your phone hoping to see a text from Megumi. It never came. After bidding Yuji good night, you lay awake on your bed staring up at the ceiling wondering. You and Megumi had somehow become inseparable after that match so many years ago. It felt strange to be without him. When Gojo had told you you were going to Jujutsu High, the only thing consoling you about being separated from Tsumiki was that Megumi would be accompanying you. 

When had he found another friend that he wanted to hang out with? A girl no less? You sigh, feeling dejected. Nobara, with her pretty face, perfect hair, and princessy attitude. You had originally liked Nobara, but now the thought of her made you feel like you weren’t up to scratch, like you were inferior to her somehow. 

The concept of looking pretty for Megumi had never crossed your mind until now. Maybe Megumi did like well-dressed girls that cared about their appearance. But since when did you care about looking good for Megumi? You had gotten so used to him when you lived with Gojo that nothing fazed you. He’d seen you in pajamas, he’d seen you when you were sick, and when you were a ball of pain during your period. He’d seen you during so many moments where you were vulnerable and remained steadfast by your side that you’d never even considered trying to dress up for him.

Megumi was Megumi, the constant in your life after Tsumiki, and now, you felt unsteady, like he was being pulled away from you. Because wasn’t he a little more ‘yours’ and less ‘hers’ simply because you’d known him longer? Your thoughts swirl together, muddled until you fall into a restless sleep.

The next morning came too early and when you woke up, you felt hollow. You dragged yourself out of bed and got ready for the day thinking you could go to the cafeteria and get some breakfast before you started training again. You check your phone and see you had forgotten to charge it and it had switched off.

Dressed in sweats and flip-flops, your hair up in a ratty bun, you walk to the cafeteria and are relieved to see no one there you normally talk to, just some younger students who had their own clique. You decide on porridge and are about to take a bite from the steaming bowl when you’re distracted by the appearance of a tall brunette at the entrance. 

You freeze, spoon in hand as Megumi makes his way towards you feeling uncomfortably self-conscious about your appearance. Why did he have to find you like this? 

“Hey,” he says quietly, locking his fingers together before him.

“Hey.” Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden. You pick at your porridge to distract yourself. 

“You didn’t answer my text.”

Wordlessly, you pull out your phone showing him the blank screen, and comprehension dawns on his face. “Forgot to charge it huh?” he asks with a lilt in his voice. “That’s so like you. Can’t even remember to put your phone for charge without a reminder from me.”

Not in the mood for your usual banter, you clip out, “What can I say? I can’t always rely on you to remind me.”

Megumi raises an eyebrow at your tone. “Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Hostility enters your voice. “Didn’t you have anything better to do than come looking for me first thing in the morning?”

“I hadn’t heard from you. Forgive me for looking for my friend.”

“Like you care! Weren’t you out with Nobara all night?”

“Is that why you’re acting like this? Because I was hanging out with Nobara?”

“No.” You lie through gritted teeth. “We’re in high school now Megumi, do you think I care who you hang out with?” You see him flinch at your words and guilt whacks you in the stomach, causing you to tear up. The group of juniors were starting to give you funny looks from their table. You sigh and shake your head. 

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Abandoning your porridge, you sprint out of the cafeteria. Megumi remains where he is for a split second, dumbfounded, before racing after you. 

“Wait! Slow down! Come back here!”

You ignore his calls and continue making your way back to your dorm.  

“Don’t you dare walk away right now!” You hear the hurt in his voice but can’t bring yourself to face him like this, feeling and looking your worst. Emotional turmoil threatened to swallow you whole. When you get back to your room, you allow yourself to cry. 

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

Yuji kept shooting you furtive glances during your classes for the rest of the week. Megumi had distanced himself since that incident and you sat several desks away from him. You ate alone and trained alone. It had been an isolating week and you felt like there was a brick wall between you both. Megumi seemed content to spend his time with Nobara, a fact that he wasn’t hiding, considering that she seemed to be glued to him at all times. 

Grateful for the weekend, you change out of your uniform into the coziest hoodie you had, then decide to wander off campus and eat from one of the food carts outside. Food fried in oil was the only source of comfort your brain could conjure at the moment. 

Your feet automatically took you to your favorite vendor, a yakitori place, and as usual, a line had formed in front of the cart. You make your way to the back of the line just as someone else also reaches the end, vying for the same spot. 

“Oh, sorry-” you start, then stare, gobsmacked as Megumi gapes down at you. Your eyes meet for a moment and it’s awkward, like you’ve forgotten how to say hello to each other. Unwilling to fight for the spot, you swiftly step away and stand behind him. Megumi glances behind his shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You don’t have to do that. We’re not strangers. Stand next to me.” 

Not expecting the invitation, you warily look at him as he gestures at the space next to him. “It’s fine, you’re only one spot ahead of me.”

Megumi huffs, and with a level of impressive maturity, says, “Please stop acting weird and get over here.”

Uncertainly, you step into line next to him, silence falling between you both as you wait your turn. “How are you?” You ask, trying to break the quiet. 

“Not so good. See a close friend of mine blew me off and won’t tell me why she’s upset. And then she has the gall to wear my hoodie out in public even though she’s supposedly mad at me.”

“Your hoodie…?” You check yourself and realize, you were indeed wearing his hoodie, the one you’d ‘borrowed’ from him God knows when. He hadn’t asked for it back and it had remained in your custody, simply because it was too cozy to return. Who knew you’d run into him here while you were wearing it?

“I’m sorry, I had nothing else to wear. I’ll give it back to you after I finish laundry this weekend.”

A strange expression flitters across Megumi’s face and he avoids eye contact. “I didn’t say I wanted it back,” he says in a low voice before taking a deep breath and continuing. “Are you really not going to talk to me?”

Your chest constricts and you try not to lose composure. Not here. Not now. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t talk to you. I just didn’t feel like talking this last week.”

“And you don’t think I deserve an explanation?” Megumi asks quietly and you hear the disappointment in his voice. “When did you decide that we can’t sit together or talk things out anymore?”

You swallow and give him a partial answer. “I thought you wanted to spend more time with Nobara. You guys seem to be getting really close these days.”

“Nobara?” Megumi shakes his head. “Nobara’s nice but how can she substitute you?”

You feel a gentle rise in your stomach, like warm liquid was being poured into it, making your heart beat a little faster. “You guys looked like you were having fun.”

“Nobara is a classmate. And a friend. But you and I have a history. How do you think anything can replace that?” A breeze passes through, ruffling both your hair.

 “I’m sorry,” you say in a soft voice. 

“Do you know how hard it’s been not being able to talk to you?” There’s a tone in his voice that has you raising your head carefully. 

“Are you saying you missed me?”

“Tsk. Yes. There? Are you happy?”

It felt like there were a thousand butterflies alive in your stomach all at once, their little fluttering wings threatening to pull you away into the air. 

“I don’t know about happy,” you say loftily, trying to hide the grin on your face. 

“You’re so bad at pretending.” Megumi bumps his shoulder into you, a typical teenage boy move and you return the action, bumping back into him, the tension between you both dissipating slightly.

“But one thing I don’t get is, why are you so mad that I was hanging out with Nobara?” The question catches you off guard, and you find yourself scrambling to form words.

“Oh, it’s nothing. She just seemed to be acting over-familiar with you. Holding your hand and stuff. You hated that as kids.”

“I’ve come to realize it’s not so bad.” The back of his hand brushes against yours as he says so, sending a skitter of electricity through your body. 

“Oh yeah? So you’ll hold hands with just anyone then?”

“Not just anyone.” Your breath catches as Megumi’s large hand gently pulls yours, his fingers entwining between yours. “Nobara doesn’t really hold hands. She sort of grabs and yanks. Now this,” he raises your joined hands, “Is what holding hands should look like.”

Acutely aware of the fact that you looked like a couple at this very moment you think of ways to free your hand, each more futile than the last. Megumi seemed perfectly comfortable, looking at the surroundings and moving forward towards the cart. 

When your embarrassment becomes palpable, your hand involuntarily jerks, trying to escape Megumi’s finger prison, but to no avail.  Unperturbed by the action, the lanky teenager looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Is holding my hand causing some sort of issue for you?” 

You’re aware of the rising heat in your cheeks and try to play it cool. “I just don’t want people getting the wrong idea of us.”

“And what might that be?”

“That we’re a couple.”

“Oh. Does holding hands automatically contribute to us being a couple?” Megumi looks at you with a glint in his eye. “Aren’t there other factors that might have people coming to that conclusion anyway?”

Your heart hammers away in your chest as you meet his eyes, trying to keep your emotions under control. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Like the fact that you’re wearing my hoodie. And yes, it’s obvious it’s a boy’s hoodie because it’s oversized on you,” he adds as he sees you about to protest. “Or how about the fact that you’re blushing and despite me giving you a window to pull away, you’re still holding my hand?”

You look down and see that Megumi’s hand has gone lax and you could have very well used that opportunity to free yourself. Instead, your fingers are curled around Megumi’s, holding them at the very tips. As you’re about to uncurl them, Megumi’s draw them in closer and you’re back at square one. 

“So that’s it? You’re gonna hold my hand captive, and then everyone will just assume we’re a couple? Then what?” You ask sarcastically, your go-to defense mechanism. Megumi lets out a small laugh.  

“We could try actually being a couple.” Megumi’s eyes catch yours, and you’re in a trance, unable to look away. “Shocking, right?”

“But we! I! That’s not!” Incomplete splutters leave your lips as you try to process what he’d said. “Us? Be a couple?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to?” They’re one person away from reaching the cheerful-looking cart owner. A heavy pause hangs in the air. 

“I want to.” You finally admit and you draw closer to him, finding reassurance when he doesn’t move away. 

“Good. Because I want to, too.” 

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

 Unknown to the shy couple now sitting on a bench and eating their yakitori, Nobara watches them like a hawk, an exasperated Yuji hovering behind her.

“Why are we spying on them? If you like Megumi, then you should have said something.” Yuji chides to her, uncomfortable at his actions.

“Who says I like Megumi?” Nobara looks at him, wrinkling her nose. 

“Then what was with all the flirty moves and asking him to get tea with you?”

“All part of my master plan. Those two are so into each other, but too stubborn to admit they like each other.”

“Wait, what?” Yuji looks stunned. “You knew they liked each other but went out of your way to spend all that time with Megumi?”

“Yes! Because I knew Megumi would never confess, but a jealous girl always gets the ball rolling.”

“That’s…a little messed up but smart.”

“What can I say?” Nobara crosses her arms over her chest, looking proud. “I’m a girl’s girl. I like creating happy endings.”

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@actuallysaiyan

[big-coyote]

hi!! this may be a weird thing to ask about but ive decided to make one of my longtime ocs a coyote therian (they were connected to coyotes since the beginning) and i wanted to ask if theres stuff i should avoid when talking abt them or doing character design?

ive done some research on my own looking thru tumblr blogs ran by therians mostly, but i mightve missed some stuff!

for now they show their theriantophy as either wearing a coyote looking onesie (which is the first outfit they ever had) or when wearing other clothes they have a tail keychain on their trousers, so i also wanted to ask if you know of any other things they could have to connect with their theriotype?

again im sorry if this is a weird question! <3

(1/2) Hello! Not a weird question at all, I’m actually very honored and happy you’ve asked! I have quite a number of OCs myself that are also therians or otherkin adjacent lol. Also if anyone else has any ideas they’d like to add/advice feel free to comment or reblog!

As for things you should ovoid I’d recommend straying away from the idea of therianthropy being inherently because of mental illness. While it’s totally okay for your Oc to struggle with mental health problems or other serious topics. I often see the stigma online where people assume being nonhuman or having a alterhuman identity means the person in question must have Schizophrenia, Dissociative Identity Disorder, psychosis, a delusional disorder, etc. And again while I know plenty of nonhumans who have those disorders (I have some of them) and that may effect their identities as a whole, it shouldn’t be the end all be all of their identity you know? Ovoid adding more stigma to both.

Another thing I’d stray away from is the idea of a character being a therian because of spirit animals or any mythology related to closed practices/groups. I’ve seen many indigenous people online speak about their discomfort with the word ‘spirit animal’ and how it’s been adopted into pop culture. Being alterhuman is much more then “I feel connected to this thing/this thing is just like me”, it runs much deeper then that and it is as much as a real identity as something like gender, sexuality, religion, etc. It should be taken with as much care and seriousness as those other identities because it is huge and important part to a lot of our lives.

Lastly I’d recommend avoiding making the character the butt end of the jokes. While the Oc themselves can be funny, have funny things happen to them or have funny experiences as a coyote Therian I’d ovoid making them the punching bag to other OCs. Online it’s not uncommon to see many people misunderstanding and mischaracterizing being nonhuman for a quick laugh. It be very disheartening if an OCs entire existence in a story is just “haha they think they’re a dog, that’s stupid”. Again it’s important to take any identity like being a Therian seriously instead of just being the punch line for a joke or gag.

As for the clothing I think the onesie would be incredibly cute and good to wear as well as the tail! Many therians wear tails, both real and faux fur ones, to feel connected to their identity and feel more comfortable. I’ve also known many therians who were things like jewelry with their theriotype on it, fake animal ears, t-shirts, rings, fur coats, earrings, pins/buttons, etc. Some also like collecting plushies or posters with their theriotype as well, or having stickers on their books or drawing them. Or if you’d prefer a more casual character design you could have a character who doesn’t wear any outward Therian gear and prefers to keep it low key. Both options are very valid and would be interesting to see!

But no matter what I’m sure your Oc is going to be amazing and I can’t wait to see them! Please tag me if you make any art or stories about them, or if you have any other questions feel free to ask again or DM me!

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Out of darkness - Chapter One: Lost and Found - Alastor x human!fem!reader

Go to the table of contents.

A/N: Hi there! I wanted to share an idea that’s been bouncing around in my head, so I thought I'd let the world in on it. A few things to note: 1. Some elements of this story are not canon for the HH universe—they’re mostly here to drive the plot. 2. Alastor might seem a bit different at first, but I aim to portray him as accurately as possible overall. 3. For the sake of the story, he won’t be aroace. 4. Some chapters will contain explicit NSFW content, specifically sexual scenes. To make it easy for you to skip these if they're not to your taste, I'll clearly separate them from the main chapters (e.g. Chapter 3.5, Chapter 4.5 etc.). These chapters won’t impact the main plot, so you won’t miss any essential story elements by skipping them. Please note, the story will also include elements like blood, gore, swearing and violence—integral parts of the Hazbin Hotel universe that cannot be omitted. If you're uncomfortable with any of these aspects, you might want to avoid reading the story altogether. However, if it's just the sexual content you're not interested in, you can simply skip the designated NSFW chapters. TW: Blood, mentions of murder. I hope you enjoy it! <3

Prologue

When a human strays from the right path, their eternity is doomed to be spent in the realm of suffering and pain – Hell. Normally, demons are confined within this place by a barrier, meant to protect poor souls from their wrath. But over time, the barrier’s magic has weakened, creating tiny fissures that link the human and demon worlds.

While these portals are easier for humans and angels to pass through, they have a fatal impact on demonic beings. Most demons are destroyed before they can even step into the human world. Those that do pass through are so weakened that they can be easily killed by human priests or simple humans with strong faith. And once a demon dies in the human world, their soul is forever destroyed. Consequently, demons have learned to ignore these portals, accepting their fate in Hell rather than attempting to escape.

Yet, the world is full of demons. Some live low-profile lives, trying to catch up on everything they missed while away, while others continue their mischief, hoping to go undetected and perhaps extend their existence a bit longer.

Chapter one: Lost and found

Days in Hell were monotonous. Murders, violence, and other horrific acts were considered normal here. Today was one of those days, with Hell engulfed by screams emanating from the infamous Radio Demon’s radio towers. This had been a common occurrence since Alastor spawned in Hell about seventy years ago. People could only speculate about the mystery surrounding his existence, making him even more ominous.

“And with that, my fellow sinners, we end today’s broadcast,” Alastor’s voice echoed through the towers. “I hope your day goes horribly wrong and maybe, just maybe, you’ll hear the next broadcast… or not.” His mischievous laughter sent shivers down the spines of sinners.

Pleased with his work, Alastor exited his tower, heading to buy some venison (or whatever kind of meat people sold here, pretending it was venison). As usual, he wore his wide smile, making everyone move out of his way. No one wanted to mess with the Radio Demon, and Alastor relished his power over the pitiful sinners.

As he walked the streets, a bright light caught his attention. His eyes widened in surprise as a portal opened in a dark alley. Despite his senses warning him, curiosity got the better of him. The thought of returning to the human world, as powerful as he was, never left his mind. He chuckled at the idea and approached the portal, feeling its warmth engulf his hand.

           Dark. Everything went dark.

Suddenly, Alastor’s ears were filled with voices, and flashing lights surrounded him. Unbearable pain tore through his body, his skin and flesh being ripped apart. He heard dogs barking and then a loud bang. He woke up, drenched in a thin layer of cold sweat, disoriented and confused. Frantically scanning his surroundings, he realized he was in an unfamiliar apartment, starkly different from the horrors of Hell.

“Hello?” a voice startled him as he turned, only to face an unknown woman, looking at him and holding a cup of tea. She looked… human. Was this the human world? Was he back?

He tried to get up, only to be met with incredible exhaustion, almost like his muscles failed to work. A deep groan escaped his mouth, as he laid back on the soft sofa.

The woman rushed towards him. “It’s ok. I think you need to rest a bit.” She said, placing the cup on the table. Alastor's heart was racing, a feeling of utter confusion and dread overcoming him. This human world was not what he expected and the excruciating pain that he had just endured... it made no sense. As the woman spoke, he looked at her with narrowed eyes, wariness filling his gaze.

"Who... are you?" his voice came out hoarse and unfamiliar to himself.

She softly smiled. “My name is (y/n).” She answered. Alastor's expression barely changed, still wary of the situation. He slowly pushed himself back into a sitting position, wincing slightly from the effort.

"And... how did I end up here? In your... home?" he inquired, his eyes roaming the surroundings, taking in every detail of the room.

“I’ll explain everything. First of all, do you want me to call someone? An ambulance… maybe a relative?”

Alastor's expression hardened even further, a look of confusion on his face. He slowly shook his head, his voice growing a bit colder.

"No. No one. I don't… have anyone." he replied, a pang of loneliness he hadn't experienced in a long time slowly creeping upon him. He continued to look at her, his eyes now more guarded, less vulnerable.

“Well, in this case…” she started, but first handed him the cup of tea, Alastor reluctantly grabbing it. “You were freezing… It’s the middle of November… The last thing you want is getting hypothermia.”

Alastor's expression softened slightly as he looked at the cup in his hands. The warmth from the liquid instantly flooded his senses, a subtle comfort washing over him.

"The weather... It was cold," he murmured as he took a small sip, the hot liquid sending a jolt through his still-weakened body.

The girl smiled, trying to hide the worry in her mind. Maybe he had memory loss or perhaps he was attacked by someone. A thousand questions flooded her mind.

“I found you in front of my door, passed out.” She explained. “It was almost freezing outside and your clothes didn’t seem so… cosy.”

Alastor silently nodded, listening to her words. He took a moment to look down at his attire, his usual red and black suit looking a bit rough. A soft, scoff-like laugh escaped his lips as he realized how ridiculous he must have looked. Suddenly, he looked at his hands… They were human. Confusion washed over him once more as he tried to stand up, looking for a mirror.

“Hey, I don’t think you sho-“ the girl tried to stop him, but the adrenaline kicked in, making him stand up and run to a mirror he saw on a desk. He looked at himself… It was still him but… his human self from when he was alive.

Alastor's eyes widened with shock as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. It was him, yet not at the same time. His human form... He barely recognized it, the last time he saw it so long ago.

"Impossible," he muttered, his hand slowly going to his face, his fingers caressing his human skin, still in disbelief.

(y/n) looked at him confused… and a bit scared. She was waiting for her brother whom, she messaged before Alastor woke up. Truthfully, she was afraid to be alone with a strange man and now knowing he had no one, she couldn’t let him wander alone in this state.

“You seem… confused. Were you attacked by someone?” she asked, genuinely worried.

Alastor's gaze flickered from the mirror to the girl, a mix of confusion and annoyance in his eyes. He hated being in this vulnerable state, being questioned... but he had nowhere else to go.

"Attacked?" he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. "No. I wasn't... attacked," he answered, his eyes falling to the ground for a moment, his thoughts elsewhere, replaying the memories of the portal, the pain...

"I..." he began but then stopped. There was no point in trying to explain it to a human. (y/n) gently touched his arm, making him cringe slightly. Her skin was warm, a stark contrast to his usual coldness. She guided him back to the couch and sat in front of him.

“You need to give me some explanation so I can help you… What’s your name?” she said.

"My... name?" he echoed, his eyes meeting hers. There was a moment of silence, a small battle between his instinct to lie and the strange feeling of… trust. "Al... Alastor." he finally said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Alastor, do you have any place to go?”

Alastor's lips curled into a bitter smile. He didn't have a home and hadn't had one for 70 years. Hell was his home and yet, here he was, sitting in a human's living room.

"No," he replied, his eyes wandering around the room, avoiding her gaze. (y/n) sighed, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, someone rang the door and the girl got up, closing the door of the living room behind her.

Alastor could hear someone come in and then muffled voices.

“What did you want me to do?” (y/n) would almost whisper, frustration in her voice.

“I don’t know, call the police maybe?” a male voice would whisper back, angrily. “It’s not like you found a puppy at your door. You found a man! A man who could've hurt you, (y/n)!”

Alastor could easily hear the conversation from the other room. His eyes narrowed annoyance and dread washing over him. The police... he couldn't afford to get tangled with the police. The door opened and a tall, muscular guy, followed by (y/n) entered, his gaze fixated on Alastor.

“Hey, man!” He said and extended his arm towards Alastor. “I’m David, (y/n)’s brother.” He clarified.

Alastor looked up at David, his eyes studying him. He instinctively recoiled at the sudden presence, not thrilled about the new arrival. Yet, he didn't have much of a choice. He tentatively took the extended hand, shaking it with a firm grip.

"Alastor," he replied plainly, his voice guarded. His eyes darted towards her, still trying to gauge his situation and his chances of escaping it. David sat down, trying to find his words.

“Are you ok? Are you injured or anything?” David asked him.

Alastor let out a low sigh, his eyes roaming over his body. He had no major injuries, just the exhaustion and weakness that came with the... human form.

"No. I'm..." he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, "I'm fine. Just... tired." he answered, his gaze flickering to the side, avoiding David's intense stare. The man prepared to ask more questions when (y/n) intervened.

“Maybe you should rest, Alastor. It’s late and even if you wanted, it wouldn’t be safe for you to leave now. We’ll see what we can do tomorrow, okay?” (y/n) said, smiling, trying to make him relax.

Alastor's gaze slowly shifted towards her, his expression remaining stoic. She was right. He was too weakened now to do anything. He had to think. He slowly nodded, a small gesture but one that came a bit reluctantly.

"Fine. But only for tonight," he replied, his voice firm yet guarded.

(y/n) looked in some of her drawers and took out some clothes, handing them to Alastor.

“My cousin gave me these so I can wear them around the house. I never did though, they’re too big for me. I think they will fit you.” She said. “There’s the bathroom if you wanna take a shower.”

Alastor looked at the clothes, his eyes widening as he analyzed them. He couldn't remember the last time he wore something made from such a soft material. It wasn't his style, but he silently accepted them.

"Thank you," he said, his voice gruff but surprisingly civil. He got up from the couch, the clothes in his hands, and walked to the bathroom.

The warmth of the water engulfed his body, sending shivers down his spine. It seemed like an eternity since showers felt so good. He let the water fall onto his body, thinking about what to do. Should he kill them? But where could he go? He didn’t even know what changed since he died… No, he had to think this through. He had to wait. His thoughts tossed and churned in his head, a maelstrom of emotions and memories. But deep within, there was a flicker of determination, a spark of survival instinct that kept him grounded. He turned off the water and got dressed in the new clothes.

He exited the bathroom and saw (y/n), preparing what seemed to be a bedroom, probably the one he’ll spend his night in. His eyes followed her around. She was… so nice to him, so attentive. It’s been a while since someone acted like this towards him without wanting something in return. She looked at him and smiled.

“Feeling better?” She asked.

Alastor silently nodded, his eyes fixed on her movements. There was something... comforting in her smile, something unfamiliar yet somehow soothing. He walked closer to her, his footsteps a bit more steady than when he first arrived.

"A bit," he replied, his voice still low but lacking some of its earlier sharpness. "You... you have done a lot for a stranger."

She smiled kindly.

“Ah, don’t mention it! It’s the bare minimum.” She said and looked at him, but her expression suddenly turned into confusion. “Hey, are you hurt?” she asked pointing at his shoulder.

Alastor's gaze followed hers, only then noticing the blood on his shoulder. He tried to recall if he felt any pain, but nothing came to mind.

“May I see?” (y/n) asked.

He nodded silently, his voice quiet. "Yeah. Sure," he said. He reluctantly took off his shirt, noticing her blushing at his actions.

He could feel her eyes on the injury as she approached, the proximity making him slightly uncomfortable, but he let her look at his shoulder without protest.

She inspected the wound and rushed to a drawer, taking out a bottle and some bandages. "it seems to be a scratch that probably started bleeding in the shower." she clarified. "May I?" she asked, showing him the supplies, suggesting that she take care of it.

Alastor's eyes darted between the supplies and her face, a hint of irritation in his gaze. He wasn't a fan of being tended to, but he knew he was in no position to protest.

"Fine. Go ahead," he grumbled, his expression guarded, almost reluctant.

(y/n) started taking care of the wound, her warm hands brushing over his skin, making shivers run down his spine. He wanted to hate it but he didn’t entirely.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” She said, but his mind was too preoccupied with taking in every warm touch.

Alastor sat stiffly as she worked on his shoulder, her hands warm against his skin. It was an almost soothing experience, the sensation of her touch, her gentle care, stirring something within him that he had long forgotten.

His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, his instincts screaming at him to withdraw, to push her away. But his heart longed for more.

After bandaging the wound, her hands left his body, coldness attacking it once again. As her hands left his body, Alastor felt a chill run through him, a pang of emptiness filling the space where she once touched. He didn’t want to admit it, but he longed for her warmth, for the strange comfort that she provided without even realising it.

He tried to shake off the feeling, his mind screaming at him to remain cold and detached. But the lingering memory of her touch still burned in his heart.

“I’m gonna bring you a new shirt.” She said and looked at the stained one. “I swear, a part of me hopes you are a serial killer so you can help me get this stain off.” She chuckled. If only she knew who Alastor was…

Alastor allowed a small, wry smile to tug at the corners of his lips at her unintended jest. A serial killer... If only she knew the true extent of his past, the countless lives he had sent to their doom.

He watched her leave, his gaze lingering on the door as it closed behind her. He quietly sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts swirling in his head, the memory of her touch still warm on his skin.

Shortly after, she returned and handed him the shirt. “You good?” She asked him as he put the shirt on.

Alastor silently slipped the shirt on, the material soft against his skin. He nodded, his gaze meeting hers. "Yeah. I’m good," he replied, his voice a bit more gruff than before.

He was far from “good” he was far from even being “ok”. But there was no way he would let her know that.

She smiled. “I’m in the living room if you need anything. ‘Night, Alastor!” She said and closed the door behind her.

Alastor watched her leave, her gentle smile etched in his mind. As the door closed behind her, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh. The room suddenly felt cold and empty. He lay down on the bed, the silence of the room surrounding him like a shroud.

He tried to make sense of the strange emotions swirling inside him. The warmth he felt in her presence, the comfort of her touch... It was all new to him. Something happened to him through that portal. His demon self was too weakened.

He looked at the ceiling, thinking of what to do. Maybe he should kill them… Before they get too close to finding the truth. He thought a few hours about this. He would kill David first, while he was asleep. There was no way he could take him in a fight in this state, so this was the best solution. As for (y/n)... His stomach twisted a bit at the thought of killing her. He wasn’t a fan of killing women when he was alive either… Besides, she was so kind to him, so sweet. No, he would not kill her. At least not now.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He quickly got up and went to the bathroom, quietly looking through the drawers and he found what he needed.

Alastor silently took the pair of scissors and entered the living room, making sure the two were asleep. He watched (y/n) sleeping on the couch, her knees to her chest. She seemed so peaceful. He had to be quick because he knew she would scream.

He approached David, who slept on the armchair, snoring. Alastor raised the scissors… He had to do it.

Go to: Next Chapter

[valberryy]

i wanna ruin our friendship. — childe

im sorry for using jenny song lyrics but its been living in my head rent free 😩 diversity win? anyways

the second of the raffle requests!! this one is for @pazii !! i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope u like it!! <3 also i call childe by his real name here cause idk how to explain his uhhhhh soundcloud rapper nicknames or whatever in a modern au so. does peace sign in front of mirror

pairing: childe x gn!reader

content warnings: spoilers for childe's real name

Of all the ways Ajax expected his summer break to go, getting random texts from you was honestly a rather common occurrence—he'd have found it weirder to not hear from you, honestly, no matter the time of day.

What made this stranger than the normal "hey ugly where are u" messages he'd often get was the sheer absurdity of what you were asking: with no pretense whatsoever, he had been woken up at some ungodly time of the night to see a text from you that simply read, "can you pretend to be my boyfriend for a thing".

He simply rubbed at his eyes and went back to sleep.

The next day you barged into his apartment and made yourself at home on his couch, your feet up on the armrest as you explained yourself. "My cousin's getting married," you said, "and he and I made a bet a few years ago that I wouldn't be able to get a boyfriend by college."

Ajax raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee as he said, "And what does that have to do with me?"

"I hate losing."

He raised another eyebrow at your determined expression—and he'd deal with any and all jabs you'd make about how dumb he probably looked right now—but agreed, taking another swig of coffee as he did. He watched as you grinned, clapping your hands together in a way that made him suspect that he was definitely the first person you asked.

"Great! That's good!" You started digging through your pockets for your phone and continued to explain. He caught the date and also something about, "needing to act the part"—and he nearly dropped his mug as you dragged him forward by the collar with some starstruck look in your eyes.

"Let's go gift shopping, dearest boyfriend of mine!" you teased. "What better way to get into that mindset, you know?"

You stifled another laugh as he shoved his hand in your face and pushed you away.

And a few hours later, Ajax found himself strolling with you through one of the many malls near campus. At some point during the trip he had joked about wearing matching outfits, and it seemed you were so into the idea that he was at your mercy as you dragged him in and out of clothing stores. More than once had you shoved him back into the fitting room for coming out in what you called, "an insult to anyone with a decent sense of fashion."

"Oh? And would you prefer to dress me instead, sweetheart?"

"Just change back, Ajax!"

He laughed as you kicked at his shin to force him back inside.

By the end of the day, his and your arms alike were sore from the weight of the bags you'd been carrying around ("Hey! It's not my turn yet, take them back!"), but Ajax couldn't quite find it in himself to tease you for the dopey smile on your face as he walked you back home.

"If I'm going to be your pretend boyfriend, I need to go the whole nine yards," he had said.

You stopped walking in front of your door, peering into shopping bags and handing him the ones with his things in them. Ajax was about to bid you a simple goodnight right when you pulled him in for a hug, lingering for a few seconds longer with your hands wound tight against his waist.

"Thanks for agreeing," you said, and he could hear the beginnings of a laugh start to bubble up your throat, "even if it's kind of a dumb thing to ask."

You let him go before he could respond, making a show of blowing him a kiss as you closed the door.

Ajax' chest felt warm as he walked home that night.

"So, how thick do I need to lay it on them?"

He heard you let out a little snort from the passenger seat, hearing the rustling of your clothes as you inspected the wrapped gift in your hands for any dents. "Just don't go getting on one knee or anything," you said. "But don't worry, they'll love you...I think."

Ajax drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You think," he repeated.

You snorted again, and through the corner of his vision, he caught the way you were smiling at him.

The rest of the trip was silent save for the occasional snide comment and the low droning of the radio, and the wedding ceremony itself was rather quick in and of itself—the parts that felt the longest were the ones that involved talking to your family.

But you stuck by his side after the ceremony and into the reception—in true best friend fashion, he joked—and instead of leaving him to the wolves, whatever fabricated stories dates you two went on (which were mostly just joyrides where Ajax dragged you to come with) left even your skeptical cousin looking convinced.

And then you were dragged away to dance with one of your younger cousins, and Ajax was left to the wolves.

Your cousin walked up to him and nudged his shoulder, jerking his chin in your direction. You had to bend down a fair bit to "dance" properly with the cousin who had dragged you off, and they were standing on your feet to boot, but you still looked rather happy in spite of that.

"Thanks for dealing with them," your cousin said, snapping Ajax out of his daze.

"If anything, I think you should thank [Name] for dealing with me."

With a laugh, your cousin clapped him on the shoulder before going off to mingle with the rest of your family, and Ajax found his gaze drawn back to you.

Somehow, he wished that the night would go by slower.

A few hours later, you stood by his side in the parking lot, rolling the few knots out of your neck as you waved goodbye to your relatives that passed by. "Ahh, I can't wait to get out of these shoes," you said.

Ajax glanced at you as he dug through his pockets for his keys. "Don't go stinking up my car, dearest partner of mine," he replied.

You laughed as you slipped into the passenger seat.

He hadn't bothered to turn on the radio, or the GPS for that matter, and you made an odd noise from the back of your throat once you realised his little detour. You turned to him with an eyebrow raised, and he looked at you as much as he could without taking his eyes off the road.

"Don't look at me like that," he teased. "Let me do this one last thing as your pretend boyfriend."

"Where are we even going?!"

He laughed, opening the windows and sputtering as a stray leaf hit you square in the face.

"We'll see when we get there."

You seemed about to curse at him again, before you settled with a fond sigh. "Well then, pretend boyfriend, you better make it count, hm?"

He didn't say anything in reply, only watching you out of the corner of his eye and watching the way the moonlight shone on your hair.

Maybe next time, he wouldn't have to play pretend.

[silkenstarlight]

a night in crimson valley

Summary: Reader is a bartender at the Crimson Valley Motel. After she is accosted by a drunk John Walker, a familiar face offers her protection and comfort.

Pairing: Biker!bucky x bartender!reader

Warning/s: language, violence, alcohol use; sorta fluffy end

Word count: 5.6k

Author’s note: I’m unsure whether I want to turn this into a series; please let me know your thoughts!

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Her nose burned with the scent of blood and cheap vodka, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

In the early days, when she had first been stationed at this bar, she had stocked the cupboard beneath the register with supplies. Lemon-scented bleach, candy-blue windex, a dried up tube of wet wipes. Every night before closing, she had tugged on a pair of yellow rubber gloves and gone to work. Rubbing, scouring, swabbing away every spilled shot, every stray fingerprint. The dirt and spit and grime seemed to accumulate instantly, and yet, she continued her sisyphean housekeeping, trying to paint over the bar’s run-down reality with a layer of chemical gloss. But, all of that effort was to no avail; this was a roadside establishment, so there would always be sloppy drunks, and there would, most assuredly, always be bar fights, new stains to replace old. No use in hiding it.

Now, she’d grown numb to it, the cleaning supplies below the register covered in an ever-thickening coat of dust. The once shiny, lacquered surface of the bar now reflected dully beneath the low light, encrusted with old dirt and sour deeds. The floor was sticky, a years’ worth of spilled cocktails accumulating in a tacky glue trap. The mirror behind the bar, its surface cloudy and warped, reflected the late-night debauchery of men in desperate need of respite.

Every night, she wiped foggy glasses with the same gray, fraying rag, watching the same blurred, bearded faces pass through. The Crimson Valley Motel, owned by (Y/N)’s father, was a dependable option for truckers looking for a night away from the cramped quarters and lumpy cots of their vehicles. With its low nightly fares and extensive parking, and her father’s promise of discounted drink prices at the attached bar, customers returned without fail. Even still, she tried not to grow too attached to any patrons. They were just passing through, after all, with separate lives waiting for them beyond the road and the walls of the motel. But, sometimes, she just couldn’t help herself. 

Bucky Barnes was one such case.

The first things she had noticed the moment he walked into the bar two years ago were his eyes. Piercing blue, stern and ever-watchful, set beneath the overhang of his perpetually furrowed brow. That first night, he had nursed his whiskey glass with two gloved hands, staring at the bar’s surface as if he were trying to memorize every intricacy and flourish in its woodgrain. She had appreciated his presence ever since, so quiet and watchful, a stark departure from the raucous drunkards and wild military men who usually frequented the Crimson Valley Bar. And, despite the fact that he drank as much as the other patrons, he never seemed affected by the alcohol, his gaze as clear and haunting as ever, even well into the dark hours of morning. It almost made her laugh, his perfect stoicism and strong  jaw, the classic image of unperturbed masculinity. But she could sense the ghost of some deep sadness in the downturned set of his mouth. His shoulders always seemed tense, and he continually shifted his weight in his seat, peering over his shoulder every once in a while, as if suspicious that he was being watched. It made her swallow any skepticism about his demeanor, instead deciding that he was likely a very broken man, deserving of the space and quiet his countenance demanded. For that reason, she never asked him any questions, never made a move to satiate that burning curiosity within her. Better to keep a respectful distance than stir up unwelcome memories. 

She had never even really spoken to him, and only knew his name because she once caught his signature on a receipt. By the time she read it, he had whisked away to spend the night in his motel room and prepare for departure early the next morning.

Whenever he came back, it was like she could sense his presence, could feel his steely gaze sweeping the bar. It was comforting, a sweet bubble of solace beneath the humming neon and peeling rock n’ roll posters, a space of quiet surrounded by the pressing screech of electric guitar and deep boom of drums. She never knew when he would return, his trucking routes and schedule difficult to predict with such minimal information, but she secretly looked forward to it. Another day, another opportunity to unwrap the quiet mystery of Bucky Barnes.

Tonight, the bar was crowded. Hopeful thoughts of seeing Bucky retreated to the very back corner of her mind as she poured sparkling streams of amber liquid into lines of waiting glasses, shaking and stirring and swirling again and again in the rote, mindless motions that a full house required. She had no room to daydream, not on a Saturday night, when more lonely truckers sought out the bar for company, and when the local military base flooded in on their night out. In a room full of loud men with wanting mouths, she needed to work quickly.

On nights like these, the men mostly left her alone, too absorbed in their own festivities to take much note of her. Beyond the simple “pleases” and “thank yous,” they seemed to recognize that any attempt to strike up a conversation would interrupt her flow and leave her begrudging, frustrated, and not exactly an ideal conversation partner. But, some men couldn’t take a hint.

She had been cutting lemon wedges, concentrating on creating an even slice and avoiding her fingertips with the dull knife blade. She counted each slice before pouring the wedges into a chilled metal bowl, her movements precise and rhythmic. 1, 2. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3--

“Hey, bartender! I asked you a question.”

She knew it was John before she even bothered to look up. She sighed heavily, placing the knife on the counter and wiping her hands before tilting her gaze upwards.

John Walker was another regular here, but her opinion of him was very different than the tentative infatuation she harbored for Bucky Barnes. To put it simply, she did not like John. Whenever he swaggered past the bar’s threshold, flanked by his two favored cronies, she shuddered. Unlike the relatively polite regulars who frequented the bar, John was demanding, expecting (Y/N) to cater to his every whim without complaint. He was, apparently, a favored recruit at the military base. She just thought he was a privileged asshole. One time, he refused to tip her because she didn’t smile at him when she served his drink. And, another time, he broke his glass on purpose just to watch her clean it up.

Now, he was staring at her, head cocked and arms crossed, expecting an answer to a question she hadn’t heard him utter.

She sighed again, leaning against the counter. “Sorry, John. Didn’t catch your question.” Her voice was flat, lacking in genuine sympathy. “Mind repeating it?”

“Can’t even listen,” he said to himself, shaking his head in disappointment. “As I asked earlier, did you water down my fuckin’ snakebite?”

She stared at him, eyes boring into his cold blue ones, and she thought for a second. She was annoyed by his interruption, but this could go poorly if she didn’t handle it with care. If she said the wrong thing, he could get offended, and she was the only woman in a room full of men. She could hold her own in a fight and had some experience with self-defense, sure, but that wouldn’t hold up against a man with John’s stature and training. She couldn’t predict if any of the other men in the room would come to her rescue if things went south, but she couldn’t really blame them. He was tall and strong, and had a temper to boot. But his fragile masculinity, which compelled him to talk down to her and order such ridiculous drinks as a snakebite, wouldn’t survive if she talked back. So, her decision was made.

“Well, John,” she said, her voice low as she smirked. “Usually, you’re already plastered by the time you make it to my bar. I always have to water down your drinks because you can’t hold your fucking liquor.”

His face darkened, brows drawing downwards in a chilling expression of anger. He gritted his teeth together and pushed back from the bar, motioning to turn away from her and back to his friends. “I can handle my liquor just fine, thank you.”

She cleared her throat, catching his attention. “Actually, just last weekend, you threw up all over the parking lot. My poor Pops had to clean it up.” She chuckled at the memory of her father, grumbling with a bucket and mop in hand, as John sat with his head in his hands in the front office. “You might not remember it, John, but I do. We all do.” The incident had occurred well before closing time, so many of the bar’s customers had seen it with their own eyes. One or two had surely caught it on camera.

“Are you fucking mocking me?” A vein popped out on his neck, his face growing read and hot.

She felt her pulse rise in fear, but she ignored it, hand resting next to the knife on the counter. “Maybe I am.” She leaned forward, leering at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I going to do about it?” He laughed incredulously, picking up his half-full glass and examining its amber-colored contents briefly before hurling it at the mirrored wall behind her.

She ducked, shielding her face from splattering liquid and broken glass. “Shit.” She dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled, frantically clambering below the bar for the cleaning cupboard. She knew how this encounter would go, but she was starting to realize that she shouldn’t have pushed it. He had never actually threatened her physical harm before, resigning himself to simply being an asshole. Tonight, that had obviously changed.

“Nuh-uh, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His voice was still loud enough to pierce her eardrums over the pulsating music. He reached down to where she was, grasping for Windex in the dusty, cavernous cabinet, and roughly gripped her hair in his fist. He pulled up harshly, causing an unpleasant sting to radiate down her scalp. The breath caught in her throat. 

She had fucked up. Badly.

He wrenched her close, until their faces were just inches apart. He examined her face, his own visage arranged in an unpleasant sneer. She looked straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down, even though she was frightened of what he might do. 

“I should put you in your place.” His voice was quiet, only audible to her. She shuddered, lip curling in distaste. The sour taste of bile rose on her tongue at the violating way his eyes scanned her face, as if he were a predator examining his prey. A few patrons were watching, pausing their conversations to watch the show. But, none were helping, jumping up to arrive at her aid. A dark pit grew in her stomach at the observation.

He loosened his grip on her hair and she moved to pull back, but before she could, he spit in her face, a thick, hot wad of saliva landing on her cheek. Her mouth gaped in disgust, nose flaring, and she stepped back, wiping the insult from her face with her sleeve and slipping the knife she had been using earlier into her hand, concealing it behind her back. She retreated until her back was flush with the mirror behind her, eyes flitting wildly, trying to find a gap in the crowd where she could disappear and distance herself from him. But all she could see was his face, his hooked nose and hooded eyes, that awful, sneering expression, as he prepared to jump over the bar and bridge the gap between them. 

But, before he could, his head slammed into the bar’s wooden surface with a sickening crack!

Her mouth dropped open in confusion, the rushing bout of adrenaline quickly waning in her veins as she took in the sight of John, head pinned to the counter by a gloved hand. Wait, is that--?

Her suspicions were confirmed when she looked up from John’s floundering figure to find Bucky, his hand firmly wrapped in John’s hair, his face contorted in an expression of rage. She had never seen him like this, nose scrunched, eyes dark. His eyes briefly flickered to hers, and when their gazes met, his face softened slightly, as if to provide her with some sense of reassurance. The breath stalled in her throat, but before relief could flood into her limbs, she saw John stirring in Bucky’s grip.

“What… what the fuck, man?” John turned his head, cheek pressed against the bar’s cool surface, to stare at Bucky out of the corner of his eye.

“Watch yourself, buddy.” Bucky’s voice was gruff and uncaring.

“Buddy?” John scoffed. 

“Well, what’s your name, then?”

A laugh rose in John’s throat, bubbling over into a bitter, joyless sound. He was trying to intimidate Bucky into backing off, shifting his weight below him in an effort to distract him.

It didn’t work. Bucky simply pressed John’s face even harder into the counter, until the breath whooshed from John’s lips in a muffled, defeated gasp. 

“I asked you a question.”

“Fine-- fine. Name’s Walker.”

“Well, Walker,” Bucky replied, leaning in close until his face obstructed John’s vision. “Keep your fucking mitts off my girl here.”

“What?” She couldn’t help it as the question left her lips in a surprised gasp. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to her again, lips pulling down in an embarrassed grimace, as if he hadn’t meant to call her that. 

That moment was enough time for John to act.

Bucky grunted and stumbled back a couple of steps as John pushed out from under him. There was no time to think, no time to act, before John strode towards Bucky and socked him straight in the nose, Bucky’s head whipping violently to the side.

(Y/N)’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She stayed anchored to her spot in front of the mirror, unable to move. There wasn’t much that she could do. Now that John had initiated a physical fight, he likely wasn’t going to stop throwing punches until either he or Bucky collapsed. And with Bucky eliminated as a threat, there would be no one standing between John and her. With that thought, she brought the knife out from behind her and clutched it to her chest like a lifeline. She watched Bucky and John with rapt attention, waiting for the fight to turn back in her direction again.

Blood began to gush from Bucky’s nostrils in a thick stream, staining his lips a wet scarlet and dribbling down his chin. But, he smiled, shaking his head slightly and chuckling darkly. 

“You’re really askin’ for it now, Walker.” 

Before (Y/N) could even blink, Bucky sprung, landing a jab and a right cross that hit John square in the chin. He grabbed John by the collar and slammed him into his knee, the pure force knocking the wind out of John’s chest with a meek groan. Bucky pushed John roughly into a table and John stumbled, causing a chair to clatter and fall, but he remained upright, leaning heavily against the table.

“You going to fight back at all?” Bucky’s goading tone took (Y/N) by surprise. Why was he egging him on?

John snorted and cracked his neck, trying to shake an encroaching sense of uncertainty from his limbs. He pushed off from the table and began a slow, circling orbit around the center of the room, sizing Bucky up with a violent, wolflike gaze, pushing the other customers flush against the wall. Bucky simply stood in place and watched, trying to anticipate John’s next move.

John stopped circling when he was directly across from (Y/N), Bucky between them. She felt John’s gaze slide from Bucky to her, his eyes languidly raking over her body, sensing out her fear. When he saw the knife in her hand, he raised an eyebrow in disapproval, shaking his head. Her heart pounded, adrenaline beginning to thrum through her veins once more. 

John widened his stance and bent his knees, assuming an athletic stance in preparation to tackle Bucky.  Bucky imitated his movement, planting his feet firmly into the floor. John inhaled deeply through his nose, once, twice, and then, he took off, running towards Bucky at full speed.

The room watched in silence, holding a collective breath. The only sound was the pounding of John’s boots against hardwood, the music paused long ago.

He hit Bucky with the force of a mack truck. It was enough to knock anyone off their feet, even someone who had fared as well as Bucky in the fight so far. John hit him so hard that they went flying, suspended in the air for a moment. For (Y/N), it felt so much longer, watching her savior struggle against the grip of his opponent in midair, uttering a quiet “Shit!” as his back slammed into the floor. And then, Bucky was still, John crouched over his immobile form, a triumphant smile plastered on his face.

(Y/N) felt her body move off its own accord, pushing away from the wall, past the safety of the bar’s counter, towards the aftermath of the fray. Her legs quivered, a hard lump rising in her throat as she pushed towards the edge of the crowd. She couldn’t see Bucky’s face, his head concealed by John’s hulking body. A shudder wracked her body, her hope waning.

It was like John could sense her presence. He looked up, his sickening grin showing glistening, too-white teeth. She flexed her fingers, adjusting her grip on the knife. John’s eyes caught the movement, sensing the glint of low light against the blade, and he smirked. He was about to rock back onto his knees, to get up and finish what he started, when Bucky’s head slammed into his.

Disoriented, (Y/N) stepped backwards, once again flush with the crowd. One moment, she had been preparing to fight, to let the blood-soaked evening devolve into even more violence. Then, the next, Bucky had suddenly reanimated, an almost superhuman force driving power into his limbs. He bucked John, still reeling from the unexpected headbutt, off of him with an aggressive, thrusting twist. John tumbled and collapsed on the floor next to Bucky, who slowly knelt, then stood, eyes on John the whole time. When John didn’t budge, splayed on the floor with a distant, vaguely dazed expression, Bucky turned his gaze to (Y/N).

The room was dead silent, save for John’s labored breathing and the sound of Bucky’s boots against the hardwood as he slowly walked towards (Y/N). The room seemed to fade around the two of them, the confused, awed, and fearful faces of the spectating patrons blurred together in an anonymous mass. It smelled of sweat and rust and spilled liquor, but she didn’t care, because Bucky was okay.

“Anyone else?” Bucky asked the rest of the room, not taking his eyes off of (Y/N), even for a moment, lest she disappear, or worse. But she didn’t, staying rooted to the same spot, eyes glistening with gratitude. And no one responded to Bucky’s challenge. 

When Bucky came to a stop a foot in front of her, the other customers began to quietly file out, afraid to utter any remarks that may provoke another altercation. John’s two cronies picked him up from the floor, hefting his arms over their shoulders and bolting for the exit, his boots dragging on the floor. (Y/N) watched them exit, watched them stuff John into the backseat of their car before they peeled out of the parking lot and took off with the screeching sound of retreating rubber.

“You know,” Bucky said, his voice soft in spite of the evening’s violent course. “You don’t have to worry about using that. You’re safe with me.” He pointed at the knife, still clutched in (Y/N)’s hands.

She looked down at the knife in her hands and then looked up at him, formulating a response, when she noticed that he had a gash on his jaw, as well as a still steadily-flowing nosebleed. The knife clattered to the floor as she reached for his hand. “You’re bleeding.” Her voice was thick with worry, regretting the fact that he had suffered for her sake.

He shook his head. “I’ve gotten worse.”

“Let me help you.” She glanced urgently around the bar, now empty save for the two of them. “I can close up and bring the first aid kit to your room. I owe you, after all of that.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” He paused for a second, considering. “But, sure. A couple of bandaids wouldn’t hurt.”

She smiled. “I’ll be there in ten.”

His brows creased together slightly, a chagrined smile curling his lips upwards. “Oh, I’m not leaving you alone just yet. We didn’t see where Walker went. He could be waiting just outside with those two other guys.”

She knew that both she and Bucky had seen them drive away, but she nodded anyways. “Alright. Just let me grab the first aid kit and my keys.”

“Deal.”

She picked the knife up from the floor and walked back to the bar, placing it gently in the sink. As Bucky walked towards the entrance, surveying the parking lot outside from the small, frosted window, she reached into the cabinet of cleaning supplies, pulling out a rusted, white box with a blaring maroon cross emblazoned on its front. She blew off the thin layer of dust that coated it and stood, grabbing her keys from the hook next to the mirror and joining Bucky at the entrance.

He turned towards her, noting the first aid kit, and grinned. “Room 102, here we come.”

She returned his smile as he opened the door, midnight air washing over them in a brisk, drafty waft. They stepped outside, engulfed in nighttime chill, and she shut the door and locked it, fumbling with the cold metal of the keys. Bucky stepped closer to her, his arm brushing against hers, his body emanating an intoxicating warmth. She welcomed his proximity, wondering if he could sense the fact that she was cold, as they walked across the parking lot to his motel room.

He pulled his key from his back pocket and slid it through the card swipe, the door unlocking with a crisp click. She was looking out at the parking lot, at the trees and darkness beyond, wondering if John and his friends were in fact lurking out there somewhere, biding their time for the right moment to strike again. He was definitely the type to hold a grudge for a night like this. If he didn’t retaliate tonight, he would soon, would let her soak in the fear for a few days and then arrive at the bar unannounced with dues to pay.

Bucky cleared his throat, and (Y/N)’s attention snapped back to him. She looked up at him, eyes wide and surprised, and found that his smile was gentle and knowing. 

“You’re safe with me. Come on, let’s get inside. It’s cold.”

When they stepped inside, they were greeted with a welcoming warmth. The door shut behind them. He walked over to the little oak nightstand next to the single queen-sized bed and turned on the bedside lamp, its bulb washing the room in a dim, glowing halo of amber. She sighed, muscles relaxing, seeming to melt into the warmth, into the comfort of being somewhere besides the bar. She placed the first aid kit on the bed and shrugged off her cardigan.

“So, doc,” Bucky teased, approaching her at the foot of the bed. “What’s the plan? How’re you going to fix me up?”

“Well,” she said, squinting as she examined his face. “We’ll have to wash all that blood off first, so I can assess the damage.”

He gestured to the bathroom with one hand. “Lead the way.”

They walked into the bathroom and he flipped the light on, its white fluorescence a stark contrast from the soft light in the other room. She grabbed a bleach-white washcloth from the shelf above the toilet and turned on the faucet, dampening the cloth under the steady stream of water. She turned off the faucet and stepped back as Bucky leaned against the sink, crossing his arms.

“This might sting,” she said quietly, stepping into the space between his legs, his stance framing hers. He simply nodded in response. She tried not to think about their sudden proximity, the fact that she was alone in a motel room with a man who had risked his own safety to protect hers, a man she had been secretly pining over for a while now. Instead, she smoothed the wet washcloth in her hands and brought it up to his face, dabbing gingerly at a stream of blood that had dried on his cheek. When she brushed against the cut on his jaw, he winced, a sharp huff of breath leaving his nose.

“Sorry,” she apologized, trying to handle the cloth with light fingers. “He really got you there.”

“Even if that’s true, part of me thinks I should thank the guy.”

(Y/N) paused. “W-what?”

“Well, he’s an absolute ass. Deserved what he got,” he chuckled. “But now, I’ve got the pretty girl who works at my favorite bar taking care of me. It was definitely worth a couple of scrapes.”

“I--” her response died in her throat, choked by the deep blush that was creeping up her neck. She paused dabbing at his face, looking at him quizzically.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, noting her creased brow and parted lips. “Too soon.”

“No-- no. It’s okay.” She shook her head and smiled, moving the washcloth to his upper lip as she wiped away the evidence of his bloody nose. I just didn’t think you felt that way, too.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, (Y/N) trying to avoid direct eye contact the whole time, lest her blush return, his face was clean. She stepped back and examined her handiwork before throwing the bloodied washcloth in the waste bin and leading Bucky back into the main room. She sat down on the bed, its springs groaning in a rusty bounce beneath her, and she opened the first aid kit, searching for a suitable bandage for his jaw. He knelt on the floor in front of her, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her, caging her in with his arms but refusing to let his touch drift any closer without permission. He watched her fingers flit indecisively between the different band-aid choices. 

Finally, she plucked one from its box, carefully unpeeling its wrapping. Bucky tilted his head slightly, allowing her easy access to the cut on his jaw, and she delicately placed the band-aid over it, careful not to press too hard against the tender skin. Her touch unconsciously lingered a moment longer, lightly caressing his face with the pads of her fingers. But after a few seconds, when she didn’t pull away, they both inhaled sharply, his face quickly growing hot. Their eyes met, and she dropped her hands to her sides, his piercing blue gaze boring into hers.

 He blinked and stood, walking over to the door and hunching down to glance at the parking lot through the peephole.

“I should get going,” (Y/N) said, voice hushed as she snapped the first aid kit shut. She stood, grabbing her cardigan, preparing to meet the cold outside and run to her permanent room. “Thank you. For everything.”

He turned away from the door. “Hold on.” His voice was grave, a stark contrast to the light, flirty turn of the evening since they had entered his room. “We still don’t know if he’s out there.”

(Y/N) bit her lip and shifted her weight, silently grateful for his hesitancy to let her be alone. “What are you suggesting?”

“You can take the bed.” He gestured to the spot on the carpet between the bed and the door. “I can take the floor.”

“A-are you sure?” 

“If I was in your position, I wouldn’t want to be alone,” he said, voice rough and quiet. “But, it’s your decision to make. I can walk you back to your room, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

She thought for a second. She agreed with Bucky’s observation that John may still be out there, lying in wait, and he had been spot-on with the remark that it would be frightening to be alone after tonight’s violence. So far, Bucky had proven himself to be good. She felt comfortable around him. He didn’t try to touch her, and he still gave her options, despite the fact that he seemed oddly protective of her. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he wouldn’t try to slip into bed next to her in the darkest hours of morning. He was a good man. He would live up to his promise and give her space, acting as a blockade between her and the outside world. For tonight, he would be the promise of warmth, of comfort, of safety.

“I think I’d be more comfortable here. With you.”

“Alright.” He offered a simple reply, walking over to her and taking the first aid kit and her cardigan from her, placing them on top of the dresser. “You’ll be safe with me,” he reassured her, bending down to look her in the eyes when he said it, uttering each word with heavy truth.

She nodded and bit her lip. When she felt her blush creeping back up her face, those stern, icy blue eyes of his fixated on her, she turned away, directing her attention towards the bed, hands smoothing over the covers. She grabbed a pillow, its blanched case stiff and rough from continual washing, and handed it to him. He smiled and took it, humming a low laugh and placing it on the floor next to the bed.

She pulled back the sheets as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Her eyelids were suddenly heavy, her body absolutely exhausted, but grateful for a safe place to rest after the day’s peril. She felt herself lull into a hypnotic state of rest before she could even pull the covers over her body, listening to the rumble of the motel’s heater and the whoosh of cars driving past on the distant highway.

Bucky finished in the bathroom and tiptoed to the closet. He grabbed the extra blanket from the top shelf, its woolen fabric starchy and coarse, and plopped it onto the floor next to his pillow. Then, he looked down at (Y/N), curled up on the bed, already halfway into a dream. He sighed, a soft smile gracing his lips, and he reached for the blankets on the bed, pulling them up over her sedated form. She shifted under the covers, settling into their warmth, and he turned off the bedside lamp, the room submerged in a sudden, but not unwelcome, darkness.

                                                             ✧

She woke to light streaming through the gap in the curtains.

The room smelled of lavender detergent and carpet cleaner, and of something distinctly masculine and unfamiliar, the scent of mint toothpaste and rainfall. She stretched, her body grateful for a restful night as memories of the previous day trickled back in. John’s threats, Bucky’s heroism. Her shyness, her inability to tell him how she felt, despite the fact that he so clearly reciprocated those feelings he had hinted at.

She sat up in bed and looked around the room. On the floor next to her, the spare blanket was folded neatly, the pillow she had given to Bucky the previous night stacked on top of it. His duffel was gone from its perch on the dresser. Any trace of him had disappeared, save for the scent that hung in the air and the memories that clung to (Y/N)’s brain.

She sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. She had a lot of work to do today. She supposed that she should probably clean up the bar after last night’s incident, and should break open the cleaning supplies that she had left untouched for so long. She wished that she had had the chance to say goodbye to Bucky before he left, a faint sense of longing gripping her throat. But, at least the cleaning would take her mind off of that, for the time being.

As she stood, she brushed through her hair roughly with her fingers, gathering the first aid kit and her cardigan. She surveyed the room one last time, bathed in soft morning light, when a square of white on the nightstand caught her eye.

Brows furrowed with confusion, she walked over, abandoning her things on the bed. On the nightstand was a notepad, an uncapped pen sitting next to it. A brief note was scribbled on it.

Call me if he comes back. 

Or, if you need me. For anything.

-Bucky

The message was followed by a phone number.

(Y/N) ripped the note from the pad and stared at Bucky’s slanted, spiked handwriting for a moment, noting the sharp angles and rushed script of his letters.

She stuffed the note in her back pocket and smiled.

[jj-babebank]

Room 107 // chapter III // JJ Maybank (smut)

This story picks up where season 2 leaves us.

TW: May contain mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CAN BE FOUND HERE: one ; two

Chapter 3 - La Ganga

Samara’s hand was still resting on JJ’s knee as her eyes sultrily bored into his, waiting for his response. JJ’s head was spinning in a thousand different directions, trying to assess what exactly was going on. The main issue he had with this whole ordeal was that she didn’t in fact invite him over because she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. The sad truth, as JJ came to realise, was that this annoyingly attractive girl had simply overheard him boasting to his friends about the gold that they had found, and respectively lost, and now she wanted a piece of that instead. JJ sighed loudly. As much as he hated to admit that this was a bad idea, he pushed that thought very far to the side and tried to negotiate with the part of his brain that didn’t think logically, which in his case was the dominating one. What exactly could he lose here? The chances of them finding the Royal Merchant gold were extremely low, to the point where they were almost non-existent. This girl was voluntarily offering to help them find it, and she was also willingly to let them stay in her family’s hotel for free until further notice. How JJ saw this was extremely straight-forward and simple - Samara asks for part of the gold, Samara offers her help in return for the gold, JJ accepts said offer and lets her help, growing closer to her in the meantime, seducing her and eventually winning her over, so that even they don’t find the actual treasure, she realises that the real treasure was right there with her all along, at it wore worn down biker boots and went by the name of JJ Maybank. Yep, that sounded like a great plan, one of his best plans yet, if he did say so himself. He looked down at Samara’s hand still on his knee, a ball of excitement growing in his stomach just at the sight of it being there, then he looked up at her face, twisting the corners of his thin lips into a smirk. “You have yourself a deal, gorgeous,” he said, his confidence suddenly returning to his body. The old JJ senses were coming back headfirst and he was feeling great about it. Samara smiled in return, raising her glass for a toast, “To working together,” JJ clinked his glass with hers, sending her a wink, “To working with each other,” The pair sat in silence for a moment, JJ mostly admiring the girl sitting next to him, before she broke the silence, “Where did you say you were from, JJ?” “We never got to that part, actually,” he answered, glad that Samara was taking interest in him, “I’m from a place called the Outer Banks, more specifically Kildare. It’s in North Carolina, right by the coast.” He explained, painting an imaginary picture of what he was saying with his hands, "You know, prior to ending up here, which was a total coincidence by the way, the furthest I’d been from Kildare was Charleston. I, uh, I haven’t really been anywhere.” Samara was studying his face while he was talking. She had asked him a simple question and was expecting a simple answer, yet this boy could just seemingly not stop talking. She couldn’t decide whether it was annoying, or strangely endearing. She almost felt bad for having to shut him up to change the topic to what she had actually called him over for, “So tell me about this gold,” Lucky for her, JJ didn’t seem to mind her direct approach to the change of subject, instantly going into another story - the one that interested her the most. “Funny you ask,” he said enthusiastically, taking a rather big sip of his wine, “So as I said, I’m from the Outer Banks. Let me describe the OBX to you - it’s an odd place, you see, a place much like any other in the sense that it’s divided into rich and poor, however that divide is a suuuuper big deal to us. You’ve got the rich and elite bastards called the Kooks, and you’ve also got the not so lucky ones who work for them - the Pogues. Me and those guys you so kindly invited into your home, are, well, were Pogues. Except for Sarah, she was rich-rich.” There it was again - JJ getting completely side-tracked in his own thoughts, talking about irrelevant to the topic of conversation things.

Samara somehow found it entertaining and she wasn’t particularly bothered by it so she just let him speak, hoping that he’d eventually get to the point. “- so one day, it turned out that John B’s old man was dead, although he’d left behind all these clues and well, one thing lead to another, we found the gold, except we weren’t the only people looking for it, obviously,” Bingo, there it was - the gold. Samara knew this was her cue to focus, “- so when we were finally within touching distance of the gold and the cross - boom - we threw ourselves of the ship to dodge getting totally killed, and, well, here we are.” JJ wrapped up his story, leaning back into the couch and sighing contently with what he believed to be a great short summary of what had happened to him and his friends, finishing the rest of his wine. Samara frowned as she did the same, “Hold that thought,” she said, standing up and disappearing into the diner for a brief moment, before coming back with a bottle of the infamous whiskey from earlier, it had just enough contents to fill up one more glass each. JJ smirked at the sight of her when she sat back down next to him and she frowned dramatically, “What? I thought this called for something a bit stronger.” JJ didn’t protest as the pretty brunette refilled their wine glasses with the harder liquor, “I have a cousin up in Daytona,” she said as matter-of-factly, “He owns a motel in the Holly Hill area. We can crash up there while we head up north. We’ll leave first thing Thursday morning, before my aunt and cousin come back. I’ll make sure we have everything we need by then, we have just enough time.” “Why are we heading up north?” JJ looked puzzled, “And how many cousins with hotels do you have?” “Seeing as we know virtually nothing about where these people were heading, the most logical thing that we can do is go back to the Outer Banks and try finding out as much as we can from there. There must be someone who knows.” The more she spoke, the more it made sense to JJ. Ward would have made sure to erase all of his traces by now, Rafe would have tried his best to follow in his father’s footsteps, however there was one member of the Cameron family who was, for the lack of a better word, messy. And that was Wheezie Cameron, Sarah’s younger sister. JJ was sure that Ward would have changed all of their phone numbers, if they were even still allowed to have a phone, however the thought of Wheezie Cameron totally removing herself from social media was by far absurd to JJ. He was sure that they would be able to somehow trace her even without having to go all the way back to the OBX, but before they could do that, this was their only option. Samara had turned out smarter than he had made her out to be initially. She was cunning, generous and helpful, all traits that JJ never thought he’d find this attractive in a woman. Hell, up until now he’d never even looked for any traits in women beyond their physical appearance, yet here he was - a changed man. “You, miss,” he pointed at her with the hand he held his wine glass in, “Are a genius. Has anyone ever told you that?” Samara snickered, although she couldn’t help the slight blush that was painting itself across her tanned cheeks, “Don’t push your luck too much, JJ, we’ve only just met,” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, almost appearing shy for a split second. This didn’t go unnoticed by JJ and he took it as a green light to scoot a bit closer to her, to the point where their faces were inches apart. He couldn’t help but breathe her scent in, and boy did she smell alluring, her perfume heavy and somewhat oriental, at least that’s how JJ would describe it. It reminded him of all the times he’d served tables down on Figure Eight and rich Kook girls would walk past him, leaving behind a scent of expensive designer perfume. Samara almost reminded him of a rich Kook girl, she looked so well put together and so on top of her shit. Good thing they weren’t in the OBX anymore, otherwise his friends would grill him for breaking the one promise he had made to himself

long, long ago - never getting with a Kook. Except she wasn’t a Kook, they weren’t in the OBX and much to his dismay - him and her were hardly getting with each other. He realised that winning Samara over would take time, and lucky for him, he had all the time in the world. Finding Ward and the gold would take a while and he was up for an adventure, especially since it included this gorgeous young lady. He studied her some more. Her skin looked so soft, and so did her lips - so soft, so inviting. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, shaped like almonds, and the way she batted her luscious lashes almost made her seem like she was keeping a number of dark and dangerous secrets. JJ knew that deep down she saw something in him, too. She just needed the right push to admit it. A stray strand of her hair fell in her face and before she could react, JJ gently tucked it away behind her ear, taking his time when his fingers met her face. He let them linger there for a second before pulling his hand away. “Thanks,” was all that she could say. “Don’t mention it,” he said gently, “We’re gonna be partners after all, we’ve gotta help each other out, right?” Samara almost rolled her eyes at the sound of JJ referring to them as ‘partners’, but she withheld from it. Something about this boy was very endearing to her, in a lost puppy type of way, and she didn’t want to admit it, but she didn’t entirely dislike his company. Au contraire, it had been a while since she had had someone around. This didn’t seem all bad to her - she would go for a little adventure, make some friends, and if all goes to plan, she’ll come home with a bag full of gold. Hell, if she felt frisky enough she could even JJ the time of day once or twice - no strings attached, of course. He seemed keen enough, that much she knew. And she had never been with anyone in that way before, much to everyone’s disbelief. She wasn’t going to tell him that, of course, especially not now. Perhaps it was the alcohol speaking, but she suddenly found him so attractive. He was her usual type - seemed like the local bad boy back home, the one who didn’t abide by the rules and got himself in trouble more often than not - and only God knew just how much Samara liked the bad boys. His fingers, although rough and calloused, left the softest touch, and she was ashamed to admit she wished he’d left them there for a moment longer. She crossed her legs and sat up straighter, trying to regain her composure. She knew she’d had enough to drink. She couldn’t do this here, especially not tonight, not in her aunt’s hotel. She knew that if she didn’t call quits to the night now, things might get ugly and she didn’t want to lose her composure with JJ yet. “Shall we?” She said, trying her hardest to sound as confident and unfazed as she could, “Head to bed I mean,” She quickly added, mentally kicking herself for not clearing it up and potentially giving JJ the wrong idea. Judging by the growing smirk on the boy’s face she realised she’d just dug herself a hole. “I thought we’d only just met, Miss La Guardiana,” he winked, standing up and offering his hand to help her up. She accepted it and turned on her heel towards the stairs as soon as she was on her feet, sassily flipping her hair as she did so. JJ followed after her, smirk only growing as they walked up the stairs and into the hallway to their respective rooms. When they reached JJ’s room, they both stopped, Samara leaning against the wall. “Fill your friends in on our plan so far,” she said, “About heading up to Daytona, I mean. I’ll take care of everything else until then.” JJ raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what she meant by ‘everything else’. She noticed his confusion and decided to clear it up, “I’ll sort out some clothes for all of you, food is on the house, we’ll also need some cash so…” she eyed JJ up and down, an idea forming in her head, “Perhaps you could be useful while we’re still here and work for it, I’m thinking… waiter?” JJ almost laughed, “Baby girl, you name it - I’ve probably done it. Back home, there isn’t a job I

haven’t worked, just to make enough to put food on the table. Besides, serving food and drinks is the least I could do to repay your kindness,” his eyes darkened as he took a step closer to Samara. His face was getting dangerously close to hers, never breaking eye contact, “It’ll be my pleasure to work for you, miss La Guardiana,” Samara held her ground, trying to keep her cool as much as she physically could. On the inside, she was on fire. “Likewise, mister Kildare,” she whispered, inching her body closer to JJ’s; she wanted to push his buttons as far as she could in the moment. They stood there in silence for a moment; they didn’t need to say anything - their eyes were doing all the talking. JJ couldn’t keep his eyes off Samara’s lips, though when he finally gave in and leaned forward, the girl took a sudden step backwards towards her room, leaving him breathless. “Make sure you wake all of your friends up early tomorrow,” she simply said, “You didn’t think you’d be the only one who’d have to work for a living around here did you? “ she faked a grimace, still stepping backwards towards her room, “Meet me tomorrow in the lobby at 8. We’ve got work to do,” she stopped in front of her door, pressing her key into the lock, “Oh, and JJ?” Her door clicked open, “I really enjoyed tonight. Looking forward to our next date. Goodnight,” with that, she was gone. Did she say date? JJ stood in the hallway for a moment before going into his room. He couldn’t hide the grin on his face even if he wanted to. Samara totally had a thing for him and he couldn’t wait to dive into this new adventure - the gold being the last thing on his mind, because maybe, just maybe, Samara wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

[whitexwingedxdoves]

a love like war | part one

Sequel to The Other Side 

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/her Warnings: Language, Violence Summary: Despite your best efforts you just cant seem to avoid Negan A/N: SHES HERE. IM EXCITED <3 Again all the thanks goes to @jinxeee​​ <3 Tags: @aubageddon91

“You belong to me” he whispered, catching you off guard and it showed “you always will” he added before you stepped away from the man, the confused look creasing your soft face as you reached for the door.

“Go to hell” you snapped before leaving the room, once you were outside you pressed yourself against the brick wall to catch your breath

You avoided the gardens like the plague after your interaction with Negan and it brought up some questions with Daryl, he’d grill you day after day, asking what was wrong until you had enough and told him everything. At first he was taken back by the assumption you and he were somewhat an item but he soon channelled that into anger, he hated the idea of you and Negan. He’d tell you, you deserved so much better than him and of course you’d agree. After that day, he promised to stay by you whenever you went out to the gardens so that Negan couldn’t corner you, and he thought he could get some revenge of his own by purposely flirting with you whenever the prisoner was watching. Of course his flirting was much more subtle than what you usually encountered, he’d pick you a fresh strawberry and tuck your hair behind your ear every so often but mostly he made you laugh to the point you’d forget that any one could be watching. You’d scold him when you’d get home at night but you’d never tell him you enjoyed knowing Negan would think of nothing else in his cell at night.

You felt confident walking through the gardens on your own today, you did your job checking up on people as you inspected the quality of the crops all while your face flushed red, attempting to avoid Negan’s stare. You left his section until last, thinking you could quickly get it done and leave before he had a chance to say anything to you but of course, that was too good to be true. Brandon stood over Negan as you approached but quickly dropped his weapon to his side as you did, he looked eager to ask you something “Im really sorry Y/N but I ain’t feeling all too good and there aint no one else I can ask'' You took a deep breath anticipating his question “Do you mind taking watch while I visit the doctor?” you cleared your throat before taking the spear he held in his hand from him, sending him a small smile and a nod.

“Sure” you watched as he hurried along to the infirmary, your heart dropping once you noticed you were now alone with the one man you didn’t want to be alone with.

You looked down at the man who was already staring back up at you with a wide smile, you rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the rest of the garden. “You know when I first saw you sat on that rock, covered in all that shit” he started, pulling at weeds from the ground before turning slightly to face you “I still though, my god is she beautiful” his tone made you snap back to his direction, scoffing at his words

“Did you think I was beautiful when you locked me up in your little torture chamber?” you spat back at the man, he held his hands up defensively, his smirk seemingly disappearing.

“I never apologised for that” his tone was much softer now but you still shook your head at him

“It’s a little late for apologies now, Negan,” the man sighed at your truth, and turned back to the weeds, pulling at the leaves while biting down on his bottom lip.

“I am. Sorry that is. If I had known- I can’t help but think how different everything would be” he sounded defeated which pulled at your heart a little until you realise who you were talking to.

“It’s gonna take more than a meaningless apology for me to forgive you” you didn’t mean for it to come out as a hiss but it did. Your eyes now scanning the area to track down someone to take over for you, Negan surprisingly stayed quiet as you did just that. You signalled for someone to come over before you looked back down at Negan. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for what you did to me” you whispered before handing the spear to the man who saved you from Negan duty.

-

The next day you gathered before the council, you stood by Daryl as you listened to Gabriel explain a situation with a hoard of walkers and his plan for getting rid/diverting it. He put together some teams of people and explained their jobs, Daryl and Michonne were to take  down any walker that strayed from the path and Aaron, Eugene and Rosita were to divert the crowd into the next town and attempt to trap them there. You embraced Michonne and Daryl as they left the room, wishing them luck and warning them to be safe, just as you were about to leave Gabriel called on you to stay behind for a moment.

You waited behind like he had asked, waving goodbye as people passed you. “Thank you for waiting” Now that the room had cleared, Gabriel took a few steps closer to you, you flashed him a smile and perched yourself on a desk that stood behind you.

“What can I do for you?” you questioned, oblivious to his intentions. He gave you a warm smile as he paced before you

“I want you out there too. I haven’t forgot that you were one of the best back at the sanctuary and think its time we put our skills to good use!” you couldn’t disagree with him, you pushed your lips together as you nodded at his words, waiting for further instructions. “I want you – I want you to go out there and keep the walkers on the right path” you cocked a brow at the man, you figured Daryl and Michonne already had that covered but he seemed convinced they may need extra help. “I also would like for you to take Negan with you”

You wondered if you had heard him correctly as you pushed yourself away from the desk “I'm sorry? You want me to take who?” You scoffed at the man when he repeated the prisoners name, shaking your head at his suggestion. “The man who left me in a room to die, that Negan?” your words tasted a little salty as you questioned the priest,  his head hung low as he took a deep breath.

“I see how he acts when you’re around. I have faith he will keep you safe!” you rolled your eyes at his words, chewing on the corner of your mouth as you thought of all the possibilities of being left alone out there with Negan “He’s a good fighter, we need that!” He added, walking closer to you before placing a hand on your shoulder, you avoided his stare as you looked down at your feet. “We can’t let anything bad happen to you but Negan? He’s a life I’m willing to risk for the safety of the community” Eventually he broke you down enough to get you to agree with his ridiculous plan. Before you even left the gates, you warned Negan not to speak a word to you, threatening his life if he even breathed in your direction and off you went, leading the man to your station.

-

Negan seemed to keep to his promise and not a word was spoken during your time travelling, when you reached your spot there were already a couple of stray walkers roaming around. Reluctantly you handed Negan a knife and watched him run off to kill the walkers, you offered no help as you stood back and watched him take down each walker, he barely had time to rest when the next set came limping over to him. You decided to sit down in the grass, drinking out of your canteen ignoring his struggles. By this point he must have killed over 20 of those things, he was panting and sweating yet you did nothing to resolve his exhaustion. It felt like it was the perfect display of karma, like the world had finally given you what you had been asking for, for years. The walkie on your hip started to buzz before Rosita’s voice spilled through the speakers notifying you that their plan worked and they would see you all back at Alexandria, Michonne’s was next claiming that she and Daryl didn’t have a lot of strays and they were ready to head home. You thought it was best you didn’t reply, none of them actually knew you were out there and you didn’t want them to panic.

You looked up at Negan, he had a couple walkers on him but you figured after they had gone, you’d be fine to head home too. You picked yourself up and brushed off any dirt that may have collected over time and turned on your heels to get the car started. What you didn’t expect was the dead that seemed right on your tail, You grappled with the creature before it took you down. You managed to keep it at arms length but you knew if you reached for your knife it would get you, you called out for help as you struggled to hold its weight. It felt like you were under the dead for a while, the feeling far too familiar as it snapped its jaws at you, suddenly the snapping stopped and the body became limp over the top of you, allowing you to throw it off to the side.

A hand reached out for you to grab and you did, a little too hazy to realise who’s hand it was. Once you were on your feet, your gaze met Negan’s and you allowed a small sigh to pass your lips “Thanks” you whispered, brushing off your clothes “you know if you’d have left me to die, you’d be free right now” you added, disguising your grateful words.

“Na, wouldn't be worth it” you cocked your brow at the man now you had finished cleaning your clothes, he shrugged at you a small smirk gracing his features, his tongue caressing his bottom lip. “the five minutes a day I get to see you, is worth way more than freedom”

[gingeralepdf]

Walk On By - Part 1

shoutout to @harrylefleur​ for this^ amazing edit!! thanks again for letting me use it, it’s perfect!!

A/N: hello!! i’ve been slowly cooking up this 70s dealer!harry au (also known as shroomrry) fic ever since the first italy pics surfaced. i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you have fun reading it! another massive thank you to brailey @daydreamsofh​ for yelling about shroomrry with me since the very first rough draft. your encouragement and support means so much to me!! ily <3

****DISCLAIMER/WARNING: This fic includes scenes in which characters purchase and consume recreational drugs (psilocybin mushrooms) as well as purchase and consume alcohol. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please do not feel pressured to read or interact with this fic. And do not consume if you are underage.****

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: ~5k

🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄🌈

**August 30th, 1977, Inglewood, California**

The evening sun beats down on you as soon as you step off the bus. You walk away from the door before reaching for the sunglasses hanging from the collar of your shirt and slip them onto your face before wiping the small beads of sweat from your brow.

“Stuffiest bus ride of my life.” Your roommate and partner in crime, Jenny, walks over to your side. She leans her head back and groans toward the sky, as if to broadcast her misery to anyone that will listen.

“Really? I thought it was a five star experience,” you reply flatly.

Jenny scoffs and looks at you in disgust before shoving your shoulder. “What bus were you on then?”

Your laughs quickly turn into blissful sighs of relief when a breeze picks up. A brief intermission from the heat and residual stickiness on your skin from the crowded bus ride.

“You’ve still got the tickets and the money, right?” Jenny asks.

“Yep.” You pat your purse. “You’ve still got that guy’s license plate number, right?”

Jenny reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, “Yep.”

**********************************

The sign outside of the Forum looms over your heads as you enter the parking lot. The large black letters on the sign simply read ‘FLEETWOOD MAC. NIGHT TWO. SOLD OUT’. Even more gigantic is the Forum itself. You’ve been to a couple of shows at this venue before today, but you still can’t get over just how massive it is. It makes you feel so small even when you’re standing one hundred feet away from it.

Your mind begins to buzz with excitement and anticipation knowing that you’ll soon be inside seeing possibly one of the most in-demand shows of the year. It’s incredibly lucky that you were able to score these tickets anyway. Having a job at a radio station definitely has its perks.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Jenny’s nudging elbow. She holds the paper that has the numbers and letters of a license plate number scrawled on it in front of both of you.

“He drives a blue Pontiac Tempest. He said he was gonna try to park in the third row,” she says.

Both of you look at the paper for a minute, trying to commit the number to memory before setting out to comb the parking lot in search of this mystery man.

With all the other people milling around and gathering in the line outside of the venue, you wonder how many of these people are on a similar mission as you and your friend.

You turn to Jenny, “Do you know what this Harry guy looks like?”

“Uh,” Jenny draws out before pulling her gaze from the line of cars beside her. “My cousin Kathryn said he’s white,” she begins listing things off on her fingers, “has brown hair, has a lot of tattoos, and he’s British,” she looks at you and wiggles her eyebrows.

Jenny laughs when you roll your eyes, “Oh my god I know he’s British. You’ve been going on and on about how he sounded on the phone.” You walk a few more paces before asking, “How does she know him again?”

“They work together at the record store. You probably would have already met him if you weren’t so pretentious about where you buy your records.”

You switch from scanning over license plates to squinting at Jenny, “I’m not pretentious, the owner of that place is just an asshole.”

“You say that about nearly every record store owner.”

“Only the ones that are fifty year old men who constantly degrade female customers’ music tastes.”

Jenny sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Most of them are assholes.”

“Hey, maybe with your business degree you can be the first record store owner that’s not an asshole.”

She smiles at you and taps her temple with her index finger. “That’s not a bad idea.” Her eyes flit over your shoulder. She stops abruptly and grabs your arm, “Oh-- hey, I think that’s him right there.”

You turn to follow her gaze. Immediately you spot the blue car. You both take another look at the note in Jenny’s hand. Sure enough, the license plate on the car in front of you is a perfect match.

So this is Harry. He has his head down and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration just beneath the frames of his yellow sunglasses. There’s a pencil behind his right ear and his left elbow is resting on the door frame, sticking out of his rolled down window, while his fingers are mindlessly fiddling with his neat mustache. On that same arm, you see scattered tattoos that begin at his wrist and run all the way up into the sleeve of his green and white striped t-shirt. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting of this man, but you can’t help but be struck by how handsome he is. The low hanging sun is casting golden light through his back window, shining through the ends of his brown tousled hair.

The pressure of a hand on your back pushing you forward causes you to whip around.

“Could you go talk to him?” Jenny asks softly.

You give her a ‘what are you talking about?’ look, “You’ve already spoken to him on the phone, Jen, he doesn’t know me.”

“I mentioned you,” she pleads. “Ugh I know I talked to him on the phone but now that I see him in person I’m too nervous.”

You take another look at Harry and look back to Jenny. “Okay, come on.”

As you get closer to his car with Jenny trailing behind you, you begin to hear the music blasting from his radio. Hearing the chorus of “Dancing Queen” somehow makes this situation a touch less intimidating.

You take your sunglasses off your face and hang them from the collar of your shirt. You  clear your throat once you feel like you’re close enough, hoping this would catch his attention. When he doesn’t move, you open your mouth only to realize that you have no idea what you want to say.

“Um,” you hesitantly mumble to yourself as you reach up and knock on the top frame of his window.

He slightly jumps and pulls his arm into the car in response. He mutters a ‘fucks sake’ before quickly turning his head to you, his eyebrows now creased in aggravation.

You jerk your hand back to your side. You’re not sure if it’s the pressure of having to do the talking or his intense stare, but you suddenly can't seem to string a full sentence together.

“Hi. Sorry. I, er--, we... um. We were supposed to--”

Harry looks past you to glance at Jenny and his face softens. He reaches over to turn the radio down before pointing his finger between the two of you, “Kathryn’s friends?”

“Yes,” you sigh in relief.

He nods, brushes a few stray hairs from his forehead and tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “Yeah, come on in.”

Hearing his soft British accent is a lot more endearing than Jenny’s annoying impressions of what he sounded like on the phone.

Jenny follows you around to the passenger side door and you pull on the handle.

When it doesn’t open, you reach through the window for the lock. You freeze when Harry’s hand meets yours. You lower your head slightly to look through the window and see him leaned over, still staring at your hands that are both grabbing the lever. He looks up at you and slightly shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls his hand away and reaches to lean the passenger seat forward.

You open the door and gesture for Jenny to climb in first. After you get in and close the door behind you, you plop down in the back seat next to Jenny, who’s sitting behind Harry. You do your best to hold back a hiss when the heat from the light blue leather seats burns through your trousers and the back of your thin t-shirt.

The car smells fresh and is very tidy aside from a few crushed gum packages on the floorboard. Two little tree air fresheners hang from his rearview mirror, swaying in the slight breeze. You peep down to his dashboard and smile.

“I like your stickers,” you blurt out, pointing to the smiley face sticker and the strawberry sticker above the volume and tuning dials on his radio. Mostly, you’re trying to make amends for startling him a second ago, but you’re also trying to dispel some of your nerves that are still fluttering around in your stomach. The mental image of him peeling stickers from a sheet and putting them on there himself seems to be helping a little bit.

“Thanks.” He cracks a smile over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of a dimple indenting his cheek. You visibly relax your shoulders upon seeing a change in his demeanor. “Would you mind reminding me of your names?” He asks, taking a glance at his rearview mirror.

You both introduce yourselves.

“So it was you that I spoke with on the phone last week?” he asks, turning in his seat and looking at Jenny.

“Yeah, that was me,” she grins.

“Right,” he huffs. “So I know what you’re both really here for but,” he trails off as he reaches into his lap and holds up a folded newspaper, displaying the daily crossword puzzle. “Are either of you any good at these?” He shakes his head, “I’ve got like... three left and it’s driving me crazy.”

Jenny hums as she takes the paper from Harry’s hand and holds it up between you. Coincidentally, Jenny happens to be very good at these puzzles, often taking this same section out of the paper every day.

She puts her finger up to the page and begins counting the boxes in one of the columns. “Fourteen down is ‘questionnaire’.”

As you skim over the page, you catch an error that could be hanging him up. “And seven across is misspelled. ‘Memento’ should start with M- E- instead of M- O-.”

Both of you look back up at Harry and Jenny hands the paper back.

In the same motion he takes the paper from Jenny and takes the pencil from behind his ear. He sets the paper on his center console and brings his bottom lip between his teeth as he erases and fills in the boxes on the puzzle.

You and Jenny exchange a private laugh. If anyone had asked the both of you to predict how this interaction was going to go, this would not be part of it.

“Well. Thanks. It probably would have taken me forever to get those.” He tosses the paper and pencil on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat and uses his finger to push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Now, do you have cash with you?”

The shift in his tone catches you off guard, the friendly lilt in his voice being replaced by one more quiet and flat.

Jenny looks over at you.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You pull four ten dollar bills from your purse and hand them to Harry.

He fans them out before folding them twice and putting them in his pocket. He opens his console. There’s some shuffling before he closes it again and carefully passes you two small envelopes. “Should be one gram in each of those.”

You lean forward in an attempt to shield your actions from people who may be passing by. Carefully, you break the tape seals across the front of the envelopes with your thumb and take a peek inside. Satisfied with the amount of shriveled mushrooms you see, you reseal the envelopes and stuff them into your purse.

“You’ve both taken these before, right?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, a few times before this,” Jenny says.

“Nice. So you know they usually take about half an hour to start working and you’re probably in for about four to six hours of effects and all that?”

“Yeah,” you and Jenny say in unison.

“Okay, I just-- I always want to make sure, you know?” Harry scratches his chin and looks to the side in thought. “Did you drive here?”

You shake your head. “No, we took the bus. And Alice, our friend, is gonna pick us up after the concert.”

He nods, “Okay, good.” He lowers his voice. “The last thing I’ll say is I’ve seen quite a few cops around so… if I were you I’d duck into a bathroom or something to take those.” He slightly raises his hands, “But obviously all of that’s up to the both of you so…” he trails off and shrugs. “Ultimately I hope you both have fun.” He looks at you with a sincerity that puts you at ease. It makes you feel a lot better that he seems to genuinely care about both of you being safe and having an enjoyable experience. You can’t say the same for other dealers you’ve come in contact with.

“We’ll just see what happens I guess,” you shrug back.

“I think we should head in now.” Jenny says, craning her head past Harry to look at the line of people. She pats the back of his seat. “Thanks so much, we really appreciate it.”

“Sure, was great to meet you both.”

“Was good to meet you. Are you going to the show as well?” you ask while reaching forward for the door handle.

He instantly perks up. “I am. Managed to get a ticket. It’s in the nosebleeds but…”

“I had nosebleeds when Queen was here a few months ago and it was still a fantastic show,” you reassure him. You climb out and hold the door for Jenny. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Take care!”

You close the door and wave goodbye.

You and Jenny link arms as you’re walking toward the venue, and extra spring in your steps after jumping that hurdle.

She whispers, “I told you he was British.”

“Jen.” You roll your eyes and elbow her side.

You look over at your friend who’s now covering her mouth with her hand, poorly concealing her laughter. You steal a glance over your shoulder. The last thing you see before you turn back around is Harry staring directly back at you.

**********************************

Jenny walks in front of you, weaving through the groups of people as you both search for a water fountain to wash the earthy taste of the mushrooms from your mouths.

You both join the line behind the fountain closest to the main entrance. When Jenny leans down to take a drink, you spot a familiar green and white striped shirt amongst the crowd of people streaming in. Harry is strolling by, heading toward the arena entrance.

He glances in your direction and does a double take. He instantly grins and raises his eyebrows at you, giving you a thumbs up before mouthing ‘have fun’ and disappearing around the corner.

Your cheeks warm and your stomach flutters.

After you’ve had a drink from the fountain, you and Jenny make your way into the expansive arena and join the crowd of people in general admission.

About half way through the opening act, just as you’re about to ask Jenny if she feels anything happening yet, you see her looking at you fervently and everything around you starts to feel dream-like. The spotlights on the stage begin to look like halos, making it impossible for you to turn away. You start to feel as if the music you’re hearing is coming from your own body. The drum beat bursting through your chest and every note from the guitars coming from the tips of your fingers and the ends of your hair.

The euphoria of being surrounded by love and joy takes over you, making you laugh and dance and sing until the music comes to an end.

**********************************

You’re sitting on the sidewalk outside of the Forum, legs crossed in front of you with your elbows resting on your knees and your head resting in your hands. The concrete  has finally cooled off after the heat of the day. You’re hunched over, currently transfixed by a trail of ants marching along the smooth surface in front of you.

“It’s like you can hear all their little footsteps,” you say, your eyes open wide in awe.

Jenny, who’s sitting across from you in a similar position, giggles in response to your observation before gasping. “I hear them too.”

Both of you snort and break out into unrestrained laughter. It’s never felt so good to have the sound of laughter ringing through your ears.

After a moment, you start to hear the sound of something else. It sounds like your name is being called, but it’s not coming from Jenny. You hear your name again, closer now. It sounds as if it’s echoing from the enormous wall of the Forum right next to you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion and curiosity as you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder.

You’re immediately filled with excitement upon seeing the friendly face walking toward you.

“Harry!” you exclaim, waving wildly.

A smile spreads across his face and you swear little sparkles appear next to his dimples.

You can’t take your eyes off of him as he makes his way over to stand next to you and Jenny. You have to crane your head back to see his face from your position on the ground.

“Hey, you alright?” he eyes both of you curiously.

You simply nod in response.

“What are you guys still doing here?”

Jenny sighs as if this is the twentieth time he’s asked, “We’re waiting for Alice.”

“Well,” he trails off while scratching the back of his head, “you probably don’t know this, but the concert ended about two hours ago.”

For whatever reason, this sends you and Jenny into a fit of howling laughter.

Jenny suddenly stops and looks at you wide eyed. “Hey, lets just take the bus home.”

You gasp and grab Jenny’s shoulder, marveling at her great idea. “The bus! Let's take the bus!”

You rise up to your knees with a newfound surge of energy and Jenny follows.

“No no no no no,” Harry surges forward and presses one of his hands on your shoulder and the other on Jenny’s, urging both of you to sit down.

He sinks to the ground along with you, propping himself on one knee. “Do you have Alice’s number with you? I can try giving her a call?”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s speaking to you. “Yeah I have my address book in my purse--,” you look down to your side and freeze at the sight of the zipper on your bag. Your stomach drops. You definitely do not want to put your hands anywhere near the jagged edges of the zipper that are suddenly taking on the shape of menacing teeth.

You barely hear Harry let out a breathy laugh. You look up to him and he points to your bag. “Need some help?”

“I….. uh…..” You’re not completely sure what to focus on or how to put your thoughts into words.

Before you can ask for help, he slowly reaches out and takes your bag between his fingers, bringing it away from its resting place on your hip. “S’ this alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.”

He slowly unzips the bag and you grimace at the unsettling noise. Once it’s been opened all the way, he slightly tilts it toward you and asks, “Can I look inside? Or do you wanna do it?”

You flinch away and shake your head profusely, raising your hand up as a barrier between you and the bag. “No, you do it.”

He looks down, reaches his hand into your purse and starts carefully poking through it.

Your shoulders relax as you turn your focus to his hair. It seems to be much curlier and fluffier than before. It looks… inviting, like a soft blanket that you want to curl up into. It seems to have its own gravitational pull. You lean forward, bury your nose in it and take a deep breath in. The smell of apples and some cologne you don’t recognize and the scent of his sweat swirl together in an exhilarating way.

Harry slowly lifts his head up and eyes you suspiciously over the frames of his sunglasses that have slid down the bridge of his nose. Now that you’re sitting here eye to eye with him, you notice every single detail of his face that you hadn’t been privy to before. Every eyelash, the crease between his eyebrows and the way one of them is slightly raised. The deep set dimple in his cheek due to the smirk pulling up on one side of his mouth. The thin green irises of his eyes.

The more you look into them, the bigger they get, and the more you’re able to see your own reflection in his pupils. You tilt your head and smile as they keep growing in size. Just as they're getting to a comical level, making him look more like a cartoon character, you notice a blush creep onto his cheeks.

He folds his lips into his mouth, blinks rapidly, and shakes his head before returning to his search through your purse.

Harry finally pulls out your yellow leather address book. The white daisies printed on the cover seem to dance and twirl in place when he holds the book up and opens it.

Your purse is returned to its previous position on your hip before he looks at you again. He points his thumb over his shoulder at the payphone a few feet from you. “I’m gonna go call Alice. You guys just stay right here, alright?”

When he starts to get up to his feet, you blurt out, “I have dimes you can use.”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he waves you off, “That’s alright, I’ve got some.”

You watch as he walks over to the payphone. You watch as he digs into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of coins in his palm. He inserts a dime into the coin slot and cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear. You watch his every move until the stripes on his shirt begin to ripple as if they’re made of water. This plus the flickering light above the phone becomes too much for you to handle.

You lay on your back with your hands folded across your stomach and begin to take in the stars in the sky, which are somehow less overwhelming than a simple striped t-shirt.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this. You feel like you’re so close to the stars in the night sky that you could reach out to touch one, or maybe even cradle one in your hands to feel its warmth. The sound of Jenny sitting next to you humming some tune you don’t quite recognize only adds to the peacefulness you’re feeling.

A bright light suddenly overwhelms your vision and you look over to your left to see a pair of headlights coming toward you. You hoist yourself up from the ground and bring your arm up to shield your eyes from the blinding light.

The car screeches to a halt at the curb. The first thing you see after the driver’s side door opens is a head of curly hair that can only belong to your friend Alice.

“Holy shit you guys. I’m so so so sorry.” She rushes over to where you and Jenny are sitting. Only half of the words she’s saying are even registering in your mind. “I ended up falling asleep and then there was a car wreck on the freeway and traffic was backed up for miles and-” She stops in her tracks once she’s standing in front of you and snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god you guys are so fucking high.”

Her laughter is interrupted by Harry. “Are you Alice?”

“Yeah, who are you?” she replies with a slight edge to her voice.

“Sorry. I-- I’m Harry. I... uh… I gave them the…”

“Oh you’re Harry. Well. Thanks so much for sticking around with them but I can take it from here.” She shakes hands with Harry before extending a hand to Jenny, helping her stand up and walking her to the car.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way to your feet and walk over to Harry. He grunts when you clumsily wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you Harry. You’re a very nice person,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re… You’re welcome.” The vibration of his chest when he chuckles travels all the way down to your toes. You also pick up the thrumming of his heart beating wildly against your ear. His hand lightly rubs your back.

You soon hear Alice’s voice behind you saying your name. The feeling of her lightly tugging on your t-shirt coaxes you away from Harry and into her arms.

Before you know it, you’re settled into the backseat of Alice’s car next to Jenny and Alice is shifting to drive.

As you slowly pull away from the curb, you steal a glance over your shoulder to see Harry standing on the curb. He has one hand on his hip and the other is scratching his jaw as he watches your car move away. His figure is getting smaller and smaller as you leave the venue. Just before you turn the corner, you see him step over to the payphone again.

**September 1st, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

You take a long sip of your coffee as you carefully place the needle on your record player. After a few seconds of rustling and popping, the first kickdrums of The Five Stairsteps’ “O-o-h Child” fill your living room, followed by a chorus of trumpets.

Jenny left for work early in the morning and you have a day off, so you’re relishing in the freedom of having the house to yourself.

You walk through the doorway into the kitchen where your fried egg is sizzling on the stove. With your free hand, you take a plate from the cabinet and set it on the counter before grabbing a spatula, turning the burner off, and carefully lifting the egg out of the pan onto your plate. You pluck the piece of toast from your toaster and turn to set your plate on the table along with your coffee mug. The only thing missing is the newspaper, which is most likely still sitting at the end of your driveway from the morning delivery.

You pad through the hallway to the front door, turn the lock, and swing it open. As soon as the early fall air hits you, however, you come to a halt and let out a shocked gasp.

An equally startled Harry is standing on your front doorstep with one hand behind his back and the other hovering over your doorbell. All of your systems stall for a moment, as if you’re trying to connect whatever dots you can to make this scene make sense in your brain. You can feel heat quickly spreading all over your face each second you both stand there in silence, which you both break at the same time.

“What are you--?”

“Sorry I--”

You press your lips together and wait for him to continue.

“I’m sorry. I, um,” he clears his throat before dropping his hand by his side, “I should have called ahead of time.”

“What-- uh,” you stop to rephrase your question since What are you doing here? sounds a little more blunt than you’re wanting to be. “What brings you here?”

“I just thought I would stop by on my way to work.” He pulls his hand from behind his back, revealing the yellow and white cover of your address book in his hand. “Wanted to return this to you.”

He must have picked up on your confusion as you take the book from his hand and run your thumb over the cover.

“I’m sorry. I accidentally left it on top of the payphone after the concert. Didn’t realize until you had already driven off. But your address and everything is written in the front so… thankfully it wasn’t hard to figure out how to get it back to you.” He gestures to the book before jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Oh,” you draw out as the realization dawns on you. In the process of debriefing your trip with Jenny and Alice, you thought that Harry had given your address book back to you, concluding that it must have been somewhere in your house. You figured it would turn up someplace unexpected, and technically you turned out to be right. You laugh to yourself, “I thought I lost it somewhere in my house or something. I-- Thank you.”

You spare a glance at him for long enough to catch the tight grin on his face, causing his dimples to indent on his cheeks.

As you’re taking in his loose fitting white shirt and ripped jeans, you’re quickly becoming aware of the fact that you’re only dressed in cotton shorts and your old UCLA t-shirt you had slept in. If this whole interaction had been timed better you at least could have run to your bedroom to throw on pants or a sweater before answering the door. You reflexively cross your arms in front of you.

“So you had a good time, I hope?” Harry’s question interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. Alice just brought me and Jenny back here and we sat around listening to music and talking. Then we pretty much spent all day yesterday sleeping so.” You shrug.

“Did your bag give you any more trouble?” he squints, pausing around the word ‘bag’ and giving you a sly smirk.

You scoff and shift your weight to lean against the doorframe. “No, it did not,” you mutter defensively toward the ground.

He breathes a laugh through his nose and you urge yourself to steer the subject of conversation slightly away from the specifics of your high state the other night.

“Also, thanks so much for staying there with us. I mean, who knows what we could have gotten into.”

“Oh, it was no problem. I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff while on shrooms, even when I’m supervised so…” he trails off into a chuckle.

You smile at his confession, somehow you can’t imagine this level-headed man doing anything stupid.

He continues. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” After a brief pause he adds, “You and Jenny.”

Your eyes snap up after he corrects himself.

He looks down at your doormat, scratching his chin. His cheeks tinge a light shade of pink.

“Well thank you. And thank you for coming to return this,” you say through a deep sigh, raising the book in your hand.

“Of course.” He looks over his shoulder at his car parked on the curb before turning back to you. “Well, I better get going. Was good to see you.” He nods before turning toward the street.

“Yeah, see you around.”

“Take care!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing a peace sign in the air.

Once he’s walked away, you retreat into your hallway and close the door. Your house is now quiet since the record you were playing has reached its end. There’s nothing to mask the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. You stare at the door for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head.

“See you around?” you mock yourself. “Where are you going to see him around?” You rest your forehead against the door and let out a deep sigh that gradually turns into a groan.

Harry’s car rumbles to a start outside. You don’t want to release the tension in your shoulders until you’re certain he’s driven away.

A thump on the other side of the door makes you jolt back. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you look through the peephole and see Harry climbing into his car and shutting the door.

You reach down to the door knob and open the door halfway, barely poking your head out. You can’t seem to find the source of the noise until you look down and see the newspaper rolled up in a rubber band sitting on your welcome mat.

You glance back at Harry just in time for him to flash a smile, give you a wave, and take off down the street.

*************************************************

thank you so much for reading!!

if you enjoyed part 1, please remember that reblogs and/or nice messages mean the world to fic writers. <3

you can find my masterlist here and my inbox here

-> PART TWO <-

[turtlegirlave]

So this has a ton of opinions which I usually stray away from but i really let all my opinions out here. Also there is definitely fact mistakes, probably name mistakes and some incorrect singing terms in here, I wrote this at 2 A.M. with a limited knowledge of theater I’m just trying to get a point across.

Why s2 of hsm the series should have been newsies instead of beauty and the beast:

They say straight up in the show “we need a real Alan Menkhen musical” and they pick beauty and the beast instead of newsies, a literal Broadway stage production???

At first I assumed it was because the cast was primarily male, but that isn’t even a reasonable argument. 1)as shown by s1 when a boy played sharpay, gender doesn’t matter when being considered for a role. 2), a cast with multiple male leads would give the gay men in the show a chance to shine, instead of shoving them to background roles like Chip. Not to mention Carlos is a dancer, and newsies is a musical driven by choreography. 3), since nini moved there are only like 2 lead females anyway, which works for the 2 female roles in newsies.

Casting Wise, the play works SO MUCH better!

Ricky: jack kelley is a much better role for him than the beast for many reasons. First, their personalities are very similar with the mischievous main teen vibe, so the role would be like Troy where Ricky can slip into it easier. Second, it fits him better vocally. It is very clear from listening to Joshua basset sing that he has a relatively high vocal range, and singing low notes or in a deep voice doesn’t come as naturally to him. Jeremy Jordan has a similar vocal range, where he stays in higher octaves and more rarely uses a deep, monotone voice (at least never to the beast’s extent). Ricky would sound perfect singing in Jack’s vocal range. The beast, however, sings almost exclusively in an extremely deep, monotone voice that Joshua cannot easily perform.

Ashlyn: not only does she look quite similar to Katherine, but they have similar personalities as well. Also, katherine’s high and bubbly singing voice would sound lovely with Ash’s, which is also high and bubbly but often softer. This would allow her to push herself to sing louder and more confidently. And she still gets to play a smart bookworm lead female role.

Kourtney: she was born to play miss medda larken. Mrs. Potts’ debut song “beauty and the beast” is a soft romance ballad, which does not match kourt’s stadium reach, strong, powerful voice. “That’s rich” not only shows off her vocals better, but matches her personality and voice much better with the grit and power behind it. Also, Mrs Potts as a character is the soft, motherly type. Miss medda is a rambunctious, empowered, “I got men if I want em but I don’t need em” kinda woman. Which role better fits the girl power, loud, activist, personal cheer squad type person that Kourtney is?

Carlos and Sebastian: not only would this stop shoving the gays and only interesting men other than Ricky to background roles (sorry big red), but it would show off their talents. Seb would make a wonderful crutchy, with his innocent nature and likeness to the character. It would also give him a chance to flex his vocals and sing a duet with Ricky in Santa Fe, further developing the friendships in the show. Carlos could play really any of the main boys, I mostly think he would kill in this due to his dance and choreography skills, which newsies really emphasizes.

Big red: PLEASE this boy would be perfect as Ben Cook’s role (can’t remember the newsie’s name). They’re both the kinda dumb but endearing friend type, and he leads “king of New York”, a song with a killer tap dancing break, which is the whole reason big red wanted to try out! His chemistry with Ricky as crutchy would make that a fine role for him too, but since Sebastian has stronger vocals I think it’s better for him to take a more prominent role while big red relies on his dancing skills over singing.

Gina: though there’s no more lead girl roles, I think she would kill it as mr. Pulitzer. They could add some spice to the character through her insane dance skills, and she would play a great “cunning yet intelligent buisinesswoman” type. This dude also gets 2 or 3 songs, and honestly I don’t remember who she plays in Beauty and the beast so idk.

EJ: I admit Gaston is a perfect role for him and I can’t fit him into newsies well. He would play a good spot conlin, though it is a significantly smaller role. No one really cares about ej though so small loss.

Plot valuability:

doing newsies makes literally way more sense. Firstly, they are kinda planning entering this show last-minute compared to the competition, so to pick a show already written and choreographed for stage production would really save time. (Even though it would still need work to be condensed for a high school production). Second, miss Jen is so determined to stand out from the crowd and win the contest so she picks... beauty and the beast? One of the most popular Disney movies (and honestly with one of Alan’s weaker soundtracks compared to tangled, Aladdin, and the little mermaid imo). Having them do newsies, especially when switching up gender roles like casting Gina as Pulitzer, would actually make them stand apart from the dozens of schools performing Disney movies. It would also give a significantly more impressive vocal and dance performance, since the songs were written for Broadway singers rather than actors. The set is also more cheap and condensed, while still looking professional, which would help with their “we’re too poor and late to afford a straight-up aquarium so let’s do the most with what we’ve got.” Putting the characters in these roles would also not alter their development or main story plots much, besides strengthening certain friendships and pushing aside less popular characters (ej). It would also give more rep for the gays as well as switching up gender roles. Imagine, the gay guys get actual things to do in the show and aren’t defined by the sole plot of “my boyfriend rich” relationship drama! (I love these two but I am a tired ace). Also jerjor performs in both this and tangled the series, so it’s a double whammy for Alan menkhen representation.

Marketability: I know the musical has to be widely known and appealing to viewers. People watched s1 because they love hsm. People also love beauty and the beast, so viewership may raise with fans of the movie. Newsies doesn’t die here, though. It is a very widely popular play among theatre people, and existed first as a movie musical so it isn’t exclusive to theater kids. Also, fans of Newsies are generally between their tweens and early twenties, the exact age demographic for the show. Beauty and the beast is a classic and more widely known, but also doesn’t draw in large numbers of the exact age group you want. Also, the fact that newsies is a little less mainstream only helps the plot point of them choosing it to still have something well known while also standing out from the competition. Doing beauty and the beast is not only an awful choice for casting that limits the actors vocals or is completely out of their range, but it also makes them blend in with the crowd.

Final notes: beauty and the beast was IMO the worst choice for the play this season. Movies like Aladdin and tangled both have very energetic and loud soundtracks that allow these characters to belt their hearts out. Beauty and the beast has a very folksy, quiet, ballad type of track that limits the actors. The only actor that I think sings ballads better than big booming tracks is Nini, who isn’t even in the play this year. Ricky also sings great ballads, which is why ballads that are still slow but also emotional and powerful like “Santa fe” or “something to believe in” (which would sound AMAZING in his and Ashlyn’s voices) fit much better than the deep voice of the beast that he can not comfortably sing in. Also, the beast has very few songs whereas newsies would allow him to belt his heart out in nearly every song with that lovely voice he has. The age range of the newsies cast (that characters are supposed to be 17) fits better with these very teen actors than a movie about old fashioned French young adults. Really newsies was the best musical choice for this season, but I also believe beauty and the beast was the last one they should have chosen.

(After reading comments I rescind my statement that beauty and the beast was the worst choice, but it’s still second to newsies imo)

Feel free to debate me in the comments or point out my mistakes, I’m very open to other points of view

[impala1967dwinchester]

Jensen Ackles: Oops (Request)

Pairing: Jensen x actress!Reader 

Pov: Jensen 

Summary: Y/n is an actress on SPN and Jensen and Y/n are dating, while she was doing a stunt she get serverly injured. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mini fight between Y/n and Jensen, Jensen have Jealousy 

Word Count: 1.4k 

Masterlist

Taglist: @akshi8278​ @deanswaywardgirl

Y/n had been casted on Supernatural. It was okay she was an amazing actress; I was just hoping that it wouldn't affect our relationship. It’s not like anyone else knew about our relationship, we had tried our hardest to keep it pretty low-key.  

We hadn’t made it official by any means, which meant I really didn’t have any right to get mad and be protective over Y/n. When Y/n and Jared were casted to be each other love interest. Y/n gave me that look that meant ‘it’s okay, we’ll get through it’ she’d been giving me that look for the past days.

It was hard seeing Jared and Y/n sit close together and go over lines. His arm slinging over her shoulder. I had distanced myself, taking in my trailer. Going over lines by myself. I heard a knock at my door, assuming it was my PA, but in came Y/n. Dressed in a pair of tight jeans, a pair of boots on, and a flannel on.  

“Jay, are you okay?” She asked before coming over and sitting down with me. I stayed looking at the dialogue realizing that I really wasn’t taking in any of the words. “Jay?” She said again. This time grabbing my hand instead, “Jay? I asked you a question.” She spoke.  

“Yeah, I’m fine. I... I just got. I was just in my head for a minute.” I said wishing that she’d take that for an answer. “Look I know that’s bullshit. You’ve been ignoring me, and Jared since you found out that I was going to be his love interest.” She spoke.  

Something that Y/n could always, catch me in my bed of sort of lies. Catch me when I wasn’t being upfront with her. “Y/n, I don’t know what to tell you okay. I’m fine. Nothing is wrong. I just giving you some space to get to know Jared. Everything is fine okay Y/n.” I said getting up and opening my trailer door.  

“Jensen?!” She spoke. We looked at each other, and then Y/n got up and walked in front of me, and finally out of the trailer. I stayed away still, not trying to convince Y/n of anything. Letting her assume rather than just tell how I was feeling.

This lasted for I'd say at least 3 days. She’d call and leave a voicemail. Text me. Everything I’d ignore. By the start of the new week, now starting to do the scenes. I had to let it all go, there were scenes with Jared I had to do. Our conversation short, and mostly everything was done in one or two shots.  

The next scene was supposed to be a difficult one for Y/n. This was her first stunt. It was like watching your child take their steps. As she talked to the director, I did stay close. The worry of her getting hurt was overpowering, I could for a few minutes ignore the way that the jealousy of Jared and Y/n being together in the show.  

Before starting Y/n wanted to talk to me. She grabbed my crossed arms and brought me to my trailer. She brought me to the tiny kitchen table. She sat down in front of me, “Jay. I know you are still upset. And no I’m trying to fight with you before I go do a stunt. I just want you to know that I care about your opinion. So I plan on talking to the writers and see if I can be casted as your love interest instead.” Y/n said before standing back up and giving me a short cheek kiss.  

She walked out and back to the “bunker”. I followed, not hot on tail. But there just in case. You ever have a gut feeling that something bad is going to happen. That’s all I could get from the minute I walked onto the set.  

I watched Y/n climb up the stairs and right to the railing of the balcony. The director called for the scene to beginning. Y/n jumped over the rail and landed the right way, but the director didn’t really like how she had landed on her feet. I could feel my brow come down a little on my face.  

‘She did perfectly fine. Actually, that was amazing, see her fall down. In my head she fell so gracefully, and in slow motion.’ I thought to myself. Y/n made it back up the stairs and to the railing, this time when the director called for the scene to start, I again saw Y/n fall in slow motion.  

But this was different as she fell, she moved her body, when she fell, she missed the couching. Hitting the hard floor, and I could barely see it. But she had bent her ankle.  

In a matter of seconds that feeling that I had to go over to see her, comfort her was there. That feeling that something was going to happen was right. It took a minute before any noise was made, I saw the director get up from his chair and then Y/n cried out.  

“Jensen, please come here!” I perked up at the sound of my name, and ran over. Y/n had her hand covering over foot. I sat down next to her, shooing a few stray people away. Giving her and I more privacy.  

“Y/n? You got to move your hand so I can look at your foot.” I said rubbing a circle into her back. “No Jensen, please don... Don't make me” She said, a few stray tears falling down her face. This was the first time I had seen Y/n cry. It was something I had planned on never seeing, something that was breaking my heart.  

“Honey, I have to. I promise I’ll be very careful.” I moved down to her foot. She shook her head and closed her eyes. I started slowly unlacing the boots and slowly pulling the boots off her boots. As I pulled her foot out of the boots, I could see how gnarly it really was.  

Y/n ankle bone poking out of her sock. ‘Shit’ I thought to myself. Waving the director over. “Please call 911. I think her foot is broken.” I said before returning my attention back to her.  “It’s okay baby. Just breathe. We have to wait for the ambulance to get here. You fell pretty hard on it, I’m thinking that you broke it.” I said unlacing the other foot and sliding that shoe off as well.  

We sat together, Y/n head resting on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jensen.” She said, I turned my head looking over at her. “Why are you saying sorry?” I asked. “I’m saying sorry. Because I just... I just need to hear you say that it’s okay.” She spoke. Starting to play with the hem of my shirt.  

“It’s okay Y/n I promise. It will be okay.” I said as I heard the sirens of the ambulance. Before the EMT’s got to her I asked her “Do you want me to come with you?” She shook her head quickly, and then the EMT’s were there, I slid out and let them figure out what they needed to do with her.  

I quickly ran to my trailer grabbing my phone, then to Y/n’s grabbing her bag and her phone. One EMT brought back a gunnery and lifting her up and gently placing her onto the gunnery. I walked out with her, climbing into the ambulance with her.  

“Thank you for grabbing my things, Jensen.” She said, “Of course I’d grab your things Y/n” She closed her eyes and smiled. Out of panic and love for her I blurted out “I love you, Y/n” A shocked expression fell over my face as the words I had just said computed into my brain. But before I could get anything out Y/n said “I love you too Jensen.” Grabbing my hand and drawing tiny circles on my knuckles with her thumb.  

I bent over and kissed her temple gently. “God, I love you, Y/n. I'm sorry I got so jealousy about you had Jared being together on the show. Just thought I was going to lose my girl.... If I'm allowed to call you that?” I spoke.  

Smiling Y/n said “It’s okay. I understand now. You can’t get rid of me that quickly, baby. And of course, I'll be your girl.” She pulled my arm down and kissed me, our lips melting together like we were made for each other.  

Completed: 02/25/2021 

[votederpycausemufins]

This one’s short but it exists at the very least. Just had a busy few days and I’m exhausted but also wanted to write. So now we have this

scattered au by @hermitcraftheadcanons and pinging @helleborusangel as always because I can :3

“Alright! That’s going to complete contraption number one! Whack a Melon!” Zedaph said after writing the name on a sign. The sheep hybrid had set up a bit of a base in a clearing of the jungle he had spawned in. When he couldn’t contact anyone, his immediate thought was he could probably rig something up with redstone to send messages.

With that idea in mind, Zed dug down to get the redstone he needed. He also got some diamonds followed by obsidian so he could get into the nether for quartz. As he was finishing that up, he ran out of melons in his inventory, so he had to farm more. With that, he started thinking about a way to make a farm, and so when he finally got some quartz, instead of working on something for communication, he just made the melon contraption.

“Now… what was I doing again?” Zedaph asked himself, taking some of the melons that came out from the contraption courtesy of the parrot he had led in there. “Ah right! Communications! Oh but I’m all out of quartz! Guess I’ll have to go back to the nether.”

He started to go back to his nether portal, but then noticed his pickaxe’s durability was low. He could use his diamond one, but with everything going on, he had left it in a chest down where he was mining. So Zed trotted back down to his mining area and started looking through the chests. But no matter where he looked, he couldn’t find it.

Reluctantly, he just made himself another iron pickaxe, making his way back up the surface and into the nether. He would get more diamonds later. He’d have plenty of time once his contraption was done.

~~~~~

Tango stared at the two pickaxes he held, one in each hand. He knows he only crafted one. He’s absolutely sure of that. He had gathered enough diamonds to make it and some armor, but he hadn’t bothered to make a second pickaxe. So where did he get it?

Tango put both of them in a chest in his small base. The entire thing was made out of stone even though he was surrounded by trees. Or at least, he had been. He had noticed it a bit after the sun suddenly appeared in the sky when he was finishing up for the night before resting. In his shock and joy at something working right, he had suddenly set some nearby wood on fire.

Thinking back, Tango couldn’t think of it happening much before, though he had spawned near a lava lake in the jungle, so his flames and fire from the lava could have gotten mixed up. Still, it was definitely worse now, but he at least had a good way to cook food whenever a stray animal came by.

He was also trying to gather two sheep or cows for breeding as he was growing wheat for bread in replacement of meat. It wasn’t the best source of food, but it was like the whole jungle had been emptied of its melons. A few oak trees were here and there for him to get apples from, but that wasn’t guaranteed.

Tango had also tried going outside the jungle for better resources, but after getting hurt, he wasn’t healing and couldn’t get far with the jungle itself letting a good number of mobs spawn. So now his only chance was to hope a zombie dropped a carrot or potato, or somehow find at least one melon seed.

~~~~~

Zedaph came back through his portal, munching on more melons. They weren’t the best food, but at least he had plenty. Since he wasn’t sure what to do for food, he had just taken any melon he saw, filling his inventory with the fruit. Maybe he could go looking for something else, like chickens or sheep or something to get for food.

Pulling his tools away, Zed started exploring more of the surrounding jungle. For the most part, there were just leaves, wood and vines, but sometimes he could spot a parrot. “Hello? Any chickens out there? I’ve got some seeds and I’ve already got a parrot. Hmm, he doesn’t have a name yet though. Maybe he’s an Andy. Oh yeah! I’ve also got wheat for any cows or sheep. I’ve just-”

Zed reached into his pockets to switch the seeds out for wheat, only to find he had just a single piece left. It was pretty odd, because he knew he had at least six when he started looking. Or was it less than that? Anyway, it was at the very least more than two when he set off. Six or three, because he had thought about making bread, right?

As Zed thought more, he didn’t really notice the fact that he was eating the last piece of wheat he had, not until it was fully gone and his hand was left empty. “What? Why, I think I’ve got a wheat stealer around here! Something really likes wheat, but it’s probably some sort of animal, so maybe I just need to find it and lead it back to my base. Yeah, that should help!”

~~~~~

Tango’s back in his mines when he finds a cave he hasn’t explored yet. Normally, he would just be cautious and explore, or even block it up with everything that was going on. But instead, it was all lit up. For a moment, he’s trying to think if he had just forgotten about the place, but then he also thought about his mysterious second pickaxe. This isn’t just his mine, at least, not anymore. Someone else was close enough that they claimed this place as well.

Immediately Tango was rushing back up to his base. Signs usually weren’t flammable enough for him to worry about, so crafting those could be helpful, and he definitely had wood to spare. He crafted up a few signs and then memorized his base’s coordinates before going back down. He wrote down that he had been there and the exact coordinates of his base.

Tango had no clue when the other hermit would return to mining, or if they were even working in that area anymore. As a precaution, he put more signs up with the same messages, but he still couldn’t help but worry they wouldn’t see the signs. Though right now, that was really his only hope if he didn’t want to be stuck in the jungle for who knows how long.

.

.

Etho was worried he wasn’t respawning anymore when all he saw was darkness. He didn’t know what was up or down or left or right. For all he knew, there was nothing. And then a comm smacked into his face.

It wasn’t his comm, he could still feel it in his pocket. He turned it on long enough to see it belonged to Bdubs. But the owner was nowhere in sight. Etho started to look around for him, but all around was just inky darkness. And then it was pain.

He had reached the part of the void that you couldn’t live in, that tore you apart. No matter how strong you were, the void could kill you, and it was killing Etho.

If it weren’t for the lack of messages of Bdubs dying, Etho would think he were stuck here. But why was his comm here if he wasn’t? As his vision was going dark, Etho had the answer. The void could kill anything, but apparently it wasn’t killing Bdubs. Who knew how far down he was at this point.

On his last hearts, Etho threw the comm down as fast as he could, hoping just maybe that extra speed would help it get to its owner. It was probably already at terminal velocity, but maybe it would work.

And then Etho died again, the void stealing the last of his health: and when he next woke up, he was in a desert, all alone. It was still early in the day at that point, but already the light sand was reflecting the heat back at him. He couldn’t even see any dead bushes for sticks, just cactus. Also lots of sand, the biome large enough that there was only desert around him as far as he could see.

Pulling out his comm, Etho was still grateful for the coordinates they gave. He was pretty far from spawn, but the desert, while hot, was mostly smooth terrain. He could go straight towards spawn with little trouble and hopefully get out of the desert before long. So, with little else to do, he startled walking.

Eventually Etho finally saw some sort of life other than cactus. Well, previous life, as it was some dead bushes which he broke for sticks. Still, it was better than nothing. But that begged the question of why there weren’t any to begin with. That likely would only happen if someone broke them.

Then Etho realized something. He died and suddenly appeared at Ren’s side. Killed and he was in the void finding Bdub’s comm. torn apart by the void, and now he was in a desert someone obviously had been. He wasn’t showing up in completely random places, he was showing up near the other hermits.

Etho stopped walking and immediately started digging at the sand with his hands. He was upset that the sticks were going to be lost when someone else probably needed them, but right now dying was actually more important. He used the sand to build up high below his feet, getting into the air, and then he jumped down, the amount of damage killing him.

As he had been falling, he made mental notes. Ren at a ravine, Bdubs in the void, someone in the desert, and now-

Etho opened his eyes and was met with Impulse’s face. He tried to breath in from shock from nearly being nose to nose with him, but instead of air, his lungs were filled with water. Etho knew he was already running out of time, so he quickly grabbed Impulse’s shoulders and shook him.

Impulse seemed to wake up a little, opening his eyes. It made Etho panic for a second as his normally brown eyes were red, and the ninja was reminded of Ren, but he wasn’t attacked. Instead, Impulse touched him, as if to make sure he was real.

As Etho’s lungs burned more, Impulse died first to drowning, which normally he wouldn’t like, but that meant neither of them were cursed. He started punching at a block, putting all his strength into it. Impulse hesitated for a moment, then joined Etho in his task.

Etho kept punching at the block until he finally died, but he did what he needed to. The cracks were large enough and Impulse still had enough time that even after Etho had died, Impulse was able to finish breaking the block. It didn’t open up to an exit, but Impulse stared at the sliver of air at the top of the space. Etho wasn’t back, but that didn’t matter. As Impulse died again, he started at the next block. That missing block might still be filled with water, but it was also hope.

[nepenthendline]

Pulling Away - Tendou

This was a commission for @dont-mind-me-imjustpassingby​ with permission to post. I hope you enjoy it! My commissions are open if you would like one too! (3.1k words)

Since the start of high school, you’ve shared your classes with Tendou - someone you would call a good friend of yours. He was different from some of the other people you’ve met: unfiltered, honest, and so, so bright. You heard around the school of some of the opinions against him, ones you never thought to be true. How could someone so kind, so supporting be a monster?

He was intriguing and you couldn’t help but want to get to know him more, and he seemed to want that too. Your first experience with him was when the teacher asked you to speak to the person next to you about a passage in the class book, and you were fascinated by his thoughts and personality. Over the next few years, you got to work with him more and hang out from time-to-time. There was never a dull moment with him, whether you were out late getting ice cream together or laying on his floor, side by side, talking about your thoughts. You trusted him; you wanted to be a big part of his life, just like he was for you. 

He had grown to have the same love for you. You were one of the first people who listened to him, who spent time with him and learned about his interests. You never seemed scared of him, or disgusted by the way he spoke or acted, or the way he looked, that he was so used to. You always gave him so much care and affection, hugging him or encouraging him during class or practice. Since he met you, he thought of you as the most caring, loving and accepting person he had ever met, and that’s exactly who you were – to everyone. He always thought of you as stray cat rescuer, saving people like him who no one else wanted to be around.  

The two of you were waiting in the long queue at the school cafeteria since Tendou said he’d treat you to a snack. It was only halfway through the day, but you were exhausted already, just wanting to get some food in you.  

“Why is this line so long?” you whined, dragging out your words and leaning your head on his shoulder. He chuckled, a wonderfully warm sound, and loosely wrapped his arm around your back.  

“It’ll go down soon, and then you’ll appreciate your food even more,” he tried to comfort you, but you sent him a glare. You were about to speak when a group of your classmates approached you, asking you a question about your next class. You quickly straightened yourself up, pulling away from Tendou and letting his arm fall back by his side. One of the guys in your class talked about some of the analysis he did as part of his homework, and you stared with wide eyes, praising him for his impressive work. You were too focused on your friends to notice the way his smile faded, and how he pulled himself further away from you. You were always so kind to everyone, friends or not – he’s noticed this over the few years that he’s known you. You never held back from complimenting others or being a friend if they needed someone to speak to or if they were alone.

At the weekend, Tendou had invited you to go shopping with him since he wanted to get some more hoodies. Of course, you quickly accepted, wanting to spend more alone time with him. You trailed through a bunch of stores as he flicked through the racks, making comments about each garment that had you giggling. He picked up some options he liked and left to try them on. A few moments later, he stepped out of the changing room and gave you a twirl.

“Whaddya think?” He asked, looking at you with a nervous smile.

“You look so good! It compliments your hair nicely,” you state with enthusiasm, giving him a thumbs up. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting to hear that from you; his cheeks started burning a little and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. ‘No, don’t get carried away,’ he thought, ‘she’s just being nice. She’s always nice. That’s just Y/N,’. It was hard enough to accept a compliment already, but it overwhelmed him a little at the possibility that people might be lying, people might just be being nice, and he’s not going to make a fool of himself on top of the comments he already gets.  

He gives you a weak smile, and a ‘thanks’, before heading back into the changing room and putting on his regular clothes. As he came out, he saw you lift your head from your phone, your expression changing from a smile to confusion.  

“Are you not trying on the others?” you asked, looking at the other 3 hoodies he brought in with him.  

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got plenty already,” he waved your question off, giving you a bright smile like always, then heading off out of the store once he put the clothes away. You two talked to an ice-cream café that was nearby since you knew he loved chocolate ice cream. He didn’t speak too much, less than usual, but you got the chance to watch him as he looked at the sky and surroundings. The warm sun radiated off his skin and hair, making him glow and glisten. His wide eyes looked so bright in the sunlight, and his soft hoodie was so inviting. Without thinking, you reached over a grabbed the edge of his sleeve, feeling the heated fabric between your fingers that brushed against the skin on his arm. This wasn’t the first time you’d done this so Tendou had gotten used to the feeling, but it still shocked him every time. You held onto his sleeve until you walked into the café, then dropped your hand as you looked over the menu board.  

“Let me guess, chocolate ice cream for you? With chocolate sauce and chocolate shavings?” You teased, looking over to him.  

He gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his chest, “how did you know?”. You let out a chuckle at his drama and replied,  

“I just know you well Satori,” you gave him a warm smile, before walking to the till to order. His mind seemed to glitch a little at your words, did you really learn to know him well? No, you came here often, of course you would remember, anyone would after that many times hearing him say his order. He took a deep breath, then moved closer to you.  

“And what can I get for your boyfriend?” The young, perky girl at the till asked, looking between you and Tendou.  

“O-oh he’s- he’s not my boyfriend,” you panicked, stuttering through your words as your cheeks burned hot. Boyfriend? You’d thought of it many times before but hearing it out loud was different. Could Tendou really be your boyfriend? As much as you wanted to play along with the idea that he was, in fact, your boyfriend, your embarrassment stopped you. What if it made him uncomfortable at the idea?  

He watched you as you defended yourself to the cashier, his eyes losing their shine that they had before. He expected you to quickly reject the possibility, but it still hurt. That was what he wanted to be, what he wanted to hear people ask, so that he could wrap you up with a grin and say confidently, ‘yes, I am her boyfriend’ and douse you in his love. He knew it would be bad for your reputation, your image to be associated with the likes of him, and he never expected you to want him in that way either, but witnessing you pull away from him was 100 times worse than his own thoughts he played in his head.

You ate your cold treat together, mostly in silence. You were still recovering from thinking of Tendou as your boyfriend, but you noticed him being oddly quiet and slower than usual, moving his ice cream around with his spoon.  

“Are you ok?” You ask, leaning over to tap his arm and tilting your head. He looked up suddenly, his face first lifeless, his cheeks were pale, and his eyes drooped. After he acknowledged your question, he pushed out a wide smile,

“Hmm? Of course! I’m fine, no need to worry,” he said in his typical joking tone, patting you on the head. He started quickly finishing his ice cream, finding a way to cover his low expression and have an excuse not to speak. You noticed though, you really did know him well, and you knew that he was holding back. It was hard to get through to him, to get him to open up though. He always built a wall around himself that not even you could get through.  

“Would you like to go walk in the park?” You asked as you both stepped out the café. His eyes widened slightly at your question, then looked towards the ground.  

“Actually, I think I’m gonna head back. I’ve gotta help Wakatoshi with some volleyball stuff. Um, see you later,” his voice broke as he talked but he tried hard to be convincing. He gave you a wave and a grin, before heading off in the opposite direction.  

You hadn’t heard from him at all over the rest of the weekend. You had messaged him once to see how things were going, but he hadn’t even read your text. You kept telling yourself that maybe he was just busy, or asleep. Maybe he really was helping the volleyball team sort some things out, but you knew this was unlikely.  

When you got back to school, you thought things would go back to normal and that as soon as you saw each other, you’d be able to talk like normal, but he didn’t even acknowledge you when you walked in. He kept his head down, fiddling with a pen.  

“H-hey Satori,” you sat next to him in your seat, leaning over a little and speaking quietly. He lifted his head towards you briefly, offering you his usual bright smile, a ‘hey’ then tucked his head back down. You were about to ask what was wrong when the teacher entered, sending students scattering to their seats. The whole time in class went without a single interaction between you and Tendou – he even asked the guy in front of him questions about the topic rather than you.  

During your lunch break, he headed off as soon as the bell rang and sat with his teammates. You watched him from across the cafeteria – he seemed like his bubbly self, although that wasn’t usually much to go by since he was a master of covering his emotions. You tried to ignore the possibility that he was avoiding you on purpose, throwing yourself into your conversation with your friends, though you couldn’t help but look over towards him every few minutes.

It continued like this for a few days; you approached him a few times each day, saying hello or asking a question about his day, but he always found some excuse not to talk to you, ending with him running off and you being alone. You just wanted to know what you did wrong, what you did to make him hate you?

If only you know how much he loved you, and how he was doing this to protect you and himself? He thought that if he distanced himself, if he tried to forget how perfect you were to him, then he wouldn’t feel so strongly towards you and mess up your friendship. The worst thing he could think of happening would be for you to reject him after he poured his heart out to you, so he removed himself before you could.  

After a week of this distance and many hours of lying awake wondering what was going on, you gave in and pulled up your phone. It read 10: 38pm; the bright light straining your eyes in the dark as you lay in bed. You pressed call under his name, and anxiously awaited as the phone dialled. You didn’t think he was going to answer, but you heard the accepting click of the line just before it went to voicemail.

“Satori? Hey,” you questioned across the phone as he hadn’t spoken.

“Hey, what’s up? It’s late you know, you should be in bed,” his tone teetered between being caring and forced.  

“I… I just wanted to talk, are you free?” You heard him shuffle around a little as he stayed silent for a few moments,

“Actually, I’m just in the middle of helping Wakatoshi with some chores so-” you cut him off,  

“I know you’re alone. Please just talk to me,” you weren’t opposed to begging at this point for him to speak to you, you just wanted to fix things. He went quiet again for a little while, then let out a sigh that rattled through the receiver.

“Ok,” you barely heard him speak.  

“Ok? Can you meet me somewhere? At the park we used to go to behind the big tree?” You rushed out before he could change his mind. He agreed and hung up, leaving the pit of anxiety in your stomach to churn.  

You quickly got ready and head out, making your way to your meeting spot. He lived closer than you did, and you saw his red hair standing out under the light of the streetlamps nearby. He was wrapped up in layers of hoodies, tucking his legs close to his chest. You sat down quietly next to him, keeping a little distance that felt so unnatural. Neither of you spoke for a little while as you settled in to being close to each other again.  

“What did I do wrong?” You asked suddenly, gazing at the side of his face. He let out a deep breath and looked back at you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” it almost sounded like a question, as if he had no idea why you were asking.  

“Then why won’t you talk to me? Why are you avoiding me like you hate me? I thought we were friends, and that we could come to each other when we had a problem,” you voice was unsteady as you spoke as your mind rattled through various emotions.  

“Nothing’s wrong, I’ve just been busy,” he hated lying to you, but he didn’t want to get into this – this was exactly what he was trying to avoid.  

“Stop lying to me! Just tell me what I did wrong? Let me fix it. Or at least tell me that we’re not friends anymore so I know,” your eyes filled with tears, shocking Tendou. He didn’t know you cared this much about your friendship, not enough to cry over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, so he pulled his head down and held it between his palms.  

‘I don’t want to be your friend,” he murmured, loud enough that you still heard. Your eyes grew wide as tears rolled down your cheeks. You were speechless, but he continued.

“I don’t want to just be someone you hang out with because I have no one else, I don’t want to just be someone you try and make happy. I want to be so much more than that,” his voice was muffled in his position, but you heard him clearly.

“What do you mean?” He shook his head at your question, looking up at the dark sky.  

“It doesn’t matter. I’m never going to be enough anyway, not that I blame you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you are more than enough.” He let out a sarcastic chuckle at your words, not believing you at all. You moved from your spot to sit in front of him and held his hands in yours. “I think you’re amazing, Satori. You’re so bright and intelligent, you always make me happy and I love how generous and caring you are. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you, Satori, you mean too much to me. I love spending time with you and talking to you. I… God…I love you.” You didn’t really think about what you said, letting your heart take over and spill your thoughts. He stared intensely at you, frozen in his spot. He went to speak but stopped himself and pulled your joined hands close to his face, resting just in front of his lips and closed his eyes.  

“I thought if I distanced myself from you I would stop having feelings for you, because I don’t want to ruin what we have, and I don’t know what I’d do if I told you and you said no. I thought I was making things better for us,” his voice cracked as he spoke quietly, keeping his eyes firmly shut.  

“You-you like me?” you asked hesitantly, watching him for a reaction. He nodded slightly and covered his whole face with your linked hands, but you pulled yours away. Instead, you lunged forward and pulled him into a tight embrace and let out a breath you had been holding. “Oh my god, I thought you hated me. I like you Satori, I really do. I have for a while I just had no idea you liked me.” You could feel him shaking slightly in your grasp, but he didn’t settle into your touch. In fact, he pulled away a little to see your face and spoke.  

“You do? You mean it? Please tell me you really mean it.” His eyes were red, and he spoke so weakly you barely heard him. You placed one hand on his cheek, cupping it and stroking his skin with your thumb.

“I mean it, I promise,” you rested your forehead against his, “I want you in my life, and I want you to be such a big part of it,” you gave him a gentle smile as you looked in his eyes. He smiled back at you, one so genuine that his eyes scrunched up and they seemed to glow. You admired him for a moment, then slowly leaned in, kissing him delicately. Your lips barely brushed against each other’s, but you felt the sparks that tingled their way through your skin. Both of you paused after pulling away, revelling in this state of bliss.  

“I guess I have some making up to do but thank you for being mine.”

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 2, Episode 3: Ice Pick

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic!Reader

Notes: okay we finally have some ✨relationship development✨ and I hope you’re as excited as I am :-)

Tag list: @that-winged-rat @trustfundparker @rainbow-unicorn69 @good-vibes-and-glitter​ @x-give-em-hell-kid-x​ @prevostsasha​  @bobo-bush

                                                       ————————

“I’m telling you, it was like a-a big...lizard or something.”

I blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the words she was saying through the buzzing of the cafeteria. Allison’s eyes widened, as if only then realizing how crazy that sounded. She quickly diverted her attention to Scott, who sat beside her, and bumped her shoulder into his.

He cleared his throat, glancing around the table and squirming nervously in his chair. “Yeah, it was weird. I didn’t get a good look at it...”

“Well, what did you see?” Stiles huffed, shifting forward in his seat to lean over the table as if that would help him hear better.

The two of them had spent almost the entire lunch period trying to explain something they encountered in Isaac’s house the other night. They honestly weren’t making much sense, but they both seemed utterly freaked out, which wasn’t helping to calm my nerves.

“I-I don’t know.” Scott shook his head with a troubled furrow of his brows. “It was fast. Really fast. It walked on the ceiling, and it was...hissing at us.”

“So there’s yet another supernatural monster in Beacon Hills. Awesome.” I slouched back into my seat, a feeling of defeat washing over me. We’d barely just come out of our troubles with Peter and Kate. The last thing we needed was a new threat to deal with already. 

“I’m not sure it’s bad, though. It just ran away when I got upstairs.” Scott tried to reason, his overactive conscience striking again. He always tried to see the good in everyone. Even a lizard monster, apparently.

“Yeah right.” Allison scoffed, picking at the food she had yet to start eating. “Who knows what it would’ve done to me if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Okay. First, we need to start by...” Stiles voice slowly trailed off as his attention locked onto something across the cafeteria.

His jaw went slack, his eyes widening in wonder. A frown pulled at my lips as I let my gaze sweep toward whatever had him so transfixed. Scott and Allison turned around in their seats to see for themselves as the entire room went silent.

There was a girl, only vaguely familiar, strutting confidently into the room. I quirked an eyebrow curiously as everyone craned their necks to watch her slow entrance. My eyes shifted to Scott, an amused chuckle bubbling in my chest as I saw that he had the same awestruck expression on his face. 

“Is that Erica?” Allison’s voice rose in surprise as she spun back around to face me, her eyes wide. 

“Didn’t she have a seizure in the middle of your gym class yesterday?” I recognized the name from this week’s rumor mill. With a closer look, I could tell that it was, in fact, Erica. Scott whipped around to glare at me and my brows rose in question. “What? It’s not like she can hear me.”

“I’m not too sure about that...” He muttered, his gaze sweeping back toward her as she grabbed an apple off a random guy’s tray and took a bite. 

She’d had a complete transformation overnight. The grey, sickly quality to her skin was gone, replaced by a healthy glow. Her dark circles had vanished and she walked with a self-assurance I’d never seen in her before. She usually did her best to remain unseen, ducking through the halls with her head down. Now, she was parading with an almost arrogant smirk on her face. 

“She’s with Derek now, isn’t she? Like Isaac?” Allison’s lips pulled into a frown as she easily put the pieces together. It was the only explanation for her extraordinary overnight changes. He must’ve turned her. 

Scott glanced at the tray of food in front of him, swallowing thickly as he avoided her prying gaze. I glanced toward Stiles, who just looked back at me with a sheepish shrug. 

“You can’t get caught in the middle of this.” Allison continued, her voice a quiet plea. “Don’t you feel what’s happening? My grandfather coming here? Derek turning Erica and Isaac? It-it’s like battle lines are being drawn.”

I chewed on my bottom lip as my eyes flickered between them. She was one hundred percent right, and it was terrifying. It was almost impossible to predict what her family was up to, since they don’t tell her anything and my visions are completely worthless. The one glaringly obvious thing, though, was that something big was coming. 

“I know.” Scott sighed, finally catching her gaze with a worried expression of his own. 

“There’s always crossfire...” Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him, silently pleading with him to take a step back. 

His jaw ticked a few times, his brows pinching as he looked down to the table again. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t just stand by. I can’t pretend to be normal.”

My lips pulled into a frown, unsure why he felt the need to interfere with every supernatural problem in Beacon Hills. For some reason, he felt personally responsible for making sure that nothing catastrophic happens around here. There were so many other people better equipped for the job. The Argents, who’ve trained for centuries to hunt anything that “hunts them” and Derek, who’s been a werewolf since birth, to name a few. 

“I don’t want you to be normal.” Allison huffed, seemingly offended that he’d assume that’s what she meant. 

She stood abruptly, taking her still full tray with her. She made it a single step before turning back with a sigh. Her eyes met Scott’s, wide and shining with so many intense emotions. It was clear that she was scared, and nervous, and even a little angry. She left just a few parting words before spinning on her heel and stalking away from us. 

“I want you to be alive.”

                                                        ———————

I let out a tired sigh, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder as I walked down the hall. It was just after the dismissal bell, and I still needed to grab my chemistry book from my locker.

I’d nearly made it all the way outside, where Stiles was waiting to drive everyone to an ice skating rink—which he apparently got the keys to by paying off our classmate, Boyd, who works there—before realizing I’d forgotten it. The date had been Scott’s idea, because, and I quote, we all spend way too much time on supernatural bullshit and haven’t done anything fun in forever.

The halls were mostly empty, since the rational portion of my classmates always book it out of here the second the bell rings. All was normal until I passed by one of the janitors closets and the door sprang open unexpectedly. I staggered back in alarm, my entire body stiffening as a hand jutted out and clasped around my bicep. 

I was swiftly hauled inside, the door slamming the second I passed through the threshold. My breath caught in my throat as I jerked my arm free and scrambled away from whoever had grabbed me. I winced as my back rammed into a wooden shelf, my chest tightening with anxiety as I glanced around the dimly lit room quickly. 

A moment later, I sighed out a long breath of relief as my eyes focused on my attacker standing a few feet away. “Fuck, Stiles. What the hell are you doing?” I gasped out, putting a hand on my chest as I tried to catch my breath.

His lips twitched into a sheepish smile, one of his eyes squinting shut as he scratched at the side of his head. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“What were you trying to do?” Of all the ways he could’ve gotten my attention, that was the most unnecessary. I crossed my arms as my heartrate slowly dropped back to normal. 

His gave me a small smile as he took a couple slow steps forward, coming to a stop once there were only a few inches left between us. One of his hands came up to push a stray clump of hair behind my ear, his honey eyes dancing around my face quickly. 

“I haven’t had a minute alone with my girlfriend in days.” He murmured lowly, his head dipping down as the hand that was now tangled in my hair guided me toward him. 

Despite being the one to initiate the kiss, he was still hesitant as we inched closer together. Our noses brushed in a feather light touch, his fingers twitching against the back of my head as if he wanted to do more but was afraid to. I leaned up to brush my lips against his just once before pulling back. 

“Well you’ve got me...so now what?” I couldn’t help but grin, my voice a low whisper as I teased him. 

It’d honestly been eating at me all week, so it was reassuring that our time apart had bothered him too. Everyone was so focused on figuring out what the hell Allison and Scott ran into at Isaac’s, that he and I hadn’t had any time to ourselves.

It was way too easy to get sucked into the supernatural world and all of it’s problems. That’s why we were all going ice skating tonight. To try our hand at being normal teenagers for once.

Stiles’ eyes darkened to that warm chocolate color I’d only ever gotten a glimpse of in these more intimate situations. His free hand slid around my waist, his palm resting against the small of my back as he pulled me into his chest. His lips brushed against mine gently and I returned the kiss immediately, leaning up into him and fisting the collar of his flannel to bring him closer. 

He quietly groaned against me when I let my tongue trail across his bottom lip. He let me in right away and our tongues explores each other’s mouths for several long seconds. My hands moved to the sides of his head, a chill rolling through me at prickle of his buzzed hair against my palms. He suddenly turned us around and took a few steps forward, slamming my back into a nearby wall. 

A surprised grunt fell past my lips, and he instantly pulled away. His eyes flickered over my face quickly, wide with alarm. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to do it that hard.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at his overreaction and let my arms wind around his neck to keep him close. “It’s okay. I kind of...liked it.”

My skin erupted with heat at my own confession. I’d always secretly enjoyed the small moments he let himself go like this. I didn’t want him to be cautious and gentle all the time. He still acted like he was afraid to break me when we were intimate, and it wasn’t helping me feel any more normal. His eyebrows rose fractionally, giving away the surprise he was trying to contain.

A slow smile pulled at his lips just before he slanted them over mine again. I arched up into him, sighing as a calming tingle washed over my skin. The feeling only intensified as our kiss became more heated, both of us moaning and gripping at each other almost frantically. It was only when my temples suddenly throbbed painfully that I realized something was wrong. 

My brows furrowed as an image flashed in my mind, too quickly to comprehend. I pulled away from Stiles with a gasp, rubbing at my forehead as the pain only increased. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” His voice rose with worry as he clasped a hand on each of my shoulders to steady me. 

I forced my eyes to stay open, hoping the vision would pass. Instead, I was overcome with the overwhelming urge to get out of the small room. Maybe if I put some distance between us, it would go away. I quickly whipped around and shoved the door open, stumbling out into the now empty hallway. I heard Stiles’ shoes on the tiled floor as he followed me out, and waved a hand in his direction dismissively. 

“I’m fine.” I wheezed out, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “It’s just...”

I made the mistake of blinking slowly, instantly succumbing to the vision once my eyes were closed again. I was still standing in the hallway, just as before, but Stiles was nowhere to be found. Come to think of it, I wasn’t even in the same hallway. I let my eyes trail over the space as I turned all the way around, finally realizing that I was by the main office. 

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sight of a man standing in front of the trophy case just down the small flight of stairs behind me. My eyes trailed down his frame slowly, a strange familiarity tugging at the back of my mind as I took in his weathered leather jacket and dirty, bare feet. My heart started racing as a feeling of complete and utter dread washed over me. 

I blinked a few times to clear my vision, jumping again when the man was no longer there. Now, standing in the same exact position, was Lydia. She was unmistakable even from the back, with her strawberry blonde hair, bright blue dress, and high heels that were definitely not school appropriate. When I moved to take a step toward her, I felt myself being pulled back into the present with a jerk.

My eyes popped open and I sat up with a start, one of my hands instantly moving to my chest as I tried to catch my breath. 

“Y/N! Oh my god. What the hell was that?” Stiles’ wide eyes bored into mine from above as he clutched my biceps and shook me gently. 

I sputtered silently for a few seconds as I got my barings, not knowing what to say. My head moved from side to side slowly as I took in my surroundings. I was back in the hallway near my locker, sitting on the floor with Stiles crouched down in front of me. 

“I have to—” I swallowed thickly, my heart still beating erratically. “I have to go find Lydia.”

Stiles huffed in annoyance, giving me a incredulous glower. “Are you kidding me right now? You can’t just pass out in the middle of the hallway and then—what are you doing?”

His wide eyes tracked my movements as I shoved myself up to my feet. Despite looking like he wanted to strangle me for mot staying put, Stiles helped steady me with the hands still wrapped around my arms. 

“Going to find Lydia.” I drawled slowly, seeing as I’d just said that, and brushed his hands away. 

My knees wobbled slightly as I made my way toward the office. I pushed through the nausea brewing in the pit of my stomach that only seemed to grow with each step. Something felt very wrong. I couldn’t place it, I just knew I needed to find Lydia as quickly as possible. 

“Y/N, just slow down for a second.” Stiles’ voice grew hard as he gripped my elbow and forced me to a stop. I sighed, a spark of annoyance igniting in my chest at the delay, and turned to face him. “Whatever the hell just happened back there was totally not okay. I mean you can’t just pass out one second and then run away from me the next and expect—”

“I think I have a good excuse.” I bit out, sounding more harsh than necessary. He pursed his lips, his shoulders stiffening, and I rolled my eyes. “Just trust me?”

After a few long moments of hesitation, he nodded slowly. With that, I turned on my heel and continued on my way, Stiles trailing behind. Less than a minute later, I staggered to a halt at the top of the staircase outside the main office.

My eyes instantly landed on Lydia, standing in the same position I’d seen her in moments ago. A strong sense of deja vu washed over me at the sight. My breathing slowed as I took a tentative step down, nervous that this was all a dream that I’d be waking up harshly from again. 

“Lydia?” My voice was a hesitant whisper as I approached her slowly. I didn’t want to startle her, but she stood impossibly still in front of the trophy case, not even flinching at the sound of her name. 

I came to a stop beside her, my eyes flickering over her profile quickly. After a few seconds of standing there and getting no response, I followed her wide-eyed stare through the glass. My breath hitched as I caught sight of the words that were engraved into one of the trophies closest to us. 

My heart plummeted into my stomach as realization washed over my like a thirty foot tidal wave. There wasn’t much to it. Just two words with captain beneath it. 

It was kind of funny, in a terrible way, that two simple words could make such intense dread fill me to my core. It was a name I’d be more than happy to never see again, but couldn’t seem to escape. 

Peter Hale.

Lydia suddenly breathed out a shaky sigh from beside me, and I let my eyes sweep back to hers. They were wide and bloodshot, filled to the brim with tears as she gave me this terrified, almost vacant look. All I could do was stare back at her, this whole weird situation only confirming my worst fear. 

Peter’s bite had done something to her. She’d been acting different ever since turning up at the edge of the preserve, she was just way too good at hiding it. I was probably the only one that noticed the subtle changes in her, but I knew there had to be something going on beneath the surface. 

Now, we just needed to figure out what.

                                                        ————————

“God, could it be any colder in here?” Lydia muttered, shivering dramatically as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. 

We’d barely made it two steps into the ice skating rink, and she was already complaining. I guess her little episode at the school hadn’t effected her all that much, and we hadn’t spoken a word of it since. Stiles and I shared a quick glance before he dropped his bookbag from his shoulder and unzipped it to pull out a random long-sleeved shirt. 

“Here.” He offered it to her and she curled her lip as if it were the most disgusting thing she’d ever seen. 

“I’m wearing blue. Orange and blue...not a good combination.” With a dramatic huff, she quickly strutted off toward the bleachers.

Stiles gaped at her back, his jaw falling slack at her words. “But it’s the colors of the Mets...”

Scott clapped a hand on his back reassuringly as he and Allison passed us by, giggling about who knows what. I rolled my eyes as Stiles huffed in offense and shoved the shirt back into his bag. We joined everyone on the stands a moment later, quickly sliding our skates on. 

About thirty minutes later, I stood against the edge of the rink, my hands propped against the wall to keep my balance. All I could do was watch in awe as Lydia skated circles around every last one of us. I was seriously wracking my brain for anything that this girl couldn’t do. She seemed to be great at everything she tried. 

She twirled around too many times to count and came out of it smiling proudly, even raising her eyebrows at me expectantly when she saw that I was staring. She skated away and my attention shifted to Allison as she practically dragged Scott across the ice, moving backward so she could keep him steady by holding his hands. 

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He’d talked a big game on the way here, saying he’d have no problem ice skating even though he’d never tried it before. The whole werewolf thing was starting to go to his head, apparently. Suddenly, a warm hand closed around mine as Stiles approached me from the side. 

“Come on.” He urged, gently pulling me away from the wall. 

My knees instantly locked up as I lost my grip on the only thing keeping me upright. It’s where I’d spent most of my time since getting onto the ice. I’d only skated a few times before, and I was absolute shit at it each time. Stiles though, in all his spazzy glory, was surprisingly well balanced. 

I let him guide me along, yelping in surprise when he unexpectedly wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me against him. My hands gripped his shoulders so I wouldn’t go tumbling onto the hard ice as he grinned down at me before planting a quick kiss on my lips. 

A relaxed smile overtook my face as I gazed up at him, completely at ease in his arms. Despite being slightly terrified of getting hurt, this was actually a super fun date. It was nice to let go for a little while and enjoy doing something utterly normal with my friends. There were no monsters, no alphas, and no psycho family members here. Just a bunch of teenagers sneaking into an ice skating rink after hours. 

After Scott flailed to the ice for what must’ve been the thirtieth time, he and Allison disappeared into a photo booth around the other side of the rink. I let Stiles pull me around in big circles, still wanting to be close to the wall just in case he bailed on me. I couldn’t help but grin as his brows furrowed in concentration and his tongue swept across his lips when he gave me pointers. 

He’d been critiquing my form, telling me to bend my knees, keep my feet straight, and so many more random things that were going in one ear and out the other. I wasn’t interested in being perfect, I just wanted to not fall on my ass. After making it all the way around for the first time successfully, I jumped into his arms, proud of myself. 

“Whoa...” He chuckled, nearly falling backward as I wrapped my arms around his neck. 

I closed the distance between us quickly, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. He instantly tilted his head to deepen the kiss, swiping his tongue along my bottom lip slowly. I eagerly let him in as his arms tightened around me, momentarily forgetting where we were until I heard the unmistakable swoosh of someone falling on the ice. 

I pulled away from Stiles and peered over his shoulder, wincing as I saw Lydia down in a low crouch. I was honestly surprised that she fell at all, considering how well she’d been doing the whole night, but didn’t think much more of it. I moved back to Stiles, who waggled his eyebrows at me with a dopy grin. I couldn’t help but giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck again to pull him back in. 

Just before my eyes fluttered closed, something strange caught my eye. I jerked back, fumbling a little as I moved Stiles to the side so that I could see Lydia fully. There, poking out of the ice just a few inches in front of her, was a single stalk of wolfsbane. It was unmistakable even from this distance, the deep purple leaves contrasting against the stark whiteness of the ice. 

“Oh my God. Are you seeing this?” I breathed, my heart skipping a beat anxiously. 

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded from beside me, one of his arms still around my waist to hold me steady. “She’s definitely not okay.”

My brows furrowed as I watched her lift a hand to brush against the plant gently. Her head cocked to the side as she inspected it closely, her eyes wide with disbelief. 

“No, not that.” I huffed in annoyance, pointing toward the wolfsbane. “That wasn’t there before, right?” 

Stiles instantly stiffened against me. I let my gaze sweep to him slowly, slightly afraid to see his reaction to my words, but his face was unreadable. His eyes were swirling with worry as they peered down into mine. He swallowed thickly and cleared his through before speaking. 

“Y/N, there’s nothing there now...” His voice was delicate, as if he were afraid that speaking any louder would make me dissolve into a complete nervous breakdown. 

My head whipped in her direction once again, my pulse jumping at the sight of her frantically wiping her hand against the ice. Her eyes widened as she peered down into it, her face dropping in terror.

Without warning, she suddenly let out a long, bloodcurdling scream. I winced at the shrill noise, my palms jerking up to cover my ears. When she didn’t stop after a few seconds, I knew I had to do something. 

I broke away from Stiles, who was staring at her as if she’d grown a second head, and shakily made my way toward her. I let myself slide down onto the ice when I was close enough, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She thrashed against me, her hands pressed firmly into the ice as she continued screaming. It almost seemed uncontrollable, like she physically couldn’t stop. 

My head jerked upward as I heard quick footsteps approaching. Scott and Allison stood at the edge of the rink, watching the scene unfold, their faces a mix of horror and curiosity. Lydia finally stopped screeching and sagged back against me, her ragged breathing reduced to harsh sobs as tears streamed freely down her face. 

My eyes widened in alarm at the sight. I’d never seen her express such intense emotion before. She always kept that mask of perfection firmly in place, never letting it slip for a second. She hadn’t even been this outwardly upset after wandering around the woods for a week. 

As if that weren’t bad enough, a realization slowly dawned on me as my eyes flickered around the ice. Just as Stiles said, there was nothing there. No wolfsbane. Not even a stray leaf. I sat back on the cool surface, letting out a heavy sigh. The nagging sense of dread that’d been slowly drifting toward the forefront of my mind was ever-present now. 

And I had a feeling it was only going to get worse from here. 

                                                        ———————

I glared down at the textbook in front of me, rubbing at my temples as I tried desperately to focus. I’d been attempting to study for hours now, and it just wasn’t working. Believe it or not, it hadn’t taken long for me and the guys to get further wrapped up in the current supernatural bullshit.

One of our classmates, Boyd, has been missing for several days. It just so happens that Isaac and Erica are equally as M.I.A., and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. Derek was still turning people, and he had a clear pattern. He was picking through the outcasts first, choosing loners who wouldn’t raise much suspicion if they just suddenly stopped coming to school.

What he didn’t count on was coach Finstock alerting the team of Boyd’s absence. After school, Stiles went to his house to check on him, while Scott was on a mission to find Derek. That left me here, all alone in my bedroom struggling to study.

I’d been trying to get ahold of Stiles for the last hour, but he hadn’t answered any of my texts. I didn’t want to be that clingy girlfriend, but I was honestly starting to get pretty worried. If Boyd was caught up in this mess, there could easily be hunters on his trail already. There’s no telling what Derek is up to, either, and that made me incredibly nervous.

Just then, something thumped against my window. I jumped at the unexpected noise, my eyes instantly darting toward it. My shoulders relaxed a moment later as I saw a familiar face, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I popped to my feet and walked across my bedroom before sliding the window open.

Scott tumbled to the hardwood floors, rubbing at his forehead with a grimace. “Why is your window closed?”

“It’s forty degrees outside.” I huffed, shoving the glass pane back down as a gust of freezing wind blew inside. “What, am I just supposed to keep it open incase you decide to crawl in?”

He rolled his eyes at me, brushing his clothes off as he quickly scrambled to his feet. I crossed my arms over my chest, quirking a curious brow in his direction.

“Stiles isn’t answering me so I need your help.”

I was about to make a snide comment about being his backup plan, when his words finally sunk all the way in. If neither of us could get ahold of him, something was probably wrong.

“When’s the last time you heard from him?” I pressed, my stomach twisting with worry.

“At school, but we’re gonna have to figure that out later.” He rushed the words out quickly, clearly anxious. “I know where Boyd is.”

“Is that really what’s important right now?” I gaped at him, honestly surprised that he would choose to pursue the Boyd issue when his best friend might be in trouble.

“He’s fine, okay? I need to stop Derek before this gets out of control.” His voice hardened as he grew impatient with my stalling, but I didn’t give a single fuck. I didn’t want to be wrapped up in this supernatural shit anyway.

“You don’t have to do anything, Scott.” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “No one’s expecting you to fix all of Beacon Hills’ problems.”

“Are you gonna help me or not?” He pressed, moving toward my bedroom door expectantly.

I let out a long sigh, not even having to consider my answer. Of course I would help him, because he’s way too strong-willed to see that one of these days he’s going to get himself seriously hurt. I gestured for him to open the door and he gave me a triumphant smile before stepping into the hallway.

About twenty minutes later, we made our way into the ice skating rink cautiously. I guess it made sense that he’d be here if he ran away. Scott wouldn’t tell me how he knew to come here, because he didn’t understand it all that well himself. He said he just knew and that it was a werewolf thing.

It didn’t take long to find him, since he was driving around the ice on a huge zamboni. It was kind of hard to see in the dimly lit rink, but it was definitely Boyd on there.

“Boyd!” Scott called, his voice echoing through the large space.

He didn’t even move an inch, just continuing to stare ahead and ignore us. Scott stepped onto the ice easily and made his way toward him. I followed suit a lot slower, my knees wobbling as I tried to stay upright. My arms flailed at my sides as I slid slowly in their direction.

“I just wanna talk. Hey, come on Boyd, please. Did Derek tell you everything? And I don’t just mean going out of control on the full moons. I mean everything.” Scott tried again, this time earning a visible sigh from our classmate.

He turned his head slowly in our direction, his face completely devoid of any recognizable emotion. “He told me about the hunters.”

“And that’s not enough for you?” I snapped, nearly falling flat on my ass as I shakily came to a stop beside Scott.

“Whatever you want, there’s other ways to get it.” He added, looking up at Boyd earnestly.

I admired the way that he cared for everyone, even if he didn’t know them well. I’d only seen him talk to Boyd a handful of times all year and yet, here he was, going out of his way just to try and change his mind. It was a bit misguided at times, but still admirable.

“I just want to not eat lunch alone every day.” Boyd’s voice dropped sadly, his frustration at being a loner clear. My heart went out to him, it’s hard to make friends in high school, but that doesn’t mean you take a crazy persons offer to turn you into a werewolf.

“If you’re looking for friends, you can do a lot better than Derek.” Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes at the idea of anyone being friends with him.

“That really hurts, Scott.” Both of our heads whipped toward the entrance of the rink at the sound of a deep voice. My eyes flickered over Derek, Isaac, and Erica as they all stood in a line several feet away. It was honestly impressive that the three of them managed to get all the way here undetected. “I mean, if you’re going to review me, at least take a consensus. Erica, hows life been since we met?”

She hummed lowly, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips as she twirled a strand of long blonde hair around her pointer finger. “In a word...transformative.”

I almost snorted at the accuracy of that word, but my amusement was quickly cut short as she barred her sharpened teeth and growled our way. My eyes widened, shocked at the level of control she already had. It took weeks for Scott to learn how to shift only certain parts of his body, so Derek must be focusing heavily on training them.

That wasn’t a good thing.

“Isaac?” His head cocked to the side arrogantly as he addressed the other beta behind him.

“Well. I’m a little bummed about being a fugitive, but other than that, I’m great.” He tilted his head back nonchalantly, his tone dripping with boredom.

“Wait, hold on.” Scott clenched his jaw and grabbed one of my hands before pulling me behind him. My legs wobbled as I slid across the ice and I gripped his arm for stability. “This isn’t exactly a fair fight.”

“Then go home, Scott.” Derek drawled before jerking his head toward Isaac and Erica.

They both instantly shifted, snarling and growling like wild animals. My heart jumped in my chest and I moved further behind Scott instinctively. I honestly forgot how terrifying newly turned werewolves can be. They had this unhinged energy, like they’d rip a thousand people apart without even batting an eye.

Scott suddenly dropped my hand and gripped my hip instead. I barely had time to glance at him in question before he was forcefully shoving me away from him. I instantly lost my footing at the unexpected move and flailed down onto the ice. Every muscle in my body stiffened as I continued sliding for several feet, only stopping once I slammed against the outer wall of the rink.

All the air rushed from my lungs in a huff at the harsh impact. I blinked a few times to clear my head and shoved my hair out of my eyes just in time to see Scott smash a fist into the ice. My jaw dropped as it easily shattered beneath his fingers. I knew he was strong, but damn was that impressive. It had to be at least a foot thick.

When his head jerked upward a moment later, he was completely shifted into his werewolf form. “I meant fair for them.” His voice was thick and guttural as he forced the words out through a tightly clenched jaw.

He roared loudly, the whole building rattling from the sheer volume of it, as Isaac and Erica came barreling toward him. He easily picked Isaac up by the lapels of his leather jacket and threw him clear across the rink like a ragdoll. I couldn’t help but wince as he hit the plexiglass barrier harshly, but it didn’t faze him in the slightest as he popped right back to his feet.

Erica came at Scott’s back, but he whirled around before she could land a hit, slamming her into the now parked Zamboni that Boyd was still sitting on. Isaac growled before sprinting forward, managing to shove him up against the large vehicle.

He was only caught off guard for a split second, but that was enough time for Isaac to throw him over his shoulder, sending him a few feet in the air. Erica pounced on him the second he hit the ice, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly.

He easily shook her off by slamming her back into the Zamboni, landing a bone-crushing punch to Isaac’s stomach. He lurched forward with a grunt and Scott smashed his elbow down onto his back, making him fall to the ice in a crumpled heap.

I staggered to my feet as both Erica and Isaac laid there for several seconds, motionless. It looked like Scott was quickly losing control of his anger, and I didn’t want him to do something he might regret. Fighting them off was one thing, but situations like this could go south in the blink of an eye if he didn’t reel himself in soon. 

I only made it one shaky step before a hand clasped around my bicep, stopping me in my tracks. My head jerked to the side to see Derek’s disapproving face only inches away. I pulled against him aimlessly, knowing that I wouldn’t be moving an inch as long as he didn’t want me going anywhere. 

“Let go.” I hissed, my eyes narrowing into a harsh glare. 

He quirked a brow, seemingly amused that I’d try and stand up to him. “Yeah, can’t do that.”

At the sound of a pained groan I twisted back toward the fight, just in time to see Scott kick Isaac in the face as he struggled to get to his feet. My eyes widened as he whipped around and threw Erica down onto the ice harshly. 

I tugged at my arm again, needing to stop him before things got even uglier. When Derek’s grip only tightened, I faced him and shoved back against his chest harshly. “He’s going to kill them!”

His eyes swept across the rink before slowing making their way back to me. He lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug and I gaped at him, shocked at his lack of compassion. He didn’t even give a shit that the two people he turned into werewolves were getting their asses handed to them.

“God, is being a huge asshole part of becoming an alpha?” I snapped, finally managing to pull myself free. I staggered back a few steps, not expecting him to actually let me go, nearly falling down in the process. “What are you even trying to do?”

He made no move to respond, his lips twitching up into a slow smirk as his gaze flickered over my shoulder. I slid myself around to see that Scott was standing over Erica and Isaac’s unconscious bodies, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. 

“Don’t you get it?” His voice echoed off the walls as it rose angrily. “He’s not doing this for you. He’s just adding to his own power, okay? It’s all about him. He makes you feel like he’s given you this gift, when all he’s done is turn you into a bunch of guard dogs!”

He suddenly slammed a hand down onto Isaac’s back and slid him across the ice toward us. He stopped right at Derek’s feet, just before Scott did the same Erica. He rose to his full height slowly, narrowing his eyes into a hard glare. 

“It’s true. It is about power.” Derek stalked forward slowly, jerking his hand down to his side to reveal his sharpened claws. 

His head snapped in all directions as he transformed, his eyes flashing bright red as he stopped only a foot away from Scott and snarled. Without warning, he headbutted him harshly, sending him stumbling back a step. He took the opportunity to slash his claws against Scott’s stomach and I gasped, instantly covering my mouth to stifle the sound. 

My heart lurched in my chest, panic surging through me as Derek landed blow after incapacitating blow. Scott was too weakened by the fight with Isaac and Erica to do anything about it, which I now could see was what Derek wanted the whole time.

A painful realization washed over me just then, as Scott fell to his knees. All I could do was watch as one of my best friends was beaten to a pulp right in front of me. I was utterly useless. Not only did I not have any heightened senses or reflexes, but I wouldn’t even know how to use a weapon if I had one. 

Within seconds Scott was laying flat on the ice, clutching at Derek’s leg as it crushed his airway. He coughed and sputtered as Derek finally moved off of him a second later, not even gracing him with any parting words before walking away as if nothing had happened. I instantly started sprinting as best I could, falling onto my knees at Scott’s side a moment later. 

My eyes widened as I took in his battered state. Blood was spilling from the sides of his mouth, and the gashes in his stomach were clearly visible through the tears in his shirt. I didn’t know how fast his healing was supposed to work, but it didn’t look like it was getting better at all.

I saw movement in my peripheral and turned to see Boyd walking toward us cautiously. 

“Don’t.” Scott coughed out another few drops of blood and tried to sit up, only stopping once I put a firm hand on his chest. He wasn’t in any kind of shape to be moving at all. “You don’t want to be like them.”

“You’re right.” Boyd nodded, slowly lifting his shirt to reveal an almost completely healed bite mark above his hip. My stomach twisted anxiously at the sight. We were too late and this dumb fighting was all for nothing. “I wanna be like you.”

With that, he turned to join the others as they made their way toward the exit. My head jerked back to Scott as he let out a series of pained grunts. His eyes caught mine, shining with worry, as his head fell back against the ice. I could only assume we were both thinking the same thing. 

We were so beyond screwed. 

Episode 2

[lethargicsunlight]

'Demon' Chapter 3 : For The Mission Bakugou x Fem!Reader (book 1)

Hello~

First of all, Thank you for reading!

You can also read this chapter and the previous ones here on my AO3.

Or, you can find the previous chapter here.

I will come up with a better linking system soon, but I gotta get back to work real quick :(

WARNINGS: Injury, bodily fluids, angst, SFW

Please enjoy!

👹🖤⛓🔪💣

You knew running was a losing game, as speedy as you could be. He was saving his energy by using his mutation quirk for movement.

You pull loose a throwing knife from the holster on your side, keeping the blade bared outward to defend yourself as you take in your blurring surroundings. You make a turn, decidedly veering away from the direction of the bar you'd just left; the last thing you needed was for your pursuer to call in reinforcements that could teleport.

Despite sliding through sharp turns, you couldn't manage to get far enough ahead to fake him out. With the tough exoskeleton they possessed, he was easily driving his extra limbs into the walls and using them as leverage to fling himself forward--closing in on you much faster than you wanted.

"What is it little Demon?" He screeches, mandibles scratching and gnawing together as his mouth stretches open. "I thought you would be a much more riveting opponent than this!"

...Sometimes, you gotta give them what they want.

Mid-run, you locate a window going into an abandoned office building. Throwing your knife, it punctures the glass and leaves hair-line fractures across the surface--you can see the reflection of Sting's eyes within the shards as you thrust your weight into the opening.

In a circular motion, you manage to unsheathe one of the longer blades at your back and parry  his limbs in the air before you're tumbling over the broken glass. It hurts, but you don't allow yourself to slow down. You roll back up, unsheathing the second blade with your free-hand as you crouch, ready to strike.

Now you at least had one advantage over him. More cover.

"Heh," he seems to hesitate, finally setting his body back upon solid ground as he evaluates you. His gaze is filled with confidence after watching you run away from him. Like prey.  In his pause, you have a few seconds to analyze his structure. The exoskeleton would to be too hard to cut, so your focus had to be the areas you could see flesh exposed. You were aware the legs could retreat into his back, which guaranteed a lack of access there. All you could see was his face and his hands--though peaking out from beneath a tucked scarf, was the smooth skin of a throat.

You had made an oath long ago that you would never kill again. But in defense of your mission... you could manage an exception. It would all be over soon anyway.

Instead of coming at you straight on, he throws another knife at you to get everything back into motion. It has you leaping backwards unto a filing cabinet--and he's charging at you finally with the ferocity of essentially four swords. Due to his extra limbs' reach, you realize you won't get a hit on him this way.

It becomes a tangle of blades as you parry and block and twist around his advances, kicking up papers and folders to distract him as you move up and down over obstacles. The venom in your arm begins to dance through your veins, tingling beneath the skin--you are running out of time.

You can see his face twist into a smile; he's sure he's going to win.

Good.

As he makes the mistake you were waiting for, drawing one of his limbs back for a final attack; his mouth is open to announce his triumph. As the air begins to leave his lungs and form syllables in his mouth, time slows down for you. Your blade held up to parry drops from your hand, sending his stinger forward to scrap across your shoulder; close but not too close to your neck. You grab the knife on his belt that you had been eyeing since his first advance in the alleyway, and slice through the joint.

It brings him to a halt, howling as he moves backwards. Green ichor sprays across your face and drips from his new amputation, his other three limbs curling around his body while his hands grope his shoulders.

You pocket his knife and retrieve your blade from the floor.

"Noo! Nonono..!" He's wailing--it sounds grief-stricken now. While there were questionable 'doctors' among villain society; no one has the ability to bring back a limb. Especially one like that. You had mired him, for the rest of his life.

You prepare for a death blow--but the flash of skin beneath the fabric of his shirt causes your hesitation.

You don't have to kill him. It's relief that floods through your tense and calculating mind; briefly before being replaced with pain. As you had expected, a minute in and his neurotoxic venom has seeped into the muscles of your arm. It feels like a chemical burn--acid turning flesh to sizzling nothing. The arm goes limp, but you force your grip on the blade--you had to appear stable.

"I'm going--I'm going to kill you!" He screeches, and there's a squeal behind it like the voice of the insect part of him was a separate entity.

"...You can't kill me." You say slowly, approaching with your good arm raised. You swallow, then let your voice drop an octave as fear seeps into his eyes. There's a button you managed to press a moment ago, that makes the eyes glow from your mask. A cerulean color--a color that was a remnant of your past. "I'm not human."

From the look on his face--he believes you. Your charade is working. You grit your teeth, forcing your shaking and screaming arm to lift and move to the back of your head. It's a movement that suggests you'll remove your mask.

"N-No, no!" He shifts back again, and unaware of his surroundings he trips and lands among the broken glass. His remaining extra limbs curl in close to his face, leaving his abdomen bare. "You're lying! You can't steal people's souls, you're just--you're like us!"

"Then why are you hiding your face?"

"Wh--" With the distraction of speech, he doesn't block when you throw the hidden blade from your hood down into his abdomen. It's a solemn thwack, and then the harsher crack of his skull when you flip the blade in your good hand and swing it between his stinging limbs to ram into his bare temple.

He's out. He's internally bleeding, and he'll never be the same... but he'll live. Maybe when he wakes, he'll have a different outlook on life. Or, most likely, he'll want to hunt you down.

You suppose that should scare you. But given the note you had received from the hero agency you worked with, your time was going to end anyway. He wouldn't have a chance.

"Hrk--" You crumple to the ground, clutching the arm that felt like it should be bare bone rather than flesh. It's like the nerves are exposed; the grip from your clothed hand sending shockwaves down your spine.

You couldn't help but brood--seeing as how moving was so difficult--at how opposite this situation had been compared to what it seemed.

While you had delivered a blow based on skill--you won the fight by lying. Like an illusion, you'd expertly hidden behind the smoke and mirrors to make him believe you were bigger than you actually were. Like you had won easily, rather than by the skin of your teeth.

You wheeze, tears pricking at your eyes while you force yourself to rise. You needed to get back to base. Especially before he did, and preferably before anyone decides to investigate the noises of your chase earlier.

You stumble out of the building through the window you had broken, and slowly creep through the alleys of Yokohama once again.

---

Every television in the base was alight with the bright colors of the Sports Festival.

You were pretty sure that H.H. kept cameras within those screens, ever watching the faces of his lackeys and agents--judging their actions and expressions. Another advantage to always wearing a mask.

You stood, back pressed to a wall in the shadow of a corner as you side-eye the screen. Watching the students filter out unto the field causes a bitter-sweet fluttering in your stomach.

You remembered the first time you had watched the event. You were much younger, sitting with your knees pressing into the floor and palms crushing a few stray sheets of paper. Really, you had never been all that interested in television, mostly because the other kids at the foster-care center were rambunctious when they sat in front of it.

But this time, the only two souls whose eyes were glued to the flat surface were yours and your new foster brother's, who had been the one to convince you to watch it in the first place.

"You gotta watch it--I'm gunna be on it one day!" He says, arm extending to offer his hand. You stare at it, bug-eyed.

"Oh," you meagerly utter, taking his hand and letting him lead you. He laughs and pulls you along until your both sitting in the living-room floor.

"Don't worry," he leans in towards you, "I'll keep the volume low. Trust me though, kay? You gotta watch it, it's really fun!"

You don't believe him, but before long you're both cheering with the crowd and talking avidly about your favorite contestants. He--

You draw yourself out of the memory as large letters appear in your peripheral. The first game had been announced. A race.

There was a sinking feeling in your chest to know that he should have been there amongst them, maybe a year ago. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that he would have won. Maybe even every challenge.

Even at that young of an age, he had always been so full of righteous fire.

He could have been a hero of heroes...

If not for you.

----

You catch pieces of the Sports festival as you move through the base in search of an old 'escape plan' map. Head Honcho had certainly made modifications since the water-treatment plant had been adopted as his new lair, but you could draw them out if only you had a layout of the place.

Chemical spills did happen, so you could only hope that the escape plans had been forgotten when everything was moving in. In a storage closet somewhere, on the door of an outlet box, above the water control panel--somewhere.

Moving through an old lounge, large screens portrayed the ongoing of the race that had long-since started above the heads of a few agents. They were newer, but they noticed you when you walked in.

The looks in the eyes of those whose faces were exposed was that of mixed admiration and loathing. But, fortunately for you--Head Honcho had made it very clear that you were to be left alone. Treated as exalted, as though separate from everyone else on a holy level. Not that they worshipped you--but that he wanted you to be considered the entity you played as. A demon.

The rumor was as much to his advantage as it was yours.

Their eyes follow you in the dark as you move around them, but something suddenly has their eyes whipping back to the screen as the closer viewers make noises of surprise. You decide to look too, selfishly; and you're rewarded with something familiar.

A freckled green-haired boy. He's flying through the air after a massive explosion, rivaling the two that had been effortlessly charging towards the finish from the beginning. The three of them are suddenly close together, faces etched in the effort to win--and you find yourself openly admiring them.

Beneath your mask, you're smiling. Your heart is pounding and you want to cheer like old times, throwing popcorn in the air and rejoicing--no matter who won. You could practically feel your foster brother's spirit next to you, tugging on your heart. You should be there, enjoying this. You hear him say.

Your breath catches in your throat as there's another explosion--Midoriya had managed to throw the bit of metal he'd carried with him all this way and use another surge of momentum to carry him forward. Everything stills as you wait, holding that breath until finally--finally--it is him that enters the arena in first place.

Adrenaline explodes and rockets around your ribs and your heart--but you're still. You mouth the word 'yes', but didn't dare utter a syllable. Controlling yourself, you make for the exit of the room, intent now more than ever to carry out your mission. To help ensure the safety of those three boys that fought so hard to be recognized as heroes.

For those three boys that reminded you so much of him.

[fireladybuckley]

You Set My Heart on Fire (Part 4)

or: The 5 times Buck tries to hide that he’s in love with his best friend and the 1 time it all comes out.

Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Buddie - Evan Buckley (Buck) x Eddie Diaz Word Count: Part 4: 1632 Summary:  Buck struggles with his realization that he’s in love with his best friend, constantly getting flustered, turned on, or full on heart-eyes around Eddie, until it all eventually comes crashing down in the best way.

Chapter 4 summary: Stuck on a treadmill while Eddie lifts weights nearby nearby, Buck tries to pace himself and ends up failing miserably.

Read it on Ao3

Read Part 1: here Read Part 2: here Read Part 3: here Read Part 5: here Read Part 6: here

Beta’d by the absolutely amazing @firemedicdiaz​ <3

                Chapter 4:  Buck Tries to Literally Outrun His Problem          

            The fourth time it happened, Buck tried so hard to hide it that he nearly passed out.

            Maddie had gotten him a smart watch for his birthday and he’d been dying to try out the fitness features.   So that day at work he strapped it on, fiddled with the options, and hopped onto the treadmill to test it.

             The watch let out a small beep every time his heart beat to keep track of his pulse, and Buck settled into a nice easy jog, listening to the steady beeps and slowly increasing his speed, interested to see how much his heart rate elevated based on how much effort he put into his stride.

             Buck had escalated to a light run when he glanced up and noticed that Eddie had entered the workout area and was setting the weight on one of the chest press machines.  Buck groaned internally as he watched Eddie pull off his hoodie and sit down in a black tank top on the machine.   Eddie looked up, and upon seeing Buck glancing over at him, gave a little smile and wave, which Buck returned, swearing profusely under his breath.  Buck looked away as his watch started to beep faster, despite the fact that he wasn’t running any faster, and tried to control his breathing.

             Buck resolved to not look at Eddie, to just focus on his own workout, but once Eddie started using the machine and there was the regular thunking sound of the weights lifting up and down, occasionally accompanied by Eddie’s grunts of effort, Buck couldn’t help but let his eyes stray in Eddie’s direction.  This was definitely a mistake;  the second Buck laid eyes on Eddie his heart rate quickened, and Buck heard the beeps increasing in response.  

             To explain away the rise in his heart rate, Buck began to run a bit faster.  Unfortunately, his eyes kept wandering back to Eddie, even though he kept trying to look away.  After a moment he gave up trying to resist and watched Eddie as he ran.  Eddie’s face was a mask of concentration and Buck bit his lip as he watched Eddie’s arms strain as he pulled on the machine, raising the considerable weight behind him.  

             Buck’s heart rate increased again so he increased his speed to match, still at a comfortable pace as his eyes travelled up Eddie’s arms to his sweaty face and back again, watching his muscles tighten and relax as he moved.  It was incredibly sexy, both from a visual perspective and also Buck was incredibly turned on by just how strong Eddie was as he watched the stack of weights rise and lower over and over.  After a while, Eddie stopped his reps on that particular machine and Buck looked away quickly as Eddie stood, not wanting to be caught watching him.

             Buck shot a sideways glance over at Eddie after a few moments and saw that he’d gone to the bench press and was attaching the weights to it.  Buck grabbed his water bottle and tried to take a sip as he ran, dribbling some of it down his front and glad that Eddie hadn’t seen as he reached up to wipe his chin.  By the time he glanced back, Eddie had settled himself on the bench and began slowly lowering the bar to his chest.  Buck watched, captivated, feeling lust shoot through him once more as his heart rate elevated again.

             Cursing under his breath and praying Eddie wasn’t noticing these constant increases in his heart rate, Buck forced himself to look away and began to run faster.  The cycle continued for several more minutes;  Buck found the willpower to look away, sped up his run,and then his willpower crumbled and he looked over at Eddie again, which inevitably lead to another increase in his heart rate as he took in just how attracted he was to Eddie and it pounded through his brain like his feet were pounding the treadmill.

             Eventually, Buck was running at nearly full tilt and his watch was beeping so fast he couldn’t keep track anymore.  He had finally stopped looking over at Eddie, forced to concentrate to be able to maintain his speed.  His feet slammed into the treadmill belt over and over, and he was quickly starting to tire, running out of breath, sweat pouring down his face as he attempted to keep pace with his racing heart.  He didn’t know how he was going to get out of this one;  he could slow down and stop, but Eddie might notice that his heart rate was faster than it should be.  But on the other hand, if Buck kept this sprint up, he was not going to last much longer and he’d be eating floor when he lost traction and fell.

             “Buck!  Slow down!”

             Buck looked around to see that Eddie had sat up on the bench and was looking over at him in concern, clearly having noticed that he was running like his life depended on it.  When Buck didn’t respond, Eddie got up and walked over to him, shaking his head.

             “Are you going for a record or something, man?  You need to slow down, your heart rate is way too fast.”

             Eddie gestured to the watch beeping on Buck’s wrist and Buck kept on running, trying not to concede defeat, but knowing that he had no choice but to slow down.  As embarrassing as this could be, it would be worse to go flying off the treadmill because he couldn’t keep the pace anymore.   Nodding because he was unable to speak through his ragged breath, Buck hit the buttons on the treadmill to slow himself down, first into a slower run, then a jog, then a walk.  

             Finally he came to a stop and shakily stepped off of the treadmill, holding tightly onto the bar beside it as his chest heaved, his legs like jelly.  Eddie grabbed his water bottle and handed it to him, and Buck gratefully shot some into his mouth, still breathing hard and holding himself up.   Eddie watched him closely as he tried to catch his breath, the beeps from his watch filling the silence around them.   Buck reached down and pried the buckle of the watch open - difficult to do with shaking hands - and stuffed the finally quiet watch into his shorts pocket.

             “You okay?” Eddie asked, his tone cautious as he watched Buck’s face closely.  “You were running pretty damn fast.”

             “Yeah, just… wanted to push myself,” Buck gasped, still holding onto the treadmill railing for balance as his heart thumped uncomfortably fast in his chest, still breathless.  It was mostly because of the running, but Eddie standing so close to him was not helping.

             “Well, your heart rate was too high, you should sit down.”

             “Oh, I think that th-thing’s broken,” Buck said, attempting to sound casual, before remembering that Eddie knew he’d just gotten it as a gift and it was brand new.

             “Uh huh.  Let me be the judge of that,” Eddie responded in a slightly sarcastic tone.  Before Buck could react, Eddie had grabbed Buck’s forearm in one of his hands and settled two fingers over Buck’s radial pulse point.  Buck immediately panicked internally, both because he knew Eddie was on to him and also because the feeling of Eddie’s hands on his skin was driving him mad.   But Eddie was gripping his forearm tightly enough that Buck would have to wrench himself hard to get away, and he’d already flinched away from Eddie several times in the last week or two;  he didn’t want to give Eddie the wrong impression, like he didn’t want to be touched.   He and Eddie had never been weird about casual touches, and he didn’t want to ruin that now.

             “It’s still pretty fast,” Eddie murmured, his voice low as he focused on counting the beats below his fingers, glancing at his watch.  Buck swallowed hard and thought “I wonder why that is?”, looking away from Eddie’s face, wishing he could sink into a hole, unable to control his racing heart.

             “That's it, I’ve decided.  Enough running for you today.  You need to have some lunch.”

             Eddie’s voice was authoritative and Buck nodded, obeying without a second thought as Eddie gestured for him to move out of the workout area and pointed at the stairs.  Buck obediently moved over to the stairs, figuring it was just best to do what he was told.  He was still feeling a bit shaky from how fast he’d been running and he didn’t trust himself to take off to the showers alone just yet.  Buck followed Eddie up the stairs and flopped down in a chair as Eddie told him to sit, watching as Eddie moved over to the fridge and pulled out some leftovers for them to eat.

             Buck’s heart skipped several beats as a smiling Eddie brought him a plate of food and set it down in front of him.  Buck did his best to eat his food as he tried not to look too closely into Eddie’s eyes, fearing he might get lost forever and make the confession that was always just on the tip of his tongue.  They spent the next twenty minutes or so in what appeared to be amiable, general conversation, but in actuality was Buck falling more deeply in love with Eddie with every syllable the other man spoke.  By the time a call came in and they were forced to abandon their nearly empty plates, Buck was feeling light-headed with that wonderful, floaty feeling of falling in love for the first time, and couldn’t stop himself smiling all the way to the call, despite the looks everyone kept shooting him, wondering what he was so damn happy about.

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