#the way we are both lanky n gangly

[triplesilverstar]

Noodle arms

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: teasing, mentions of periods

Word count: 2.5K 

A/N: Luida gave you a small present and you can't wait to tease a certain well built blond with said present. Sucks to be Vash right now.

I wrote part of this ages ago and I still love it. So I hope you all enjoy it too.

Wandering the ship and glancing at the object Luida had given you just a scant few minutes ago, you feel like you’re moving on auto-pilot, Meryl calls out to you and you don’t even notice. A sappy grin paints your features every time you glance down at the item as you head back to your shared room after finishing in the infirmary with Luida.  

“What’s with that stupid look on her face?” slips from Meryl as she lowers her hand, eyes a little downcast. 

“That” Roberto straightens “is the look of a fool in love, who just found dirt on their lover.” He’s been annoyed since they ended up on this ship, even unlit cigarettes are removed from his mouth, and he’s got a craving eating at the back of his skull, still looking for a smoking area. Resulting in Meryl just sighing. 

“Guess we won’t see much of those two for the rest of today then.” 

Still strolling along you’re obvious to the conversation about yourself, too focused on the photo and getting to a door you share with a certain blond. Knocking you wait, hearing Vash call out a “soft come in” before pressing the mechanism to open it, not wanting to burst in if Brad was still there. 

Not seeing the older man you launch into your speech with a sickly sweet voice. “Vash, my Sunshine” Your cheeks are starting to hurt from the shit-eating grin you’ve been sporting since you saw the photo. “Love of my life, my better half, the star that lights up my nightsk-”

“What did you do?” Sitting at the little table his eyes are pinched closed, the edges of his lips downturned, tone exasperated. Two fingers rubbing his nose no doubt trying to understand why you knocked before entering your own room. 

 “Nothing. This time” you sweep towards him and drop in his lap, an arm slung around his shoulders, voice full of glee “Do you recognize this?” His hand has landed on your hip, trying to keep you steady as his eyes open to look at whatever you’re showing him. His blue eyes widen in shock and your grin grows even larger.

“Where’d you get that!” He’s swiping madly, any plan of keeping you steady in his lap gone, trying to grab the item from you as you lean away the fingers of one hand gripping his shoulder, holding your prize just out of his reach. You have to assume Brad is away and back to working on the repairs to his arm away in the workshop. With that, you have an advantage and you have no qualms about using it seeing as Vash is down an arm at the moment. 

“So it is you!” cackling you wave the object enticingly, glancing at it once again before back to him, his face one of concentration trying to stretch his fingers just a little more. “Here I thought kid Vash was the peak of adorable, and then today I see this!” 

“Mayfly, please” voice pleading and his nose is burning, a flush right up from what you can see of his neck to the tips of his ears. It’s not his usual ‘I’m embarrassed please take pity on me’ pink either, it’s a stark crimson on his pale face and it has your grin growing even larger.  

“Why are you embarrassed?! You were such a cute lanky beanpole!” The object in question is a photo, one of him, laughing as a teenager with a younger Brad both of them working on something and it reminds you how close they are regardless as to how Brad complains about Vash. “I mean those scrawny arms, you were all gangly limbs!” You’re leaning as far away as possible, back partially pressed against the table trying to keep the photo away from him. 

Your laughter is starting to get the better of you, leaving you breathless, and you miss the way his eyes widen as an idea forms. His hand slides under your back and he’s pushing you up onto the table and pinning your upper body with his hips, allowing his free hand to snag the photo and toss it to the ground on the other side of the table. Well out of the reach of your scrambling fingers trying to catch it as it flutters by. 

You try to escape him, only to find yourself lifted up by his one hand and planted squarely in his lap, this time straddling his hips facing him, his arm now wrapped around your middle and locking you in place. “Come on Vash, I was teasing. You really were a cute teenager.” Chest still heaving from all your laughter, hands on his shoulders as you try to catch your breath. 

Leaning forward you press your forehead to his, still smiling “Sometimes I miss the cranky bounty hunter who tied me up and gagged me.” The grin on his face tells you he’s teasing right back. “It’s not fair, I never get to tease you about what you looked like growing up.” 

“Nope” you pop the P, a grin splitting your face “and you’ll never see it.” Your hands are resting on the sides of his neck now, thumbs caressing lines up and down. “Will you let me keep the photo?” voice soft as you ask your question, eyes closed, listening to his breathing now that you’ve calmed down from your laughter. 

“Why do you find it so funny?” A hint of annoyance at you is still coloring his words, causing a few final giggles to pass your lips, his eyes crinkled every so lightly showing his displeasure. 

“I don’t find it amusing” Being honest with yourself you pull back a little to watch his face “Honestly, it just makes me happy looking at it. And it makes me think of things I thought I'd long given up on.” Being with Vash has had that effect on you, made you realize you were just surviving waiting for the end to come, tired of being alone and running. 

Vash brought back that spark, from trying to catch him and failing so many different ways. Then being friends, and that tiny spark inside you grew into a flame, filling the void that anger had eaten away, you wanted to live, and he showed you that you hadn’t been. “I know, we haven’t really been together that long.” He chuckles at that, making you shake a little in his lap. 

“Only what almost a century to find one another, I guess we have been together a short time by comparison” snorting you swat at him. The last few weeks had been draining on the two of you, but that nagging thought in the back of your mind was slowly making you wish for more. More than just wandering, more than just stealing moments with one another when you were hidden out of sight. 

“But I want to grow old with you, you big dork. Or at least whatever version we’ll have of getting old” voice growing softer “and biology willing, maybe have a kid or two.” You don’t know if he can hear your heartbeat thundering in your chest, but your own admission scares you. 

“I thought you couldn’t have kids?” His own question is soft, hand now rubbing soft circles up and down your side. 

“I said it was highly unlikely. I still have a cycle. It’s just, like once a year instead of once a month.” Silent, your hands have stopped moving, and you slide them down along his chest, and finally let them drop into your lap. “After our talk a few weeks ago by the fire, it’s been eating at me. So I asked Luida if it was possible.” Licking your lips as you look into those bright blue eyes, glad his sunglasses are perched atop his head instead of his nose. “I know I should have asked you since it involves both of us, but.” 

The stress from the last few days is catching up to you, making you aware of the things you’ve been pushing to the side. Watching him you can see the way he’s hanging on to your words like it’s a lifeline for him, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “From a genetic level, we’re compatible. If we ever want to think about it in the future, and we should probably be a little more careful in the present.” 

Vash is taking both of your hands in his own as you finish speaking, looking down at the differences as he interlocks the fingers of one with his longer digits. “I’ve honestly never thought that far ahead. Just trying to keep moving forward to try and fix what damage my brother and I caused during the fall.” You can see the liquid pooling along his lashes, for the first time in a few weeks not hidden behind his sunglasses or the false smiles for others on his face, you watch his eyes growing glassy. “But the idea of growing old with you does sound pretty nice.” One of his rare real smiles is breaking out on his face, soft and vulnerable, he’s looking at you like you’re offering him the world and not a dream. “Knowing that maybe someday we can have a little one of our own is making my heart beat like we’re running for our lives.” 

Laughing you have to agree feeling your own heart starting to beat a ile a minute. “So, we stop your brother from whatever plan he told you about long ago, whatever it is, and hopefully find a way to convince people to stop using the plants so much and let Luida’s plan for terraforming the planet take hold. Then we’ll pick a spot in the middle of nowhere, and stake out a claim. And grow our version of old together.” He’s grinning in response to your words now, disentangling his fingers to playfully swat at you, a few tears slipping past his eyes which you find yourself wiping away.

Leaning forward and pressing his forehead to your shoulder you smile as he answers you “You’re making it sound a little too easy.” You simply let out a hmph of annoyance at him, of course, you made it sound easy. That was the trick with things that are hard, you needed to hook people by making them think it was easy and tell him as much. Leaning back you tilt his head so you can stare at him taking a long look at his features like you need to burn them into your mind before pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “Mayfly?”

There’s a waiver in his voice you weren’t expecting to hear giving him your full attention “Yes, my pretty plant man?” He snorts at that, and his eyes are flicking back and forth like he’s arguing with himself. A curt nod to himself and he’s staring into your eyes. 

“Do you remember that dream I told you about? The past lives one?” His voice is so low you just register the words, you nod for him to continue because you do remember, it’d been an interesting conversation when you’d been half asleep drinking coffee but you remember it. “There was a part I didn’t tell you about.”

“Oh, well color me intrigued” his hand is sliding up and down your back, and you’ve adjusted yourself so your fingers and intertwined behind his neck thumbs pressing into the base of his skull. At least when you’re not wiping the tears from his eyes.

“It was after all the other ones. You were standing in a kitchen and making coffee” Well that sounds like you and your love of coffee. “You were you, not a different version of you, with some pretty big bags under your eyes.” You’re frowning at him now, but Vash has a smile on his face that’s making your heart soar inside your chest. “You had a child balanced on your hip, don’t know how old they were and when you saw me you pointed at me and said to them ‘There’s your Papa.’ Oh Mayfly, even now, I can picture them in my head. Chubby little cheeks, mouth agape, and a happy scream when they were reaching out for me. I, I thought it was a vision of a possible future.” Now that, that has you thinking. Vash saw you? With a child, his child, shit why does that do things to your head and your heart the same way the photo did. Dredging up memories from a dream you’d shoved down where he’d had black hair. 

“I, I want that future Mayfly.” It’s not a few tears this time but a stream running down his face, and your own heart is beating fast enough to hurt, a dampness on your own lashes. “I want to have a baby with you, someday, I want us to be able to settle down somewhere beside the humans. I’ve never thought I was worthy of having something so wholesome, just kept throwing anything that was for myself away. How could I ever want something that was just for me when all these people live in such hardships because of me? But I want that Mayfly, I want enough that my chest hurts thinking I can’t have it with you.” At his words your head shots forward to close the gap and press your lips to his, tears mingling from both of you along your faces, and he returns the kiss with the same enthusiasm. Dried cracked lips pressing tenderly against one another, neither of you try to deepen the kiss but its still charged from the passion between the two of you.

When you pull away you leave your forehead pressed against his “I want that too Vash. A future with you, I want to stop wandering and have somewhere to belong.” The burning in your chest keeps growing because some part of you has long accepted that next to Vash is where you belong. As long as you can keep walking beside him you know you have your home, because Vash truly is your home even if it took a while for all of you to accept that reality. You aren’t sure how much longer you both sit like that for, enjoying each other's presence and simply existing. After a while, Vash pulls back looking at you with a tired smile.

“Sounds like we have a tomorrow to fight for, that's for us, and not just everyone else now.” You smile, knowing it’s best to move on, otherwise, both of you will start spiraling around the subject, a quagmire of things that you know deep down, neither one of you believes you deserve. Yet, that flicker of hope is growing inside of you a hope that you’ll find that tomorrow together and make the other see they deserve that. 

“Now, back to more recent items.” Forcing a cheerful tone as you let a shit-eating grin light up your face “Does this mean I can keep that photo?” 

A roll of his eyes before shifting you in his lap once more. “As long as you promise me it stays here, I don’t need anyone else seeing what I looked like. It’s embarrassing.” You just laugh pressing your lips to his once more, if that’s his only rule so you can keep the photo you can abide by that.

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp #vash x reader #vash x you

[juniorgman187]

Spoiled Rotten (Reid Fic)

Summary: After Spencer went radio silent on Reader while he was in prison, their pride and stubbornness threatens to tear them apart forever. Reader’s forced to mourn the death of who they were and experience the inner turmoil of navigating who they are.

A/N: Y’all are gonna kill me for the ending, but it’s one hell of a way to go.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst Content Warning: Imprisonment, humiliation, abandonment, anger, frustration, angst, yelling, fighting Word Count: 5.3k Playlist: Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo

Time jumps are indicated by “. . .” or “_ _ _”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

A rather unfortunate predicament we’ve found ourselves in tonight. I can’t say I’ve ever been quite this uncomfortable in my life, yet I’m careful not to speak too soon. Because I know the second Spencer opens his mouth to break the silence we’re currently sitting in, I’ll stand corrected. 

“You’re breathing really hard,” He tells me out of nowhere. 

See, I stand corrected. 

Now that I’ve become hyper aware of my own inhale and exhale, my respiration is just that much more restricted. I’m practically holding my breath at this moment - both from the anticipation of catching this unsub in the act and giving Spencer one less thing to scrutinize about me. 

“I didn’t say you had to stop breathing,” He tacks on as if it would put me any more at ease. Not that if he had explicitly said such a thing, I would’ve. 

Unlike other people, I wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to throw myself at his feet so he’d like me. But to use that as grounds for his disdain would be foolish. Our rancor went deeper than the basic lack of synergy between us. 

And in the spirit of getting to the bottom of that abyssal pit, I finally asked the question with words that always seemed to hang above but never would form. 

“Why was I the only one denied visitation while you were in prison?” 

It may surprise you to know that it wasn’t always like this between us; we were actually close once, although it is hard to imagine that version of us ever really existing. However, if I think about it hard enough, I can remember with perfect clarity who we used to be. 

. . .

“Jeez, you really don’t like these things do you?” I nudged him playfully before feeling instantly guilty once I witnessed the result of my shove that must’ve been a little too much for all 120 (at most) pounds of him. I’d neglected to remember the strength I held over the lanky Doctor as well as neglected to notice where the trajectory of my push would land him - in the direct line of a circus clown walking the opposite direction as us. This, of course, brought him face to face with the character. Unfortunately, I managed to catch a glimpse of the lens of Spencer’s glasses grazing the white face paint of the caricature. 

After a shudder of mortification and a very brave shriek, Spencer ran to my other side to be as far away from the clown as possible and apparently, as close to me as possible. From a distance, you’d think we were conjoined simply by the way he was glued to me - shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. 

While removing his glasses to clean them off with the hem of his blazer, he answered, “Carnivals? I mean, what’s not to like? What with the loud noises, the heart-attack-inducing food that’s more grease than actual food, or the sheer amount of bacteria harboring on each and every handle, hoop, ball, or button of these ridiculous game booths.” 

“Wow, you really don’t like carnivals.” I should’ve figured. 

“Nope. Never have and probably never will.” 

As someone who looked forward to the fair every summer of her childhood, any aversion to carnivals broke my heart. I had a fondness for them borne in adolescence that I couldn’t quite justify now in my adulthood. 

“But they’re fun!” was the best argument I could muster. The whine in my voice being provoked by the possibility that the higher the shrill of my pitch, the easier he’d be to sway. Turns out, Dr. Reid was not nearly as susceptible to my auditory persuasion as I might’ve thought he was. Just a stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. 

“I’m sorry. I know you brought me here because you love these things, but I just can’t get past the ...” He surveyed the fair, ostensibly against his will, in search of the perfect word to describe our surroundings. “Filth.”

I would’ve argued in the defense of the carnival, mentioning how it’s endearing that the only bathrooms for miles were porta potties, and that the screaming, crying, sticky children galore just added to the attraction, and that there was a hidden charm to the way the roller coasters creaked beyond their means with every ride. 

But to an extent, I agreed. It was rather filthy, and I wasn’t much of a germaphobe myself so to someone like him, this would be hell on earth. 

“Well, you get what you put into it. If you’re willing to overlook some minor imperfections, I really think you’d enjoy this place.” 

Spencer by now had his hands in his pockets and his walking pace had slowed to a complete halt. There was a moment of skepticism, followed by a partially open smile to make way for the laughter that escaped from the disbelief that he felt for letting me break his resolve so easily. 

“Alright then. What do you want to do first, Brat?” 

The nickname I’d earned could be seen as meanspirited, but truly, it was affectionately diminutive. Like all good nicknames are. And like the proclaimed Brat I was, I’d taken him to all my favorite parts of the fair. 

First came the bumper cars to ease him into the experience - as ironic as that sounds. He was reluctant to submerge his gangly body into a mini vehicle, much less one that’d been inhabited by God knows how many people before us, but he pushed his reservations aside when he realized he’d get to slam into my car (safely, of course). 

Secondly, we went on the Carousel, but this was only in preparation for the real ride that I wanted to take him on next - the Swinging Chairs. He’d gotten a little nauseous, from both the repetitive circling and the galvanized chains he had to hold that were definitely held by several others. 

He had no interest in going on the Gravitron - super lame, I know - so we opted for the Ferris Wheel instead. I didn’t mind making this compromise so much after recognizing all that he’d done for my benefit that night. And for his generosity and selflessness, I thought it only fitting to end the night going somewhere so tame he couldn’t possibly have any opposition to it.

The photo booth.

The booth in particular we’d gone to was smaller than an airplane bathroom, if you can imagine that. The bench seat was barely wide enough to fit Spencer, let alone seat the both of us. While he didn’t explicitly make the offer to let me sit on his lap, it was kind of a give in that I’d have some part of my body intertwined around him like stubborn ivy. 

. . .

I still laugh thinking about the tangled mess of limbs we were below what the camera couldn’t capture. It was arguably the furthest extent of contortionist work I wanted to do in my lifetime, and henceforth exceedingly uncomfortable, and yet, I’d never felt more at home than when I was in his arms. 

That night he would tear off the top three photos to keep for himself while I kept the bottom three photos. 

To this day, I have never seen the pictures that he kept, and I’m left to wonder if he had them at all.

Because I still have mine. And they were virtually the only thing keeping me sane throughout his trial and subsequent imprisonment. 

Six Months Ago ...

My eyes were locked on the loose thread of my cardigan that I was rolling between my fingers anxiously. 

“Would you stop that?” Penelope swatted my hand away from my sweater. “You’re making me nervous just looking at you.” She grumbled. 

“Sorry,” I apologized bleakly.

A few seconds later she groaned again, making me think I was still doing something bothersome, but it turned out to be just the opposite. “Ugh, I know that sounded mean, and I hate when I sound mean, but I can feel my forehead creasing from the stress, and watching you fidget is going to give me an ulcer.”

“I wish I could help it. I’m just really worried about him.”

“Well I am, too, but that’s not gonna do us any good right now. All we can do is hope for the best.”

Sometimes Penelope’s overly optimistic view on life was futile and unwelcome, and truthfully, this was one of those times. 

“Penny?” 

As she turned her head, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the lenses of her dark green glasses. I could see my own mournful expression as I asked, “What if he’s found guilty?” 

She started to say something but stopped herself. “Right now, all we need to focus on is his bail. We can worry about a verdict later.” She put her hand on top of mine and shook it briefly to remind me that we were in this together. 

Moments later recess was over and the team came trudging back into the courtroom. 

The sound of the judge clearing her throat and our footsteps on the floor made this feel all too normal. 

How could Spencer’s life be hanging in the balance in such a place as non-intimate as this? 

It frustrated me how casual things felt today and how everyone was acting normally. Prentiss had yet to bat an eye, Rossi’s stoic expression never changed, and Penelope was telling me not to worry. Everyone was acting so aloof. 

My eyes darted to Spencer, who was looking back at us woefully. I couldn’t bear to see him like that any longer, so I kept my head down and stared at my feet after I took my seat. 

Even when I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the vision of him in a suit, just like one he’d wear to work. But instead, he was wearing it for this - this vastly different situation. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him the same in one anymore. I’ll probably just remember this particular look on his face, in this god awful courtroom, during this horribly nauseating circumstance. 

If one thing was for certain, it was that this would all come back to me if I ever laid eyes on him in a suit, and that thought fucking terrified me. 

Because that one thought spiraled into the next: Everything was bound to change after this. Every little thing would change in every little way. 

Spencer’s lawyer, the judge, and the prosecutor were going back and forth for a while, but I tuned it all out because I knew if I had tuned in, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my arguments. Eventually, though, I heard something I could no longer ignore. 

“If past behavior is the best indicator of future conduct, and I do believe it is, then your client presents a flight risk.”

I stood up immediately, getting a head rush from the speed. I knew what was to follow, so I needed to be on my feet the second I heard it. Maybe so I could run and escape before I had to.

“Bail is denied. The defendant will remain in federal custody pending trial.” 

“Spencer!” I shouted, losing all the composure I’d been trying to maintain. I reached for him as if he was at any capacity to reach back and hold me. God, I needed him to hold me. Hold me like how he did at the carnival. 

Hold me.

Luke held me back as I fought to be near him.

“Let me go!” I screamed, trying to break free of his tight grip. Spencer could only stand and stare, mirroring my own wistful glance. He mouthed something to me that I couldn’t quite make out, but if I knew him at all, he probably said something about not wanting me to worry about him. 

“(Y/n), (y/n) it’s gonna be alright.” JJ reasoned, pulling me into a hug. 

“How long before this case goes to trial?” I heard Prentiss whisper to Spencer’s lawyer. 

“It’s a complicated case. I’d say three months maybe?” 

Immediately, I worked myself out of JJ’s arms and pushed my way through the team, running up to the barrier between us.

“Spence!” I cried out in anguish. 

To the sound of my voice, he glanced over his shoulder sadly. He wasn’t even shocked I’d been able to get so close to him - he seemed to expect it, and for that, he was sad. Because he knew if I was going to be as stubborn as to fight to get to him at this hearing, then I was going to be stubborn enough to reach him in prison, too. And should he find himself behind bars, he knew that I’d get to him one way or another. 

That is if he’d let me. 

“Be strong,” He weakly smiled. ‘For me’ his sad eyes begged in addition. He held my gaze for as long as he possibly could before disappearing into another room. 

As I watched him walk away, I could feel my heart shattering and crumbling into the pit of my stomach. Perhaps that was a premonition, a true gut feeling, telling me something I at the time couldn’t have known and wouldn’t have accepted. 

That was the last time I would see Spencer. 

People always say when something unbelievable happens, it doesn’t feel real, but this? Nothing felt more real and more intense than this. 

There was no other way for me to see this situation but as the first defeat in an endless line of them.

If Spencer was denied bail, what else could happen to him? Could he be found guilty too? Because prior to this, the denial of his bail seemed impossible. He posed no flight risk, but according to the judge, he did. So if what I once thought to be impossible happened, then it could and would happen again.

I knew Spencer was going to be found guilty.

What I didn’t know, though, was how I was going to live with myself from then on.

I didn’t go that day. 

I knew myself too well. So did the others, which is why they didn’t object to my decision not to come to Spencer’s trial. They knew I was better off staying home. Especially, if there was the chance that I might react hysterically again.

I didn’t stay home, though. That part the team never found out about. 

I went to visit Diana instead. A much wiser choice, in my opinion. 

“You know, we’ve been talking so much about Spencer today, but we haven’t talked about you yet,” said Diana. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” I feigned a polite smile. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” She tilted her chin downward and gave me that sly grin of hers. 

“No, no, of course not. I know better than to underestimate the Diana Reid.” I quipped, making her smile widen. “I just figured you’d wanna spend your time talking about someone much more interesting.” 

“Oh please, Spencer and I talk about you all the time.”

I perked up from the checker piece I was fiddling with. “You do?”

“Mhm,” She nodded over and over again. “I always knew there was something between you two because you could always talk about each other to me, but for some reason, you could never actually talk to each other.”

For the first time in months, I genuinely laughed and I couldn’t help it. “He makes me nervous! I always feel like he might correct something I say, or tell me that there’s food in my teeth.” 

“You know, now that you mention it, I do remember him saying something about seeing a really big piece of lettuce in your teeth one time.” 

“Diana!” I squealed, pushing the checkerboard at her, pretending to take offense. 

“I really don’t know what you’re so nervous about! I think it would be good if you just talked to him.” 

“It’s, um, it’s not that simple. Not right now, at least.” 

My energy quickly nose-dived and I tried to do my best to hide it from Diana, but it permeated through the rest of the visit. I couldn’t fully enjoy myself after it. 

The team and I all agreed not to let Diana know, especially not with the uncertainty of the case. There was no point riling her up if there was nothing to be worried about. And I could only imagine how I reacted - Diana would be reacting 10 times more hysterically. 

But as much as I hated to say it, I almost would’ve rather been in her position. 

I would give anything to un-know Spencer’s circumstance.

Present Time ...

In this car, there was nowhere for him to run or hide, not like before.

Anytime I so much as entered his gravity by being in the same room, he’d flee the space in the next breath. Granted, he couldn’t really avoid me entirely. We did have to be on the same flight for an extended period of time, but he made that work by letting me choose my spot first, then choosing a spot directly on the opposite side of the jet. 

What a gentleman, huh?

“Kudos to you, by the way. For managing to avoid me for this long. I imagine it’s been as not-easy as it has been incredibly-cowardly.” My words stung as they flowed from my lips as badly as I imagine they seared his already cracked skin. I couldn’t believe that now that I finally had the opportunity to talk to him, I was using it to be petty and passively aggressive. But then again, I could. 

Because after what he put me through, he deserved to feel the full severity of my indignation.

My only wish was that he knew exactly how I had felt when I found out. 

. . .

Icarus. 

He died tragically while using artificial wings, invented by his father, to escape from the Labyrinth. When Icarus flew too close to the sun, it melted the wax that held the wings together, and he fell into the sea.

‘Don’t fly too close to the sun.’ That’s the moral of the story. That’s what Reid was trying to tell me. But I didn’t listen. 

I flew too close. 

I had approached the window with more zeal than this predicament warranted. 

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here to see Spencer Reid, R-E-I-D,” I eagerly spelt his last name with ease as though it were my own last name. 

She’d flipped back and forth between pages, running her index finger up and down the sheet for far too long that it made me worry. Turns out, I had every right to be worried. 

“I don’t see you on the list, ma’am.” 

I was so mindnumbingly dumb that I couldn’t even see how dumb I was being. “Oh no no no, I’m with the FBI. I called earlier and left a message, remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember you,” She smiled politely, giving me the tiniest fragment of hope. “But you’re not on his list.” Only for it to be shattered in an instant. 

I had yet to process or accept this information. “So what does that mean?”

“It means he doesn't wanna see you right now. And frankly, neither do I. Next!” 

“Wait, could you just please check with him? My name is (y/n) -” 

“Ma’am, you are holding up a whole line of people that wanna see their loved ones too, so I suggest you see yourself out before I call security to help see you out.” 

I knew by her tone of the word ‘help’ that meant a prison guard would most likely forcibly remove me from the premises, and the last thing I needed was to feel even more humiliated. 

I got plenty of that when I had to come back to the BAU. 

“You’re not on the list?” Luke seemed genuinely shocked. More so than I was. Above all, I just felt really stupid. 

“I’m sure it was just a mistake.” Stephen reasoned. He was so good at being level-headed. Which normally, I would’ve loved. But right now, it only fueled the fire burning in my chest.

“That’s what I thought at first, too. But later on, she asked him herself, and he said - and I quote, ‘I don’t want to see her. Not now. Not ever.’”

. . .

Those were the words that seared my skin, and he hadn’t even spoken them directly to me to do it. 

The words that did just enough to heal me back to health were, of course, Penelope’s.

“Since you haven’t seen him yet, the rest of us will just wait until you have. It’s only fair that you have your first turn before the rest of us go back for a second time.” 

Back then, it was easy to hold out hope, but the more and more time passed, the more he kept denying my visits. Therefore, the more my hope began to fade. 

It had been weeks since anyone else had seen him before I finally surrendered. Although I had newly-brewing sourness towards Reid, it didn’t feel fair to deny him everyone else’s presence until mine was permitted. 

Luke was the one who volunteered to visit first. And to my dismay, Spencer didn’t fight against it. 

The proof was finally there. Now I could say with absolute certainty: Spencer just didn’t want to see me. 

It was both ironic and utterly frustrating to think about how I’d never gone more than two weeks without seeing him. Even when the BAU got time off after big cases, we’d always spend that time together. The longest we’d spent apart was 12 days. And right when he came back to D.C, we were attached at the hip for the next week, trying to compensate for all that time we were apart. 

Now, look at us. I haven’t said one word to him in half a year. 

If tragedy and comedy could coexist, this would be it. 

“How is he?” I asked Luke as soon as he got back. 

“He’s holding on,” Luke affirmed with confidence. What he said next lacked any of that. “He told me to tell you not to worry about him.” 

Something in me knew it was a lie. “Did he actually say that?”

His lack of an answer was one itself. 

“Did he say anything at all about me?”

“I tried telling him how much you wanted to see him, but he just brushed it off. I’m sorry, (y/n).” 

This became my routine for the months to follow. Every time someone would come back from the prison, I’d ask them if they talked about me, but the answer was always no. After a while, it had gotten to the point where I purposefully started leaving myself out of the loop. At least in that case, it was by my own volition that I was being excluded, not by a predicament being forced on me. 

Not by Spencer. 

“We’re not doing this right now,” Spencer declaration brought me back to the present, where I found him removing himself from both the conversation and the vehicle. When I heard the latch click to open, my hand reflexively flew to my auto-lock to prevent him from leaving. Naturally, he still managed to escape using his door’s button.

If I couldn’t stop him, then I could follow him. 

“Then when will we do this? Huh, Spencer? When? Because anytime I try to talk to you, you run away.” The mere fact that I was speed-walking after him was proof. While he casually strolled down the sidewalk paying me no mind, I tried to be clever and walk down the street so we’d be somewhat side to side. I was tired of staring at his back every time he walked away. I needed to see his face.

For his every stride, I had to take at least three steps. He was gliding through the world so effortlessly as I was trekking my uphill battle. It was quite fitting, though. Further exemplification that, between us, I was fighting harder to preserve the people we used to be, the relationship we used to have. Meanwhile, he couldn’t care less. A stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. Just like he always was. 

As I began to speak, I had to also be conscious of the parked cars along the curb, being careful to weave in and out. 

“For months, you have blatantly ignored me. The entire time you were in prison, you denied my visits. And it’s not like it was a one time thing. I tried to visit you over 100 times while you were in jail! 100 times I got rejected. 100 times I got turned away. 100 times my heart shattered.” 

By now, I was speaking so loudly that I could see household lights within neighboring homes turning on. I hadn’t even realized how far we’d walked down the street and away from our car, but it was the last thing on my mind. 

“Then after you were released, it’s like I never even existed. I had to find out that you were out of there a week later than everyone else because they all assumed you came to me yourself to tell me the good news,” I laughed wryly at my own stupidity. “Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

“Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

It took me a second to register that he was actually engaging with me in this conversation now. But when I looked at his expression, I could see that something within him had snapped. A little piece of me was glad, though. Now I knew for sure that there was some effect I had on him. 

“Hard for you?”

“I know you came to visit me 100 times! Want to know how I know? Because I was there, too! I was there every time a guard came to ask if I wanted to see you. I was there every time I turned you away. And while you got to walk out of those doors every time I did, I was stuck in there, rotting in that cell, thinking about how badly I wanted to see you. How badly I wanted to touch ...” His voice faltered. “To touch you. But I had to protect you!” 

“You do realize in protecting me, you were hurting me in the process.” 

“Because you just don��t know when to leave well enough alone!” His hands tugged at the root of his unruly hair like evidence of the frustration that my stubbornness caused. “You’re such a pain in the ass because you can never cooperate! It’s gotta be your way or no one else’s! ‘Spencer, it has to be this way because I said so. Spencer, you have to let me see you because I said so. Spencer, you have to talk to me because I said so. Spencer, you have to ride this stupid roller coaster because I said so,’” His imitation of my nagging voice would’ve made me laugh before. Now, it was bringing me onto the verge of tears. “Since clearly no one’s told you this before - not everything is about you! You just want it to be because you’re a whiny, little brat! You’re so spoiled rotten that you can’t even see how far down it goes. If you did, you’d know that you’re rotten to the core and that nothing will ever satisfy you. Especially me.”

His words had done more than sear me. They pierced me. They ripped me. They destroyed me. When he called me Brat, I thought it was endearing. Now, looking back, I realize - no, that’s just how little he thought of me. 

As I came to the conclusion, I stopped dead in my tracks on the pavement. 

I was done chasing Spencer.

His face had fallen from its anger, indicating he was apologetic, but I was beyond accepting his sorry excuses anymore. I couldn’t stand to look at him so I looked behind me to find our car at least a football field away. I guess in many ways, I’d gone the whole nine yards. 

“This is what you wanted right?” I turned back to him momentarily. My voice scared me how calm it was because, inside, I was boiling with rage. “Well, here you go, Spence. Have all the fucking space you want.” 

It was usually me watching his back while he walked away, and now, he was watching mine. 

“(Y/n), wait!” 

And for the briefest second, it actually felt good to be the first one to leave. 

I was free. 

_ _ _

To my dismay and relief, when I walked into work the next morning, he wasn’t there. I would’ve looked for him with more than a cursory glance except I was stuck on looking at something strange in the bullpen that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But as I walked further in, a blaring siren went off in my head. 

Spencer’s desk is completely empty. 

I instantly sorted through my purse for my phone to reach Prentiss when I noticed something more. 

I had been desperate to cling onto any notion that he still loved me, and there it was, just sitting on his desk. Proof that the man I loved was still in there somewhere.

The top three pictures from the carnival photo booth.

I laughed, as I always did, thinking about how much we had to exert ourselves to be positioned in a semi-adequate way. In the next wave, I felt profoundly empty. He had kept the pictures all these years, and now that I finally get to see them, he’s left me.

As I brought my hand to my face to clear the tears pooling at my lower lashes, I saw that my finger had an ink smear on the pad of it. There was nowhere else I could’ve obtained it except for if there was writing on the back of the photos. 

What I read when I turned it over was as follows. 

I want to be this guy for you again, (y/n). I just don’t know how. 

I just don’t know if I can.

No matter how much I’ve changed, one thing’s still the same.

I love you. 

I should’ve focused on the message, but all that I could focus on was that if I managed to smear the ink, that meant it was fresh, written just now. 

He was still here. 

I pocketed the photos and abandoned my purse, only carrying with me the phone that I forgot to use to dial Prentiss. After a moment’s indecision, I figured that taking the stairs would be faster than the elevator, and I bounded down the steps without hesitation. 

“Spencer!” I yelled into the parking structure when I reached the ground floor. The sound of me bursting through the door caught the attention of Anderson, who was getting out of his car. 

“I just saw him leave.” Anderson threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the exit. I knew, even in my state of mind, there was no feasible reality where I could reach him on foot. I had to call him. 

I pleaded to myself for him to pick up with every ring of my phone. 

“(Y/n),” He said like a statement instead of a question. Again, he’d anticipated I’d do this. He probably picked it up not even having to look at the caller ID but knowing it was me and no one else. 

“I don’t need you to be the guy you were before, Spencer. I just need you to bend a little bit. I know we’re both stubborn people, but if we can just find a halfway point-”

“(Y/n), (y/n),” He was settling me and the sentences that were coming out of my mouth at 100 mph. 

“I’ll bend if you bend.” I promised. 

The static of the call filled my ears until his voice finally did.

“For everyone else, I bend ... for you, I break.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

I don’t often reply to comments/ reblogs, so if you’d like me to respond, tell me your thoughts on this piece or any others here!

If you’re on this taglist, I strongly suggest commenting, reblogging, or liking!

CLICK HERE TO JOIN A TAGLIST

Reid Taglist: @spencerreid-mgg, @obsessedmaggiemay, @k-k0129, @aperrywilliams, @pinkisokay, @goldeng1rl8, @kreid187, @justanothetfangirl, @random-human-person, @spencerreid9, @josiemay20, @coldlilheart​, @kalamitykait, 

Complete Taglist: @ashwarren32, @spencerreid-mgg, @k-k0129, @eevee0722, @half-blood-dork, @kreid187, @jeremiah-b99, @random-human-person, @you-sunshine, @josiemay20, @coldlilheart, @spenxerslut, @dreamer-writer-fangirl, @jinxy175, @muffin-cup, @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence​, @calm-and-doctor​, @spencersmagic​, 

#juniorgman187 #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #angst #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #spoiled rotten

[daveyjacobss]

skeletons in the bathroom

racetrack higgins x reader

summary: it’s spooky season, and is there anything scarier than having to confront and admit your feelings for one of your closest friends? (or, in which y/n is helping race get ready for a halloween party and desperately trying not to think about how much she wants to kiss him.)

a/n: i did it!! a halloween fic out for october 2020!! sorry it’s so late in the month, life has been very hectic with an overload of assignments and plenty of politics induced stress. anyway this is unedited so sorry in advance but i hope you like it :)

masterlist

__________

This had been such a bad idea. Why on earth had she agreed to this? What kind of astounding lack of brain cells had led to her saying yes to attending her own goddamn funeral?

"Albert, you would leave flowers at my grave, wouldn't you?" She turned to look at him just in time to see him roll his eyes. Jojo and Finch, sitting across from them at their table in the library, both stared at her with equally confused and amused expressions.

"Y/N if you tell me you're gonna die one more time, I'll literally kill you myself." Albert fixed her with a halfhearted glare, brushing his hair out of his face. She groaned and dropped her head down on top of her arms, resting lazily in the tabletop. Jojo laughed quietly at her, but she didn't have the heart to give him a death stare in return.

"Out of curiosity," Finch started, effectively abandoning his work, "what kind of flowers would you want?" She lifted her head, pursing her lips in concentration as she thought the question over.

"I don't know, either something really pretty or something ridiculously dramatic." Albert sighed beside her, finally putting his pencil down. Jojo had stopped actually trying to get work done a half hour prior. "Like, some pretty marigolds or daisies would be cool, ya know? But, also, a single red rose would have a very nice effect." Jojo nodded along with her.

"What about black dahlias?" He asked. Y/N perked up at that.

"Oh, yes! Definitely achieving that she-was-probably-murdered-and-the-killer-is-leaving-flowers vibe." She high fived Jojo while Finch shook his head at them. Albert hit her from her right side—lightly, but she let out a loud "ow!" anyway.

"Can you stop moping and acting like you're gonna die? You're the one who got yourself into this mess." She went back to being miserable immediately, groaning again for effect.

"Will someone please explain why she's dying?" Finch asked, directed more at the other two boys than at Y/N. Albert rolled his eyes again.

"Race asked her to do his makeup for his skeleton costume before the party tonight and she said yes, but now she thinks she's gonna die when she does it." He punctuated his words with a pointed look at her which effectively communicated all of his exasperation as well as the sentiment he had been expressing to her for almost two years, that she should just go for it and ask Race out. She ignored it completely.

"I am going to die!" She threw her hands in the air for dramatic effect, giving Finch and Jojo her best 'I'm in despair' look. "I'm gonna have to be ridiculously close to his face—and his lips—for way too long! I'm gonna either go insane and launch myself out the fucking window or die of embarrassment."

All three boys laughed at her. Insulted, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at them.

"Y/N, it'll be fine," Finch said, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. "Anyway, why can't you just ask him out already and not have to deal with the funeral arrangements?" She offered him her best deadpan stare.

"C'mon, Y/N," Jojo chimed in. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Oh no, don't get her started," Albert groaned.

"The worst that could happen? Are you kidding?" She looked at them incredulously. "Well, for starters, I could tell him I like him and then he could be disgusted because why would he ever like me back when he's him and I'm me, and then, because he was your friend first and things are super awkward between me and him, we drift apart, and then I lose all of my friends and I die alone with no one to leave black dahlias on my grave in order to entertain my dramatics." Finch blinked, staring at her with wide eyes as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard.

"Hold on," Jojo spoke up again, face contorted with anger. "He would not be disgusted. Even if he didn't like you back, which he does—"

"Does not," she grumbled.

"Does too," they all answered in unison.

"He wouldn't be mean about it," Jojo continued.

"And we wouldn't stop being your friends," Albert added.

"Plus, even if we suddenly become arch enemies I'm totally still leaving black dahlias on your grave for dramatics," Finch grinned, winking at her. That got her to laugh a little, smiling back at him.

"I just..." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don't want to ruin anything, and I don't want everything to change between us. I'm fine being his friend, that's enough for me. It's just hard to keep my feelings in check when he gets too close to me." Her eyebrows furrowed while she fidgeted with her fingers, not liking how vulnerable she felt while telling all of them that. Albert's arm slid around her shoulders, bringing her into his side. It was awkward and uncomfortable leaning across the gap between their chairs, but she enjoyed the comfort anyway.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said gently. "You have our support either way." Jojo and Finch nodded, both smiling encouragingly at her. She smiled back at them, moving to gather up all of her papers. The boys followed suit, shoving everything back in their backpacks.

"Thank you," she said quietly just as they were all pushing their chairs in.

"Anytime," Albert grinned brightly, throwing his arm around her again and leading them out of the building. A wind blew as they walked out into the October sun, sending a chill through her body and causing her to lean into Albert's body for warmth. They all started walking in the direction of their on-campus apartments, pointing out the most colorful trees and joking about the upcoming party with easy smiles.

"Speak of the devil," Jojo muttered from behind her. She went to turn back to look at him and ask what he meant, but Albert pulled her more securely against him and she laughed.

"Hey guys!" Finch called out, waving wildly. She looked in the direction he was facing and saw Race walking in the opposite direction with Romeo across the street from them. She felt heat rush to her face automatically, lifting her hand in a small wave while sporting a shy smile. Albert and Jojo waved enthusiastically with Finch, receiving an equally energetic wave from Romeo and a small wave from Race. Y/N tilted her head in confusion, frowning. Race never missed the chance to make an ordeal out something as small as seeing his friends across the street, was something wrong? No one else seemed concerned, though, and their small group kept moving. If anything, Finch and Jojo seemed amused, snickering quietly behind her and Albert.

They parted to go to their respective apartments, all three boys giving Y/N a hug goodbye. She took full advantage of their attempts at comfort, holding them tightly and burying her head in their chests. Once she was back in her apartment, her roommates thankfully back home for the weekend, she dropped her bag on the floor and took a deep breath. Race was set to come over a little while later to get ready for the party, that left her some time to clean up a little. He wouldn't care if the apartment was dirty, but she couldn't get rid of the urge to make sure the counters were decluttered and the bathroom where she would be doing his makeup smelled nice. Plus, at least it would give her something to do to distract herself from her ever growing anxiety.

She was definitely going to die.

__________

Race was ten minutes late, but Y/N had already figured he would be when his "omw" text didn't come until a minute after he was supposed to be at her apartment. He grinned at her when she opened the door, arms (adorably) holding the straps of his backpack that she assumed was carrying his costume.

"I wasn't sure if you would want me to put on the costume before or after the makeup," he said as he walked in. "So I just brought it to change into." She liked the way he looked so comfortable in her apartment, facing her casually with his hair messy from the wind. She smiled softly at him, unable to contain her ever present joy at seeing him.

"Before, definitely. If you put it on after you might mess your face up." He nodded, already shrugging his bag off his shoulder.

"Your room okay?" He asked, gesturing in the direction of her bedroom.

"'Course. Just don't mess with anything in there." She playfully pointed a finger at his chest and he laughed as he moved into her room and closed the door behind him. She walked into the bathroom, taking deep breaths and trying to tell herself everything would be okay. Her and Race were friends, and she was perfectly capable of helping him with his Halloween makeup like a normal person. Maybe. Hopefully. Kinda. Probably not. God, she was hopeless.

He found her in the bathroom obsessively reorganizing the makeup, dressed in his full skeleton getup. She smiled when she saw him in it, happy that he hadn't picked something with a good that would have concealed his beautiful curls. With his lanky stature and gangly limbs, the costume worked perfectly for him. He grinned back at her, doing a little shimmy that made her laugh.

"You like?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she shook her head in a amusement.

"It looks good," she confirmed, their usual joking banter hindered by her nerves. "We should get started so we have enough time, I still need to get changed and finish my makeup, too." She patted the bathroom counter and he followed her hand, hoisting himself up so he was sitting on the counter facing her, swinging his legs.

She tried not to think too hard as she started on his face, going in with a layer of white before anything else. She could feel his breath on her wrist, but she tried not to think about it. Thinking about it meant her own breath would hitch and then, because their faces were so close, he would notice. She brought a hand up to his jaw to steady his face and resolutely did not think about how easy it would be to pull him to her and kiss him.

Part of her wanted to listen to the boys. She wanted to say fuck it and tell him how she felt about him. She wanted to flirt with him while she had him at her mercy like this, wanted to lean in and put a hand on his thigh for balance just to see how he would react. She wanted to know if his breathing would change, if his heart would skip a beat, if he would look at her with wide eyes or if he would simply smirk and carry on. Or maybe he wouldn't do anything, because it would nothing but a meaningless gesture to him. But, god, she wanted to try. And she wanted to kiss him so badly.

Still, the other part of her triumphed. The part that told her he didn't feel the same way about her, that to him she was just a good friend and if she went and did something stupid she would ruin that.

She asked him to close his eyes and he did so obediently. She took the chance to look at his lips while he wouldn't be able to notice, realizing how quiet he'd been the whole time so far. Once his face was fully covered with white he opened his eyes and she took a small break, giving herself some time to calm down her erratic heart beat. He kicked his legs out again without her standing in front of him to block them.

"So," he started, staring down at his feet instead of looking at her. She tilted her head slightly, waiting for him to continue. "You and Albert, huh?" Her eyebrows furrowed and she stopped short as she went to grab a brush, paused in confusion. "What's going on there?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, trying to laugh to diffuse whatever tension had just overtaken the room but only managing a nervous chuckle.

"You two looked pretty cozy earlier, outside. Do I gotta start preparing myself for you to be acting all gross and couple-y whenever we go out now?" His voice sounded strained, like he was trying to force the question to be casual. She figured it was because he was upset Albert and her wouldn't tell him something like—which, they totally would if that was at all a possibility. Which it wasn't. The whole idea was so ridiculous a strangled laugh bubbled out of her throat.

"Oh, god no. There is nothing romantic happening between me and Albert." She looked down at her hands, avoiding having to look at his face. "No, it was just cold, you know? And he was trying to comfort me because I was upset." Suddenly he was there, standing in front of her. He gently tilted her chin up to look at him and used his other hand to grab hers.

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

She was going to cry. She was going to burst into tears, standing in her own bathroom with Race's touch overwhelming her senses. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome and funny and kind and loving. It wasn't fair that whenever he looked at her she felt like no one else existed. It wasn't fair that she couldn't breathe with his hand still resting just under her chin. And the universe was just playing dirty having him call her babe like it was nothing, like it didn't make her heart swell in her chest. Like it didn't absolutely break her. She was definitely gonna cry, her eyes already watery.

His concern only seemed to increase when he saw the distraught look on her face. He tried to take another step toward her but she moved backward, detaching herself from his hands. She breathed deeply, running her hands through her hair as she tried to keep herself from sobbing. He looked so worried—so sad—and it just wasn't fair.

"I'm—" Her words got caught on the lump in her throat. "It's nothing, really. I'm just being dumb." He looked at her disbelievingly.

"Y/N c'mon, you're clearly upset, let me—" He cut himself off at the way she back away from him again while he reached out, hurt flashing across his face. "Here, why don't we just skip out on the party? I'll stay here with you and we can watch old Disney Halloween movies or something." She wanted that so bad, she wanted that more than anything she had ever wanted. But she couldn't, it would only hurt her more.

"No," she sniffled, regaining her composure. "No, you should go. I might stay back, I dunno. But I don't wanna keep you from having fun."

"Hey." His voice was soft, the corners of his lips turning upwards just slightly. He was so beautiful she could have died over it. "I always have fun with you, party or not. If you don't go, I don't go."

"God, Race. You can't just—you can't say things like that." She huffed while he blanched in confusion. "It's not fair."

"What? I don't—"

"Listen, I'll finish your makeup, yeah? And then we'll go to the party and we can pretend like this never happened. Okay?" He nodded mutely, slowly positioning himself back on the counter. The concern wasn't gone from his eyes and his mouth was set in a frown, but he complied.

Not crying was a constant effort the entire time she finished his skeleton makeup. She felt her lip quiver at more than one point and Race's eyes kept darting down toward it. She did her best to keep it steady, not wanting him to see her cry. He had seen her cry before, of course, over classes and movies and the like, but there was a special kind of shame associated with him seeing her cry over him.

It wasn't until after she was done that he spoke up again. "Do you not want to be alone with me?" He asked it so quietly she was sure it must not have come from him, used to his loud, boisterous voice. Her heart broke all over again.

"That's not it, Race. You know that, right? It's not your fault I'm upset." It wasn't, really. If she was going to blame anyone it would all be on herself.

"What, then?" The joking tone was back in his voice, clearly trying to diffuse the tension and brighten the mood. "Too afraid you won't be able to control yourself around me?" Yes. "I know you'd love to jump these bones." She laughed despite herself, playfully hitting his arm. Her reaction made him smile again, and she was glad. He always knew how to cheer her up.

It only took a little while longer for her to change into her costume (just a regular witch in shades of black and purple) and put on her makeup. Race watched her as she put on her dark lipstick, making her nervous and subsequently causing her hands to shake, but she made it through alright.

They left just a bit before the party was supposed to start, Y/N shivering in the cold air as they walked. Race glanced at her a few times, seemingly conflicted, before cautiously wrapping an arm around her. She leaned into his touch and he gripped shoulder more firmly, pulling her into his side. When they stopped to let a car go by she turned to him and wrapped both her arms around him, basking in his warmth. Race was like a heater, generating warmth from the day she met him. He returned her embrace, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He mumbled into her ear. A shiver went down her spine at his voice so close to her ear, but she nodded, holding him tighter. They were later to the party then they should've been, having spent a good amount of time in that embrace. It had made her heart all fluttery, not to mention the way it did somersaults every time Race looked at her for the rest of the walk (which was a lot, he must have been really worried).

She expected him to split off once they entered, going to look for some of his other friends, but he stuck by her side. It made her smile, the butterflies in her stomach going wild. They went to grab drinks together and ran into Finch.

"Hey!" He smiled dopily, clearly a little tipsy already. "The makeup looks great," he gestured at Race's face. "And you two look so cute together." Heat rushed to Y/N's face as she quickly took a sip of her drink in order to avoid having to respond. Race simply laughed.

"Yeah, Y/N did an awesome job, right? I knew she would, though. I could feel it in my bones." Y/N groaned and Finch cringed.

"That was awful, dude." Race grinned proudly anyway, waving as Finch left to go back to the friends he was with.

"Did you pick this costume just so you could make bad jokes?" Y/N turned to face Race, raising an eyebrow. He winked, which was all the answer she needed. She wanted to give some sort of sarcastic remark in return, but the wink made her giggle nervously. He seemed content with her response all the same.

About three thousand skeleton jokes later (he had literally greeted Davey by saying "bonejour." Davey had promptly turned around and left the two of them without saying a word), Y/N and Race were sat on the couch together, chatting amicably. She felt better with a bit of alcohol in her veins and a few buckets of false hope from the fact that Race hadn't tried to leave her side once the whole time they'd been there.

"You're such an idiot," she laughed uncontrollably as he relayed a story about him following a squirrel across campus the week prior.

"What can I say?" He grinned cheekily. Her smile dropped.

"Don't you dare—"

"I'm a bonehead." He knocked on his head for good measure.

"Okay that's it, I'm leaving." She moved as if to get up before Race reached out to grab her arm.

"Y/N, no!" He managed to get out through his laughter. "Don't leave me bonely!" She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're the worst," she groaned as she let him pull her back into her seat next to him.

"But you love me anyway." He poked her side and she looked at his face. The makeup looked good, she had to admit, but she wished it had been able to mask his face better. Because looking at his face was still looking at his face, makeup or no makeup, and she had a bad habit of getting caught up in looking at his face. His features seemed to tense, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly. "Drinks!" He said suddenly, breaking their staring contest and practically jumping out of his seat. "I'm gonna go get us more drinks." She nodded, eyebrows furrowed as she watched him scurry off. That had certainly been strange.

"Fancy seeing you here." She turned to see Albert falling into Race's spot beside her, grinning around his own drink.

"Hey," she smiled, adjusting her witch hat.

"You and lover boy work things out yet?" She punched his arm and he gaped at her.

"Shut up," she hissed. "It's not gonna happen, let it go." He rolled his eyes.

"You sure? Because, from what I've seen, he hasn't stopped staring at you all night." She glared at the redhead, pouting.

"Stop giving me hope, asshole. It just makes this worse."

"Makes what worse?" She looked up to find Race standing in front of them, two drinks in hand. She took one from him with a smile.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Albert's just being annoying."

"Isn't he always?" Race asked with a smirk the same time that Albert said "hey!" Deciding this would be her best chance at payback for teasing her about her crush on Race, she pushed Albert off the couch. Race laughed loudly, stepping over his friend to return to his seat. She smiled brightly at him and he grinned back, bumping her shoulder with his. She had to take a drink to stop the flustered laughter from escaping her throat.

"You two suck," Albert groaned from their feet. It only made them laugh more, still giggling even as Albert stood up grumpily and walked away without saying goodbye.

"Your costume looks really good, by the way." She turned to Race, her smile faltering. "I didn't tell you earlier, but I like it." He said it so earnestly, looking right into her eyes. The only thing she could think of was hoping the boys were ready with those black dahlias, because she was a total goner.

"Thank you," she said softly, lost in his gaze. She thought about them in the bathroom, how she had wanted to put her hand on his thigh just to see how he would react. Thinking of what Albert had said and taking another gulp of her drink, she did just that. She leaned forward and put her hand on his thigh to steady herself. He froze. It was hard to tell over the noise of the party, but she thought she might have heard his breath hitch. She couldn't look away from him, her eyes once again finding his lips.

"You spent so long on this makeup," he muttered. "And it looks really cool." She tilted her head in confusion.

"Huh?"

"I really don't wanna ruin it. I'm sorry."

"Why would you—"

But then he kissed her, so no question she could have asked mattered anyway. He was kissing her. Oh, Albert was gonna laugh so hard when he heard about this.

She kissed him back fervently, one of her hands tangling in the curls at the back of his head while the other remained on his thigh to keep herself steady. One of his hands rested lightly on her waist, squeezing just slightly, while the other caressed her jaw. It felt like in the bathroom earlier that night when he had tilted her chin to look at him, but so much better.

He pulled back before she was ready, eyes still closed as she unconsciously chased his lips. She opened her eyes to see his makeup smudged and definitely some her lipstick on his lips, a warm feeling settling in her chest. But his mouth was pulled into a frown and it sobered her quickly. He was pulling at his hair, his eyes wide with panic and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "You're upset, I shouldn't have done that. I've been trying to cheer you up and now I've, like, totally taken advantage of you when you're vulnerable and—"

"Race." He looked at her, face practically begging for forgiveness. She reached for his hands with a small smile. "You're not taking advantage of me. I was only upset because I thought I didn't have a chance with you." She shrugged slightly, averting her eyes. He gaped at her.

"You didn't have a chance with me? Are you kidding?" He tightened his grip on her hands, pulling himself closer to her. "Y/N, I've been pining after you since, like, the day we met. You're ridiculously out of my league." She looked at him with wide eyes, meeting his gaze. They both broke out into grins at the same time before she was leaning in again and he was following.

He tasted like candy and alcohol and she couldn't have asked for anything better. They slid closer to each other on the couch until her hands were clasped together behind his neck, playing with his curls, and his were holding her waist. She couldn't get enough of him. She didn't think she would ever get enough of him. They were both breathing heavily when they pulled away again, foreheads resting against each other.

"You know," Y/N breathed. "If that whole 'just the two of us spending the night at my apartment and watching old halloween movies' offer is still on the table...." He laughed quietly, his head falling to the crook in her neck.

"Definitely still on the table." He pressed a light kiss to her neck and she was dragging him into a standing position immediately, fully ready to get away from all the other partygoers. She wouldn't be able to handle it if his hands wandered any further than they had already gone, she needed time to breathe and process—preferably away from the crowd.

He held her hand and lead her through the sea of people to the front door. Jojo caught sight of them as they made their way out and, presumably seeing their joint hands and messed up makeup, whooped at them. Y/N laughed and Race stuck his tongue out at his friend.

"Which movie do you wanna watch first?" She asked as they walked back, holding onto his arm and leaning into his side.

"Oh, definitely Halloweentown." She smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. He chuckled when they pulled apart. "You know, I would say a skeleton pun right now, but I don't have the guts to ruin this moment."

"Oh my god, Race."

__________

tag list: @isarants @tomanybandstolove @seriously-ceci @bens-platt @earlyjunes @broadway-trashh @interwebseriesfan24 @returnoftheborle @cozykleinman @timesarehardfornewsies @jackclyde @last-an-eon @annabethgranger123 @musi-xals @notyouraveragegryffindoor @magic-made-by-melody @i-also-miss-our-talks@linfuckingmirandaaa @shatteringinprogress @storytellersun @psych-stereo @books-cats-sprinkles @me-andthe-sky @connor-is-my-sunshine @merediths2003 @papesfordavey @larryisinfactnotstraight @casifer-is-cute @gem-evieve @actually-lizzy @broadwayobsessedteen @majo16199 @sarkitsm @suffering-bi @tommy-braccoli @starryrevelations @woolfhrd @thesleepingandthedead @cruelnatalie @bencookisagod @abovethyfold @mycollectionofnuts @gayrightsansa  @dorkydavina

#racetrack higgins x reader #racetrack higgins #newsies #newsies imagine #race x reader #newsies x reader #race higgins #finch #jojo de la guerra #albert dasilva #happy halloween :) #as always come tell me what you think!! #racetrack x reader #bambi can kinda write

[andypantsx3]

war paint | 4 | encounter

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

After that, Nishimura wouldn’t stop antagonizing you.

He seemed to blame you for his loss on the training pitch, growling loudly to Hasumi about how slow you were, how you stumbled around like a defenseless lamb, how you refused to meet Bakugou’s blade with your own until threatened with discharge. He wasn’t wrong, but you still felt like his loss was his own doing - if he were as good at swordwork as he claimed, he wouldn’t have needed a partner to best the captain.

This didn’t stop him from ratcheting up his hostility, however. The bugs in your bed soon became small animals, and it seemed that every time Captain Bakugou’s back was turned, you found yourself tripping over an ankle or stumbling from an elbow in your back.

You’d borne his antics quietly up until now, for fear of Captain Bakugou finding you out and delivering on his threats from the mess hall. But when Kaminari and Sero began tossing you anxious, worried looks, you knew that Nishimura’s actions had to stop. If other soldiers were catching on, it would only be a matter of time until Captain Bakugou took notice, and then both of you would be done for.

One evening, you pulled back your covers to find a rat splayed in your sheets, and that was the moment you snapped.

“Nishimura,” you growled, using a shirt to grab the rat and throwing it at him in disgust. “Outside, right now!”

You stalked out of the dorms, out into the still evening air of spring. A warm breeze blew around you as Nishimura exited the dormitory after you.

“This stops now,” you said, seething.

He ran a hand through his dark hair and pinned you with a disinterested look. “Or what? You’ll run to Captain Bakugou?”

You gritted your teeth. “Bakugou is the last person we need finding out about this, which is why you need to knock it off. What happens if he conducts a random bunk check and finds those?”

Nishimura smirked and your temper flared. “Scared, L/N?”

Your hands balled into fists. “Nishimura, you’re going to stop this right fucking now or I’m going stop it myself.”

Nishmura raised a dark eyebrow. “I look forward to you trying. You do anything to me, and I’ll do much worse to you.”

A frustrated noise escaped you and you opened your mouth to reply, but you were cut off by the soft tread of a boot nearby. Swearing, you shoved Nishimura back through the door, following him quickly and pulling it closed behind you. Soldiers weren’t allowed out of the barracks after hours and you had no doubt you’d be subjected to a punishment worse than extra training if you were caught out fighting with Nishimura after dark.

Nishimura scoffed and turned his back to you, striding back down the hall to your shared bunkroom. You lingered near the door, listening closely for any sound of the person outside. Silence rang in your ears, and as long moments passed, you finally felt yourself relax. You took a steadying breath and leaned heavily against the wall.

Suddenly, the door handle was ripped from your grasp, swinging wide open.

“Going somewhere?” Captain Bakugou smirked down at you, his crimson eyes bright even in the dark. Even a step down, he still stood half a head taller than you, and again the power of his presence rolled over you like a thunderstorm.

You felt your mouth drop open and you scrambled upright. “N-no, Captain! I was just...uh…”

He raised a blonde eyebrow, and the shift of his features distracted you. You were suddenly struck by the ridiculous thought that he was so terribly handsome - or would be if he wasn’t so utterly terrifying. You wondered dumbly why this man was unmarried, shouting after a battalion of guardsmen when he could just as well be tucked up in his marquisate with some count’s pretty daughter.

You doubted he could be so horrible to his fellow noblemen, not if he didn’t want to start an armed conflict, so surely his personality wouldn’t be such a deterrent to the ladies of the court…so why then was he here?

“Sure are taking your sweet time to come up with an excuse, pretty boy,” Bakugou leered down at you. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about two people arguing outside just now, would you? Something about not wanting Captain Bakugou to find out.”

You gaped at him. “S-sir?”

Bakugou leaned down, smirking, his mouth hovering by your ear. This close, you could feel the heat of him, and smell something sweet and smokey. Your brain emptied in a combination of fear and, stupidly, the thrill of a man so close.

“You have five seconds to get back to your bunk, soldier,” he said softly, his breath whispering over the shell of your ear. Your thoughts slammed back into you with a sudden urgency and you scrambled back from him.

“Yes, sir!” you yelped, turning tail and sprinting back to your room. You stumbled over to your bed in the dark, climbing into it with your heart hammering. Your mind raced and you strained your ears to listen for him, wondering wildly if he would follow. He’d overheard your conversation, or part of it. He couldn’t know what you were hiding from him, though, could he? Otherwise he would have followed up on his threats from the mess hall, wouldn't he?

Silence settled over the dorm, however, and you sat there, staring into the dark. The only sound was the puff of your own nervous breaths, and after what seemed like hours, your heartbeat began to slow again. Minutes more and you finally released a sigh, letting your body relax into your sheets. Exhaustion washed over you like a warm wave, and despite yourself, your felt your eyes flutter shut. You turned your head to the pillow, and let yourself be tugged carefully into sleep.

As you finally drifted off, you thought you noted the soft snick of a door closing.

You left the barracks late the next evening to begin your patrol, glad to see Sero’s friendly face waiting for you in the palace courtyards.

If anything, Nishimura had been more unbearable the day after, hovering over you incessantly and tracking your every movement with a hawkish eye. Similarly, you felt like Bakugou lurked behind every corner, ready to spring closed like a trap over you and Nishimura, a discharge on his lips and an explosion building in his hand. As the day passed, you felt the tension mounting at your temples, and when evening finally rolled around, you were unbearably relieved to finally be separated from Nishimura, both of you assigned to separate patrol routes within the palace.

“Why do you look like this patrol is the happiest moment of your entire life?” Sero wondered as you approached, grinning widely.

You scowled up at him, knocking into his gangly arm. “I can’t be happy to walk the castle with a friend?”

“Aww, we’re friends,” Sero cooed, patting your head condescendingly. “Thanks, little guy.”

You brushed him off. “Ugh, I take it back. Don’t talk to me for the rest of patrol.”

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. His choppy bangs fell over his forehead in dark spikes. “Something on your mind?”

You sighed, fingers picking absently at the end of your sleeves. “Nishimura’s been more awful than ever and Captain Bakugou’s on to us. I think he overheard us arguing outside last night.”

Sero nodded thoughtfully. “He hear anything specific?”

You bit your lip. “I’ve been running the argument over in my head. We didn’t explicitly talk about fighting. I think he just overheard that we didn’t want him finding out,” you let out a heavy breath, “which could be worse…”

Sero gave you a sympathetic look as you rounded the corner into the castle proper. “You’re still here, though, aren’t you? Maybe he’s giving you a final chance.”

You snorted. The day Katsuki Bakugou gave anyone a chance, you would strip naked and announce your gender to him yourself. A snowball had better chances in the inner circles of hell than you did of receiving Bakugou’s mercy.

“He’s probably waiting until he can think of the most painful way to slowly torture a confession out of someone,” you said and Sero winced.

“It was nice knowing you, L/N,” he said. A silence fell over you after that, both of you contemplating your unfortunate fate at the hands of your captain. You trudged companionably through the halls, peering into offices and saluting nobility as you passed them.

You couldn’t help but notice the nobles within the castle looked a different class from Bakugou altogether - their clothes bright and their faces round with good food and easy living. Bakugou, however, seemed to live in well-worn boots and the starched collar of his captain’s uniform, and the angular planes of his face spoke to years of hard training and meticulous service. The only thing that seemed to put him on equal footing with these nobles was his natural aura of incredible command.

You were wondering again what drove him to become the commander of the castle forces when you and Sero peered into a darkened office. The room belonged to the master of coin, and even in the dim light you could see it was lavishly appointed, with a huge oak desk that dominated the center of the room, vaulted ceilings, and ornate gold molding creeping along the walls.

You gave the room a cursory once over, then turned to make your way back to your route, until a quiet rustle disturbed the silence. You halted, grabbing Sero’s lanky arm.

He gave you a wide-eyed look, and you both turned back to the desk. There was a quiet sound, like a careful breath.

“Hello?” Sero said. “Is anyone here?”

Silence pressed down on you.

“Come out and we won’t hurt you,” you tried, feeling your hand sliding over the hilt of your sword.

There was another rustle, and a dark shape materialized from behind the desk. You bit down on a swear.

“Who are you?” Sero asked, but the figure stayed silent, simply standing there.

You unsheathed your sword, wincing at the loud ringing slide of the metal cutting through the ominous silence. “It could be the spy. Get the captain, Sero.”

Sero looked at you nervously. “I’d rather not leave you.”

You brandished your sword. “You’re faster, and we need to take them in. Be quick.”

He regarded you for another moment then took a step back, slipping out of the room. You heard the loud slap of his boots as his pace picked up in the hall, leaving you alone with the figure.

You peered closely at them, noting the way their dark hood fell over their face. It completely covered the figure, revealing no detail except their height and general shape. They were reasonably tall, and you thought they must be a man, judging from their square shoulders and imposing stature.

“Who are you?” you asked again. They stayed silent and still before you.

“Why are you here?” you tried again. They said nothing, but they took a slow step out from behind the desk, the dark fabric of their cloak swishing softly.

You took a step back. “Stay where you are.”

The figure paid you no heed, taking another step toward you. You held your sword out in front of you, feeling your pulse jump in your throat.

Almost faster than you could see, the figure’s cloak moved. There was a flash of something bright red in your vision, and then they were whipping out a sword, striking out at your own blade.

You gasped as the shock of their strike rang up your arm and you pushed them off with all your strength. They took a step back then raised their arm overhead for another blow, coming down on you fast. You parried, ducking out of the way.

You tried to force them onto the back foot but they were just slightly too quick, catching the swipe you aimed at their side. There was a clatter from the hall outside the room, and the figure’s head raised, angling towards the door. They whipped their sword up, slamming into yours with unbearable strength, and knocked you clean to the floor.

You scrambled onto your hands, grasping at your sword to defend yourself, but they were already whirling around, the tails of their cloak snapping the air behind them.

“Stop!” you shouted, but they had already raised themselves onto the desk, leaping onto the sill of the large window behind it, kicking it open and breaking the lock. Then they leapt, disappearing off the ledge into the dark night.

Swift footsteps sounded in the hall and Sero’s gasping breaths came at the doorway.

“L/N!” he said and you whirled around, breathing heavily yourself. A head of unruly blonde hair appeared at Sero’s shoulder, and Bakugou's eyes darted quickly around the room before narrowing in on you.

“The window!” you shouted, gesturing at it. “He knocked me down and jumped out.”

Both their heads whipped up to look at the clattering window panes, the latch hanging loosely from the left side, flapping limply in the breeze. Bakugou crossed to the window, planting a foot up on the desk to push himself onto the ledge and peering outside.

You tried to ignore the way his thighs bunched powerfully in his breeches as he did so. Now was so not the time.

“You okay?” Sero asked kindly, helping you to your feet.

You nodded. “Yes. He didn’t have enough time to hurt me, just pushed me over and ran.”

Bakugou turned back to you, fixing you with an unblinking crimson stare. The hair on your arms stood up at the intensity of his focus. “What did he look like?” he demanded.

You shook your head. “I couldn’t see. He wore a cloak and it covered everything. He was tall, maybe just shorter than you, but that was all I could tell.”

Bakugou’s mouth twisted in a scowl. “How did he move?”

You thought for a moment. “He was faster than me - trained in basics, I think. He used a lot of the standard strikes we go through in drills. And he was notably...violent? He put tons of power into each blow, he was definitely trying to kill.”

You could feel Sero shudder behind you.

Bakugou regarded you impassively, eyes flicking up and down over you. “Every time something happens, it seems like you’re involved, pretty boy. Want to tell me why that is?”

Your heart leapt into your throat. “What? No, I didn’t--! Sero was with me, I--!”

Bakugou leapt down from the desk, prowling over to you. “Not the whole time he wasn’t.”

Your eyes widened. “Captain, no! I didn’t--you think I let him escape?”

Bakugou leaned into your space, his face inches from your own. Your breathing shallowed and you froze up, locked in place as if by some unseen force. His eyes were so, so red, burning into you like hot embers. You felt like he could see straight through you to your skeleton, the ferocity of his focus carving through you like a hot knife through butter.

“You tell me, pretty boy,” he said, so quiet that you could barely hear it, even scant inches from him. It was a disturbing turnaround from his usual violent screaming. “I hear you begging your little heart out to keep me from finding something out and then this happens?”

Your stomach dropped. “Captain, I swear I wouldn���t.”

He smirked. “Or maybe, you’re just so incapable a soldier that you couldn’t help but let him escape. Which is it?”

Anger crashed over you like a river breaking through a dam. “I did my best, sir," you said slowly, meeting his eye. "I didn't choose to let him go.”

Bakugou considered you for a moment, scarlet eyes darting over your face like he was cataloguing your every feature. Finally he drew back from you, pushing you into Sero’s chest.

“Take the shrimp back to the barracks,” he said dismissively, turning back to the room. He scanned over its contents with a keen eye. “I’m done with you.”

Sero saluted, gently taking your elbow. “Come on, L/N,” he said quietly.

You bit your lip and let him steer you towards the door, trying to quell your anger. Before you could exit, however, Bakugou called back over his shoulder.

“Careful what you do next, pretty boy,” he said, the hint of a sneer in his voice. “I’ll be watching you.”

With that, Sero tugged you from the room and you followed him closely back towards the barracks, Bakugou’s threat weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Fucking great.

#bakugou x reader #fanfic #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki

[soulwillower]

heart eyes • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: no ;)

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem receiving), body worship!!, fluff, road trip w the losers, underage drinking, body shots, praise kink bc its me, a lil dirty talk, this one is kinda tame, its fluffy :) ALSO THIS IS SO UNEDITED SORRY

i was going through all my writing and i found this smut i wrote a while ago!! im p sure its the first smut i ever wrote n i never posted it, i figured i would rn :)

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

6.2k words lol

♡

“i mean this trip would’ve been fun, no matter what. listen! guys, i love you! and... and i fucking love that we don’t always have to be inebriated to have fun.” stan exclaims, gangly limbs sprawled on the floor as ben starts giggling. stan pays no mind, “but listen, listen. i am soooo happy that we brought this stuff though, you know?” stan continues to babble on drunkenly, eliciting giggles from all the kids in the room. he’s waving an almost empty bottle of smirnoff. you giggle softly.

thankfully, ben had actually managed to sweet talk a coworker from the diner in order to score the losers a few handles of alcohol, and you’d nearly finished off the smirnoff and all are a few hearty swigs into the bottle of strawberry burnett’s and fireball.

your cheeks are very red.

you know your cheeks are burning.

but bill’s loose arm around your waist has your skin burning even hotter. you don’t want to think of it as anything more than platonic, because with a quick glance to your right, you see his other arm holding eddie in the same fashion. you're just friends, and always have been.

bill is just a very outgoing and flirty person when drunk.  

and if you had voiced this aloud, bill denbrough would probably have had to agree. he barely felt his arm where it lay across eddie, but his arm that was cradling you feels like it is dead weight.

god, he’s got it so fucking bad for you. the conversation lulls as a familiar tune plays through the speaker, making most losers scrunch their nose and laugh. y/n and richie, as always, have other plans.

not even a measure into the song, richie screeches and pulls you into his chest, already swaying you as your alluring voices blend together as perfectly as they always do.

the two drunkenly sing together for the entire duration of the song, serenading each other in a sweet, albeit weird (in a way, bill decides, that only richie and you can achieve) fashion. the lanky boy twirls you around, and you're giggling and laughing and smiling so brightly, and the others are all smiling happily.

and bill just knows, looking from richie’s face, to stan, then mike, bev, ben, and then to eddie right next to him, that everybody in the room has just fallen a little more in love with you.

you're a fucking angel. just like heaven…

and, knowing deep down that it was highly unlikely, bill still hoped he could some day call that angel his own.

-

bill takes a moment to breathe as the seven of his best friends huddle in the weak circle they’ve formed after quite a few drinks.

the speaker plays soft music. the kind of music - you recall loudly to everyone with a smile - that ‘stanny’ plays in his own car on days in the summer when he lets you roll down the passenger side window and stick your feet out as they speed down the town roads.

“you know why-“ mike starts, interrupting himself with a hiccup. he giggles, and bill smiles. “-you know why i love you?” he says, question directed at ben. ben chuckles, face red from the contents of his near empty cup, and shrugs.

“no, wait, i’m not drunk enough for the sappy stuff.” you whine, biting your lip as you glances over to bill.

he averts his eyes, chastising himself in his head immediately after for being a little schoolboy.

“fine, y/l/n. truth or dare?” mike says with a cheeky smile. richie hollers and you scoff, shaking your head. across the room, eddie does the same.

“c’mon, mikey… i haven’t played that since sophomore year.” you say, face revealing a teasing smile which betrays your tone. bev shrugs, leaning back into ben’s chest. “dunno, could be fun.” she says.

bill watches closely as y/n sends a long look to bev, who shoots her best friend a suggestive glance.

bill wishes sometimes that he could hear beverly and y/n’s thoughts and secret conversations, but after a flash memory of the time when he walked in (after listening to silence for nearly three minutes before entering) on the two girls staring at the other in complete silence, he shivers and retracts that wish.

those girls were creepily telekinetic.

y/n’s sigh pulls bill back to earth. “fine.” you say, rolling your eyes and sounding bored. bill knew better than to believe y/n could really be bored. he stares at your body as you take a hefty swig from your cup, wiping your mouth and slurring, “truth.”

“out of all the people in this room, whose clothing style would you choose to swap with?” mike asks after some moments of silence. you look like you're thinking very, very hard and this makes bill laugh in drunken stupor. his friends shoot him a confused look, but attention quickly lies back on y/n.

“stan, maybe. or eddie bear.” y/n says, flopping into eddie’s lap, making him blush and card his fingers through your hair. “I love all those cute shorts.” you say, throwing a wink in richie’s direction.

bill has to laugh at the expression on the curly haired boy’s face. he has to admit, though, that eddie looks fucking great in those shorts. the two boys both respond idly, though, and the game continues, getting dumber and more risqué the more drinks they share.

mike admits to wearing briefs over boxers, bev admits that the first girl she kissed was y/n. ben has to jump into the broken hot tub, and eddie takes a body shot off of richie.

"bill, who do you think is the best kisser?" bev smirks, shooting a look that he doesn't understand but, on a much more transcendental level, understands too well.

"if you don't say me, i'll be mad." richie says, making kissy faces that make ben push the side of his face away with a chuckle. bill laughs lightly, but his lips move quicker than his brain. "y/n, probably."

seven pairs of eyes land on him and he blinks, face heating until he's surely a tomato. "wh-what? you a-asked." he says awkwardly, and to change the subject, stan clears his throat, "y/n's turn!"

bill shoots him a grateful look, but stan gives him a stare that screams make a move, dumbass.

"okay, dare." you mumble, cheeks slightly dark and a sweet grin on your lips.

“'kay. i dare you...” richie trails off as something catches his drunken eyesight away in the kitchen. he starts to giggle to himself, then. “take a body shot off of bill.” he says, pointing a bony finger at the innocent girl to bill’s left.

bill’s face pales at this, but the liquid courage has him pulling off his shirt at the encouragement of the others merely moments later.

“i’ve yet to take an actual body shot before.” y/n mumbles, explaining how you've always done them off shoulders or necks.

“lick, shoot, suck.” bill mumbles, staring at the ceiling. bill hears bev giggle quietly.

“don’t forget that last part, y/n.” richie piped up from across the room, the words being followed by a thud and a soft grunt.

“i couldn’t if i tried, rich.” you mumbles as your face comes into view. bill can only smirk up at you when he feels liquid pour into his navel.

“he’s gotta be flexing right now. there’s no way he’s that naturally ripped!” richie complains, his voice looted in a joke. ben laughs as bev slaps richie’s arm.

"sh-shut up, richie." bill mutters with an easy grin.

bill slips a lime wedge into his mouth and his tongue falls upon the rind, tasting the muted citrus flavor as salt is sprinkled in the stretched of his skin between his belly button and his waistband.

 if he wasn't drunk, he'd be a blushing mess.

and he has to try harder than he's ever tried for anything in his entire life to not get hard as you suddenly lean over him, your hot tongue poking out to lick a stripe up the salt.

 he suppresses a groan and then you shoot the shot from his stomach, everyone screaming and cheering and laughing. you're laughing too, and bill's shocked into a stupor by how casually and effortlessly beautiful you are.

you're leaning towards his face now, a soft smile on your face as your lips fall to pluck the lime from his mouth. but before you pull all the way back, he feels your soft lips touch his around the wedge and his whole body ignites, cheeks turning red.

but just as quickly as you were there, you're gone and he's left with the faint taste of lime and a heaving chest, the feeling of your tongue on his body ingrained into his mind.

-

it was about thirty minutes later that all the losers retreated to their rooms to pass out, bill following you a few steps behind. of course, when eddie and bev had planned the sleeping arrangements, they'd insisted that you two share a room. not that he's complaining, not at all.

bill barely gets a minute into the door before you're turning and stepping closer to him. his hands fall to your arms, in his mind as an excuse to steady you, but he knows its because he really just wants to feel you in his arms.

“do you really want to kiss me?” you purr, voice uncharacteristically quiet. and wow, that was out of left field. bill almost laughs, but refrains in case the inebriated girl in his arms took it the wrong way.  “yes, y/n. a-always.”

you beam, a slight hiccup escaping your cherry lips as you get on your tippy toes. you're still half a head shorter than him even on your tips.

his heart thumps as he takes in your beautiful features up close, and he longs to feel your lips against his.

but, instead he shakes his head gently through his drunken state. your face falls and you step back. bill swears the angel’s wings start to droop and wilt as you seem to sober up slightly. you look sad and embarrassed and bill’s heart shatters a fragment.

“y-you’re drunk.” he says lamely, wishing that own his drunk eyes would get on board with his brain and quit running over this girl’s beautiful face and enticing curves. “w-we both a-are.” he adds, biting his lip.

you huff, turning around and bending over to pull sweats out of a drawer. “okay,” you mumble and he can’t read your voice much but he can tell you're upset.

in a drunk thought, he realizes he may never fully understand you.

bill bites his lip at the sight of your perky ass displayed like that in front of him and he wants to smack himself as he feels the familiar heat in his abdomen, turning around to give you privacy as you change.

he doesn’t turn around, as much as you both want him to.

richie once claimed that bill was hornier than he was, and while then he’d laughed especially hard at that claim, bill currently cursed richie a million times for being correct.

“would you reconsider if we were sober?” when a hand lands on bill’s shoulder, he turns to see you staring up at him, wearing a plain blue and white baseball tee and sweats.

it’s quiet for a moment. y/n holds your breath. bill himself lets out a breath after a moment. “you’re fucking beautiful.”

it’s not an answer to your question, even, but he says it before he even realizes it and the look on your face suddenly makes bill wish he could say things like that without stuttering forever if it meant it made you feel like that.

you turn bright red, head dropping down bashfully. you fail to hide your smile drop, though, and it makes bill feel slightly sick. “you don’t have to say that bill.” you whisper, sounding insecure. and then you slip under the dark green duvet of the bed.

bill tells himself that if he were sober, he’d speak up; have the courage to say all the things to you that his mind is constantly screaming.

you are fucking beautiful, everybody knows it..

all our friends see it...

mike once told me you were the hottest person in the school and that was before we even met you, now he also claims you’re the most thoughtful person in existence...

ben thinks you might be the smartest person in our generation...

bev is confident that you are going to change the world some day...

richie calls you his platonic soulmate...and says that you have second most  rockin’ bod (second only because he’s trying to mack on eddie)...

eddie tells me every day how much he looks up to you and how much he admires your strength...

stan once told me that he’d marry you in a heartbeat...

(i think i’m falling for you...)

(and i hope you feel the same...)

your eyes look so innocent...but i know you’re not...

your lips look like they taste like candy...

you are so fucking pretty...

i want to put my dick in your mouth-

his last thought snaps him out of his drunken stupor and he quickly pulls on flannel pants and tugs off his shirt, not missing y/n’s eyes on his bare torso as he pulls on a shirt.

bill. you’re drunk, go to sleep, asshole.

he lays on the edge of the bed, turning off the lamp light and rubs his eyes. your eyes are closed, and you lay on your side, back facing him.

“i’m lucky t’have you, billy. we all are.” you mumble, and bill doesn’t even fight the bashful smile that climbs onto his face. you can’t seem him, anyways.

“g’night, billy.” you finish dreamily, snuggling the comforter and making bill swoon in the dark.

“g-goodnight, y/n.” he says quietly.

-

the next night was much more tame; the losers were worn out after a day of exploring and decided to go to the outdoor pool in the backyard of the b&b you'd rented. 

you sit on the couch by yourself, knowing bill was in your room because he didn't feel like swimming.  

but you were nervous to go in there, because you and bill hadn't been alone since last night when you'd basically confessed to him. and yeah, he'd sort of confessed back, but you could tell he was just trying to be considerate and not make it awkward for you or the rest of the losers.

with a sigh, you rising to your feet and padding to the closed door. soft music plays from the other end of the door and you smile as you hear bill hum quietly to bowie.

when you push the door open, bill’s figure is silhouetted by the faint orange glow that soaks the bedroom in gold and yellow light. crossing through the doorway softly, bill lifts his head and smiles softly.

you bite your lip at bill, who is sat dumbly on the edge of the bed, and it's quiet for a few moments but you know you're both thinking the same thing.

he stands to meet you only a few paces from his doorway, and he's so close to you that you have to tilt your head and stare up at him through dark lashes. his breath comes out like a whisper, and you feel desperate to know his lips again. but not like last night. you want all of him now - always. sober, drunk, sick, healthy, forever.

“bill..” you start, doe eyes searching his, as if trying to read him. he looks like he doesn’t know what to say because you both know the reason that your friends made you sleep together on this trip in this dim room and why he’s looking at you the way he is.

“please...” he whispers, a half smile on his face. his own voice cuts through the faint music playing through the silence. your lips lift in a smile at this. bill thinks you look the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

he didn’t say anything but a plea, and yet you both know exactly what he’s saying. 

your heart soars, and you grab his neck and he crashes his lips to yours desperately, letting out a quiet moan of relief.

you’ve never had somebody like him. of the few relationships you’d managed to keep up for a decent amount of time, you've never known someone like you know him - he's your best friend, the most important person in your life, and your first real love.

that used to scare you, but as you reach your hand to grasp his neck and pull him closer, you realize that this feeling in your stomach may not be as dangerous and innapropriate as previously thought.

because bill denbrough kisses like he’s taking his dying breath, like he’s drowning and you're the last bit of air left in the entire world. he kisses you like a starved writer desperate for a muse. his adamant tongue parted your shaking lips and sent tremors along your skin, as you clutch his chest.

his hands start on your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones as he tilts your head gently to deepen the kiss.

slowly, just as slowly as you fell for him, he slides his hands down your sides and grips your lower back with one large hand, the other squeezing your hip as he pulls your hips to him.

when you pull away for a second, he’s got an earth shattering, face-blinding smile on his lips that almost makes you want to cry.

you've never felt this breathless in your life, especially just by one boy, and all you can do is allow him to press you against dresser and catch your lips with his. his lips slot against yours hotly, moving with a kind of boyish expertise that makes your fingers tingle from all the way up to where they're nestled into his hair.

his plump red lips, slick and glossy, pull away from you and you watch with your hands carded through his auburn hair as he ducks slightly lower and kisses your jawline and your legs feel like jelly because you cannot believe it's happening. a song still plays through bill’s speakers.

one of your hands runs down his clothed chest and you gasp, having to bite back a squeal of pleasant surprise when one of his hands squeezes your ass. at your yelp of pleasure, bill chuckles and then his teeth bite down on the hollow of your throat.

he lifts his head to meet your eyes but doesn’t apologize, instead opting to shoot you a cocky lift of a brow at your reaction.

but before you can even roll your eyes, his lips are back to working magic and you're breathless, the heat in your stomach coiling and making you desperate.

you quietly moan his name as his tongue follows in his teeth’s wake; your neck slowly becoming the most beautiful piece of art bill has ever created.

eventually he raises his head again, his green eyes stuck on your neck, admiring the thunderstorm he’s started, and its everything you can do to not collapse when you get the courage to push bill softly and walk him towards his bed, your lips pressing needily to his.

bill gently spins on his heels around you and pushes you instead onto the mattress, and you're suddenly laying below him with wide eyes.

and you're grabbing his flannel and tugging him on top of you.

for a while, as bill holds himself up above you with his forearms, all that either of you can hear is the melodic tune of heart eyes by coin flowing from bill’s speakers and the sweet noise of their hands exploring each other.

honestly, the first time was unintentional.

while trying to move up, bill slowly rocks his hips against you. you gasp at the feeling of his semi-hard on pressing against your core, and bill almost moans at the noise of you alone.

a small moan escapes your throat again when he does it once more and he pulls away, clearly trying to hide his smug expression.

his eyes trail to your button up, admiring the trail of blossoming hickies reaching from below your jaw to the hem of your sweater, near the top skin of your breasts.

“c-can i?” he asks softly, and your face flushes pink as you nod shyly.

his hands reach out and slowly he undoes the buttons of the sweater, lips pressing sweetly on each bit of skin exposed as he slips the sweater off your frame. his lips against your skin leaves goosebumps in their wake.

you swoon at this action, but as the garment falls from your shoulders, you cross your arms and looks away softly.

“you don’t have t-to huh-hide from me, sweetheart.”

a piano melody plays softly in the background as bill coos quietly, turning your jaw with his forefinger so you're forced make eye contact. “hey. you’re s-so perfect. a-and i’m so fucking l-lucky.” he whispers sincerely.

and even through the expiring sunlight, the golden streams illuminating your face reveal a smile- a genuine, toothy, blushy, bashful smile that makes bill beam in return.

“please. luh-let me show you how m-much you mean.” he whispers.

you're glad you have enough self control to not burst out crying at bill’s words. if you were unsure if he wanted you before, this was the confirmation you knew you didn’t even need. and you love it all the same.

“please,” you whine softly, blushing harder at the pure look of love and lust on bill’s handsome face.

as his lips and hands flutter around your torso, you take in his figure and the god-like aura created by the music and the atmosphere of the world around you.

one word keeps circulating through your head, and as his fingers softly pinch your left nipple, you mewl and pull him up for a passionate kiss, deciding to let the word sit pretty in your mind.

you trails your fingers along the hem of his shirt and he leans back to let you unbutton it slowly. your lips find themselves against his hot skin, trailing in small kisses and bites down his chest as they follow your nimble hands. you cherish his smooth skin and taught muscles.

he soon turns to catch your lips with his, this time feverishly and deeply. he feels hungry against your lips, his tongue winning dominance instantly and smoothing around your mouth as he sighs against you, his hips rocking against you as your hands roam from his hair to his back and chest.

he pulls away, hands trailing down to your jeans, lips following his hands yet again, slower this time.

you whimper quietly at the feeling of white hot pleasure coursing through you and bill shoots you a smirk. “e-everybody is o-outside, y/n/n. we can be as loud as w-we want.” he says in a low tone, and you bite your lip in bliss. you feel yourself get wetter at his words, his voice sounding like royal velvet.

he stops his lips right at the button of your pants. “do yo-you want this?” he asks, his eyes welcoming, and you knows that if, for some absurd reason, you didn’t want him right now (or ever, honestly) you could be honest and he would be forever respectful of that.

“yes, bill. please.” you plead, hands carding into his hair as you watche him smile from in between your legs.

you watch as he unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off and tossing them somewhere across the room. you have to bite back a giggle at the boy's eagerness and he bites his lip as he stares up at you, green eyes sparkling and true as his head sinks lower.

he kisses the inside of your knees slowly, trailing his lips closer and closer to the apex of your thighs where you need him the most before switching to the other side. you groan at his teasing and his quiet huff of a laugh leaves his lips and fans over your thigh.

he’s done this before, it’s obvious.

and it’s probably also very obvious to bill that you are not used to this kind of praise, this kind of approval, and this much intimate attention on your own body. he loves it - loves that he can finally show you how you deserve to feel after years of watching you, his best friend, and waiting for the day that he could put his lips on yours.

his lips finally press a soft kiss over your red lace-clothed clit, and you let out a strangled moan, hips jilting involuntarily at the tease.

his eyes meet yours and all he does is wink.

cocky bastard, you think as bill slides your lace undies off your legs.

it suddenly dawns on you that you're completely naked and vulnerable in front of this boy, and yet somehow you feel more comfortable and at home than you've ever felt in a situation like this.

and you're not totally sure when exactly that fucking word starts to circulate in your mind again- perhaps it is when he licks the first, bold stripe from your entrance up to your clit, or maybe it’s when he uses one hand to gently pin your hips down while his tongue does wicked tricks. or perhaps it’s when he first slips a single finger in.

or maybe that word has been there, hiding in your mind, on the tip of your tongue, the whole time.

but you suddenly can’t think of anything besides bill, because he’s building a rhythm with his tongue and fingers and you know that if anyone is awake in the house besides you, they’d know exactly what was happening in your room currently. and you can't find it to care as you look down at bill, eyes staring back at you with a cocky look on his face as his face is buried in your heat.

your wild moans pick up in pitch and you clench around his fingers tightly, the feeling of bliss having never felt this strong before. your toes curl and you let out whimpers, one hand tangling in his lush hair and the other twirling in the sheets.  

his fingers pick up pace, curling and pumping in and out of you as he sucks your clit.

“bill, fuck, i’m close-“ you start, groaning in pleasure as he smirks slightly. you whimper when he pulls back, a devious smirk playing on his shiny, slick lips, his fingers sliding out of your heat. you groan at the sight of him, shirtless and hair missed up from your fingers, his mouth sinfully shiny from your juices.

he reaches his hand up to you and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking up yourself from him. he watches with his mouth slightly open and eyes dark. "g-good girl, y/n."

the sharp warmth in your chest and the heat straight down to your center show you how much you like his words, and you preen when he tucks your hair behind your ear. "you taste p-perfect, baby." he whispers into your ear, your jaw going slack in shock that words like that would dare fall from his lips, your thighs clenching together. you bite back a moan at the feeling, wanting nothing more than for bill to fill you up and make you scream his name.

it doesn’t get long before you pull him out of his boxers, and soon you're rolling a condom onto his hard cock.

you almost, almost blush when your mouth waters at the sight of bill’s cock, hard, leaking with precum, and much larger than you'd anticipated.

rich was fucking right, you think, they do call him big bill for a reason.

he’s looking at you like you're the only thing that matters as you pull him onto you. he's letting out breathy moans that you realize you could listen to on repeat forever.

but suddenly he’s pushing you hard against the mattress, kissing you like a sailor returning to see his first love, and he’s lining himself up at your entrance, slowly teasing your entrance with his tip. you whimper at the feeling, your over-sensitive clit throbbing as you tug at his shoulders. he grins into your mouth. "u-se your words, baby." he mutters, and you go red.

“god, bill, please fuck me. need it so bad." you whimper breathlessly. he smiles at you, kissing your nose.

"i kn-know you do." he mutters and you want to smack the back of his head but then he pushes in agonizingly slow and you're gasping.  simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, eyes staring deep into each other. his are lidded and yours are blown wide, taking him and whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you out.  

you can feel the blush on your cheeks when you realize this is one of the most intimate experiences you've ever had in your life. and when bill's finally buried to the hilt inside you, you let out a low moan at the feeling.

thank god he warmed you up so well, because he was big and felt perfect buried inside you like this, his lips ghosting over your face as you clench your legs around his hips. his fingers rise to roll on your nipple and you let out a gasp of pleasure followed by a small moan of his name. he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“please, bill, move. please, fuck, i need it-“ you beg, eyes closed in need and lust.

you feel a strong hand grab your jaw suddenly, and your voice stops as you open your eyes to be met with deep green ones shining fiercely.

“look at me wh-while i fuck you.” he says, more a command, and you involuntarily moan at his words. 

 the power he has over you feeling foreign and incredibly enticing. never did you expect for bill denbrough to be anything more than vanilla in bed - but you're all here for it as you look back at him submissively, trying to hide your smile.

you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out just as slowly as he eased in, before pushing soundly back into you and coaxing a long, low moan from your lips. your head dips back, your spine curving and eyes fluttering before snapping back to his. he starts to thrust as you've adjusted to his size and you can feel him filling you up perfectly, the feeling euphoric. your toes curl in pleasure and you determine that his melodic moan itself could push you over the edge right now.

he builds a rhythm, your legs tightening around his waist as his lips catch yours in a searing kiss. "y-you're so fucking g-good for me, huh?" he asks, but the feeling of him fucking you into the mattress renders you almost speechless, your lips in an 'o' shape as you watch him. you nod, whining as your hands roam his chest and slide to his back.

"god, yes, bill. don't stop," you say breathlessly, whimpering as you pull him down to you by the neck. he kisses you soundly as he pounds into you, his hands roaming your body and making you blush.

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a couple deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your legs slightly to hit another angle. “f-fuck...” he mutters, eyes trailing over your whole body yet never shying from your face for more than a few moments.

and now the word lingers in your mouth, on the tip of your tongue, but you're in so much pleasure that you can’t form words that aren’t his own name as they leave your mouth like a prayer.

his thrusts are deep, rough, and yet somehow sensual as if he’s trying to convey thoughts or feelings through his actions, and the combination has you slamming your hand over your mouth to conceal your loud moans, eyes finding his as you remember his previous words.

his eyes make you feel more special than any other human on this earth ever has. you've had a fair share of sexual encounters, but never have you ever experienced something like this with someone like your bill denbrough.

and as one hand grasps your breast and the other holds himself above you, his lips pressing against yours like he’d die if he wasn’t touching you, bill can tell that you're close. “y-you close, baby?” he purrs in your ear, and through his thrusts you can only nod your head and mewl.

his hand suddenly grabs your hands and lift them up above your head, pinning them there and rendering you unable to move our touch him; the feeling of being restrained makes you moan wantonly, moving your hips with his. he hums deeply, a delicious sound, "oh, you l-like that, y/n/n? g-good, so g-good." and then he moans into your collarbone. his words and the feeling of him hitting the perfect spot inside you, fucking you deeper than you could imagine, has you nearing the edge.

his large thumb snakes it’s way into your mouth then, and you look up in his eyes as your lips wrap around his digit. he groans, hips stuttering inside you. "good g-girl." he mutters, eyes glued to your lips as they suck on his thumb.

he drags his thumb out of your mouth and you release with a small pop. he lowers his hand, moving it down to rub sensual figure-8’s on your clit, a stark and delicious contrast to his hip’s motions. you yelp in pleasure, your sensitive clit throbbing.

“c-cum for me.” he whispers, and you're wrecked. your climax, after a slow, burning build, hits you hard and you clench around him, moaning out his name as your eyes barely stay locked on his. your voice cracks in pleasure as your body pulses in pleasure.

bill cums not even three thrusts after, a mess of groans and your name falling from his lips. he pulls out and you quietly hiss at the sudden absence of him, watching with exhausted eyes as bill tosses his condom and turns back to you.

you're fucked out and so out of breath that all you can do is grasp bill’s hand. he smiles softly at your naked, glowing form as the last of the afternoon light seeps through the windows.

he pulls on boxers quickly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing out of the room, leaving an empty feeling in the hollow of your stomach.

you're pretty was used to the people you sleep with not wanting to stick around much, and yet you can’t help the deflation in your chest as bill leaves the room. is he going to sleep on the couch? was it that bad for him?

you pull on underwear just as he comes back in, a cup of water in his hands.

when he softly offers it to you, you tear up slightly but cover it up with a yawn. you know you've never had someone care this much about you. that word lingers on the tip of your tongue, begging to drip from your mouth like honey.

“y-you tired?” bill asks shyly, his body dipping down as he sits next to you. you wonder why bill all of the sudden is acting so shy- as if he didn’t just provide the most incredible sex of your life.

“you wore me out.” you says with a little smile as you lean slightly against him and kiss his cheek.

his cheeks blossom at the simple affection. "i love you." he says suddenly, no stutter. his eyes widen in shock as he realizes what he'd just slipped.

you turn to look at him and he's bright red, looking more scared than you've ever seen him. you can't help your smile, though. "bill... i love you too." you admit, stomach fluttering in excitement. he smiles softly, exhaling, "h-holy shit, thank god. that would have m-made the rest of this t-trip so a-awful."

you giggle, hand falling to his jaw. "i love you so much." you mutter, pulling him down with you so your heads hip the pillow, his hands falling on your bare hips as you kiss sweetly. you can't stop smiling into the kiss, and neither can he, so it's full of quiet laughs and teeth knocking, noses brushing together.

"i love y-you so much, y/n." he whispers into your lips, his mouth wide with a dopey smile. you smooth the hair from his eyes and kiss him again. "be mine, p-please."

"i already am, denbrough." you whisper softly.

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #bill is 🤤🤤 #losers x reader #losers club x reader

[retvenkos]

“this world isn’t ready for us”

requested

HOW I IMAGINE THE BASICS OF THE  MARAUDER ERA HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS…

James Potter

hogwarts years 1971-1978

james potter is indian, you cannot convince me otherwise

he has the greatest hair ever - it’s black and fluffy, and even though his father literally invented hair products, he doesn’t style it

it just naturally falls in a really beautiful way and sirius hates it

james potter is left handed, you cannot convince me otherwise

he always has smudges all over his hand and he’ll wipe the ink on remus’ face when he wants to be annoying

he’s 5′11″ (180 cm) and he had the majority of his growth spurt in his third year

he was awkward and gangly all year, and that mixed with his new crush on lily was hell in a handbasket

he eventually filled out, though, and by 5th year he wore it well

he had big round glasses because without them he’s blinder than a bat

he also  n e v e r  wore his tie - mcgonagall hated it more than anything and she would always fix his tie (with magic!) in class

she would also lecture him in that mom™ way

lily laughed at him one time because the end of the tie hit him in the face and that’s when james realized he loved the sound

also, most people have this idea that james was suave and flirted with lily all the time, but i disagree

he was an awkward mess when talking to girls and would make the most corny jokes, hoping lily would laugh

he only got good at flirting in his seventh year, after a summer of sirius teaching him how to be cool

but talking with his mates, james was an arrogant idiot.

but always respectful.

he was really good at transfiguration but absolutely terrible when it came to potions

also, i know he’s canonically an only child, but i think he has a younger sibling - probably a sister. he just has the older brother vibes. adopting his friends the way he did? only an older sibling, mom friend would ever.

Remus Lupin

hogwarts years 1971-1978

so i’ve already covered a lot about remus here but i’ll go off again

so i like to think that remus is secretly really good at drawing

we all took him for a writer but i am adamant in the idea that sirius is the poet, not him.

he can also do calligraphy - the writing on the marauders map was all him, fam

he’s also ambidextrous or at the very least able to use both hands pretty well

he’s definitely the tallest of all the marauders, coming in at a whopping 6′3″ (190.5 cm)

he was always lanky, too. james swore that one day he would be taller than remus, but it never happened

and i know we all like to think of remus as being the most studious child there ever was, but honestly,,, he was struggling every day and the reason he was constantly doing homework was because he was chronically behind in school work

i’m talking like at least a week out at all times

of course, the teachers knew why, and so they allowed him some slack, but still, he had the same expectations

but he was interested in most of his classes, and he worked on all of them equally

i think how he and lily met was that he needed a tutor because he was behind and she offered to help him

he just generally has this sad air around him, too

it was kind of a thing that he and snape shared for a while - two sad boys who were desperate to prove they belonged

and then, in their later years, they both take very different routes

oh, and because i haven’t said it enough, i love the idea of latino!remus lupin

and he could be bilingual!!!!

Sirius Black

hogwarts years 1971-1978

okay, here. is. the. thing. sirius is average height. i cannot emphasize this enough. i always see things about him being tall, but you are incorrect. he’s not super short, but he’s  a v e r a g e .

5′8″ (173 cm)

that’s still pretty good.

and while he can whine about how short he is, he is the most handsome out of all of the marauders

he has that regal look that makes his so attractive.

if he had an awkward phase, hogwarts never saw it. sirius just always looked really good.

and he did everything else to make himself look as chaotic as he could

he never once wore his school uniform correctly.

there were always buttons undone, ties pulled loose, shoe laces untied

and he acted chaotic, too

laughing overly loud

making unnecessary comments

every day he tried his hardest to be everything that his mother never let him be

as for classes, he’s one of those kids who is naturally gifted in everything (you can thank his mother for drilling him in the years prior to hogwarts) and just really doesn’t care that he has a natural aptitude

the only class he got really excited about was dada

also, i’ve seen the idea that he’s a womanizer be a thing, but,,, no?

i mean, he definitely flirts (most of the time jokingly) because it’s just another thing that can make his family upset and separate him from that image, but i don’t think he’s especially promiscuous

he’s literally a kid, guys

oh, and with every passing day, the lily and sirius friendship goes glaringly underdeveloped and it pains me - they could have been so close to each other but we just sleep on that, i guess

Peter Pettigrew

hogwarts years 1971-1978

so i get why fanon leaves peter underdeveloped, but he was important

first of all, peter is the same height as sirius 5′8″ (173 cm) and the two of them constantly argue over who is taller

they are also constantly aiming short jokes at the other, even though they are the same height??? they’re just insulting themselves.

at the very least, peter is a half-blood (i think he might have been muggleborn but then why would voldemort tolerate him, y’know?)

i like to think that he is really in touch with his muggle side - he and remus talk about muggle stuff all the time and play jokes on sirius and james who are oblivious but want to learn

peter was also really good at finding secret passages

he found the better part of the ones on the map, and maybe he knows about a few others, too

he was definitely the cartographer of the marauders map. who else would have had the skill?

he was definitely more awkward like james, and he never quite grew out of it like the rest of them

but it was okay, because his friends were fiercely loyal to him

even if it screwed them over in the end...

i also have this idea that peter was really good at games? like, gobstones and chess were his area of expertise

it’s definitely something that he would do with the other marauders when they were stressed out or sad

and he would sneak them food from the kitchens and they would just sit up and play games for a while

i think that peter was also that marauder that would check their schedules, seeing what classes they had together, and which ones they could all bail on to hang out in the forbidden forest

i also think that peter was a huge music enthusiast

he and james definitely talked about music a lot - he took james to his first concert and it was really precious

james would sing at any an all times, and peter would know all of the lyrics, singing more quietly but supplying all the words.

Lily Evans

hogwarts years 1971-1978

lily was a nervous wreck in her first year of hogwarts

but also vvv excited - she wanted to learn everything

she had a natural talent for dada and was also pretty good at potions, thanks to snape being her bff

she struggled when it came to history of magic because, y’know, she’s brand new to all of it

lily had really long, beautiful red hair ever since her first year

and, of course, those eyes

she was always very pretty, but she also got a lot of hatred because she was a muggleborn, so she struggled with herself - especially in the later years

i imagine she’s average height or maybe a little tall, definitely not short, since harry was his dad’s height

probably 5′5″ (165 cm)

also, lily was the one who gave harry all of his sass

she definitely was the one to sass james (who loved it, despite being taken aback the first few times) and she was very adamant in her beliefs

she loved her friends more than anything, of course, but she would put her foot down when she had to

i also feel like lily was a thrill seeker

it’s why she and james got along in their seventh year when they were head boy and head girl together

he probably showed her secret passages or shortcuts to places and she couldn’t bring herself to reprimand him

she’s also a little impatient

she always sips at her tea too soon, burning her tongue

or she’s tapping her foot five minutes before class ends because she’s raring to go

she also walks fast

Severus Snape

hogwarts years 1971-1978

so snape’s biggest thing is that he will not be the small fish in the big pond - he will not be picked on

and so that has screwed up some of his relationships because he will do anything to not be the last kid picked

this also means that his loyalty is only with himself (and lily, previously, but when it was him or her that had to take the fall, it was her) so he’s definitely a lone wolf

i think his slow way of talking didn’t manifest until he was in his sixth year

it was a way to be calculating - see how people react to what he’s going to say before he says it

he was definitely a wide-eyed kid

really big, sad eyes that would have made anyone feel bad for him

they went away during the end of his third year and beginning of his fourth

he traded it for pushing his head down, not allowing anyone to look him in the eye

snape was definitely a book nerd, and he used to spend all of his time in the library with lily

but after the marauders started hanging out in there (thanks, remus and lily), he had to find a new place

he wore his robes properly, and with a lot of care since he was pretty poor growing up and he was determined to wear them as long as he could

that’s where a lot of his formal aesthetic came from

also, it was a stark contrast to the marauders - where they were carefree he was uptight, where they were informal he was not. the recipe for disaster.

also, he was pretty short up until his fifth year, where he grew like a weed

at full height, he was 6′1″ (185 cm) - just tall enough to look down at james

Dorcas Meadowes

hogwarts years 1971-1978

i’m pretty sure canon agrees with me when i say that dorcas was black, and a pureblood.

her family weren’t blood supremacists, tho, they were vehemently against voldemort and she grew up with those ideals

she was sorted into ravenclaw but quickly became a friend of lily’s because they both had so much interest in school

dorcas would help her study for history of magic, and in return lily would talk to her about the muggle world

and when i say dorcas was talented, she was talented

i mean, it’s literally canon that voldemort killed dorcas personally, so she had to be a particularly skilled witch

i like to think that in her spare time, dorcas would even make her own spells - similar to snape, they were both inventors

she was very studious - studying long into the night and always reading a book or doing homework during lunch

she was definitely taking many n.e.w.t. level classes when she had the chance

she was probably the model student that the teachers were all very impressed by - she was going places

she was head girl and a prefect, sometimes working alongside remus lupin

i also think that she had a crush on marlene mckinnon

and she thought she was being obvious about it, too - going to quidditch matches? since when had she ever done anything remotely social?

she was planning on being an auror, and she was made one almost immediately after leaving school

james would always ask her for notes, and if he said they were for remus she would always give them to him because remus was a sweet kid and he wouldn’t ruin them

5′4″ (163 cm) but she packed a punch

also, she had great cheekbones. you can’t convince me otherwise.

Regulus Black

hogwarts years 1972-1979

if you were wondering where all of the tall genes went in the family, then look no further

he’s still not super tall, but he surpasses his brother, coming in at 5′11″ (180 cm), the same height as james

he also hit his growth spurt sooner, in his second year, when sirius was still short

and where sirius is overly handsome, regulus is a little less so

he’s still handsome (don’t get me wrong), just in a more... quiet way.

he’s always been a more sombre boy, with sadder eyes and lips less inclined to smile

i think he was always the more plain boy, the more overlooked boy, and that really got into his psyche at a young age

he’s also bookish - this, again, stemming back to his childhood

he was always looking for a way to top sirius, be better than him

if you wanted a boy to speak french in the hp universe, this is him

i feel like regulus would have just been really gifted with languages? he probably knows multiple and reads a lot of literature (including muggle literature - sirius got him a book once, please don’t tell his mother)

he excels in school - went all the way with potions and fell in love with alchemy in his sixth year

but while he’s intelligent, there’s a lot on his mind so he’s never super present in lectures and he doesn’t over participate

he cuts his hair short, always clean and the perfect image that his family wants

in his first two years, he tried to talk to sirius a lot and keep their relationship at something like brothers, but sirius could never understand him and regulus could never understand sirius so they drift apart by his third year

he still feels guilty about that, after all this time

oh! also! regulus is seeker for the slytherin quidditch team. it’s just a thing he does, he doesn’t super love it or anything.

Mary MacDonald

hogwarts years 1972-1979

so mary is a gryffindor a year below lily and the rest of the gang, friends with lily because she, too, was a muggleborn and lily stood up for her against some mean older boys

i headcanon mary as being latina, or maybe just from spain

either way, she comes from a big family and is a middle child

and she speaks spanish.

she’s 5′1″ (155 cm) and you know her friends use it against her all the time, short jokes galore

and she’s very outspoken amongst her friends, making giraffe jokes in retaliation, but it just never really stuck the way short jokes did

she excelled in healing magic and was definitely an ace at potions

she also really loved divination, mostly because it worked in ways that were very different than other magic

she was always braiding hair and definitely taught lily how to braid that long hair of hers

her favorite place was the gryffindor common room because it was always so alive? it reminded her of her big family, that’s for sure

oh, and if james does have a younger sister, when he meets mary macdonald, she immediately reminds him of his sister

and so the two of them quickly become a chaotic duo, singing muggle songs together but also getting on each other’s nerves just for the fun of it

Marlene McKinnon

hogwarts years 1970-1977

she’s one year older than lily but immediately sees this cute first year, lost on the stairs and adopts her

marlene is definitely the reason that lily can be so sassy, too. she’s a terrible influence, really, especially with that mouth

marlene is a gryffindor, too, and she’s definitely on the quidditch team

a chaser, probably - she most likely helped train james when he joined the team and that’s how she knows all about his crush on lily and teases them both

and she 100% gives james tips on how to talk to lily, shhh, no one tell

she has masses of curly, blonde hair and it’s constantly being pulled into a messy top knot or ponytail

she did a dare in fifth year that involved shaving her head and she did it, but immediately freaked out afterward. lily had to find her a hair growing potion, but for a week she had a shaved head that sirius teased her about mercilessly

in her defense, she thought it would be fine at the time.

she was a talented witch, but she struggled in care of magical creatures

she just wasn’t an animal person, okay?

she swears that unicorn was going to gore her.

her favorite class was astronomy - she liked to be outside, and being in the astronomy tower was pretty close to flying.

oh, and she was tall for a girl - 5′9″ (175 cm) and taller than sirius. it was a thing

she was fiercely loyal of her friends and would have been down to duel with anyone if they said anything about lily

she had a lot of siblings and she was the oldest, so it was kind of a given

marlene would have punched death eaters if given the chance

she wanted to punch snape a solid three (3) times during her school years but lily always held her back

Frank Longbottom

hogwarts years 1969-1976

frank was a gryffindor, and a rather sweet one at that

he was a pretty social guy - he had lots of friends, despite being pretty shy. he was just a generally great person to be around and he cared about people a lot. it got him places.

he was pretty tall - 6′0″ (183 cm) - and he had a kind of dorky look to him

but he cleaned up nicely, and every year he got a little better looking

neville got his awkward phase from his dad, and when alice was pregnant, frank said he would have to apologize to his boy for inheriting those longbottom genes, one day.

he really loved movies - he and alice were kind of pop culture nerds

he was a little before remus lupin’s time at hogwarts, but they would have gotten along famously, had they been closer in age

but he definitely had a soft spot for the marauders - those younger gryffindors who were funny and bright and made living in these dark times a little easier

his best class was definitely charms

he loved that class and hoped to one day teach it.

going back to hogwarts one day was always a dream of his

he was terrible at divination, though. something about looking into the future just never felt right.

Alice Longbottom

hogwarts years 1969-1976

so we never get confirmation on what alice’s maiden name was, but i’ve seen in the fandom that it’s widely regarded that it could have been alice fortescue, and i thought that was sweet and kind of just absorbed the idea

alice was a hufflepuff, and a pretty social one at that

she was constantly chewing bubble gum and talking with her large group of friends

i like to think that she always had short hair in school - a dark brown bob that kind of bounced whenever she walked

she was short - 5′2″ (157 cm) - and when she and frank got together in their sixth year, he would always hold her hand and guide her through the crowded halls

she got where she was going so much faster that way

i like to think she’s east asian, or maybe half, on her mother’s side

she was best at herbology, and it surprised everyone when she turned out to be really good at combat magic?

turns out she was great at non-verbal magic and doing magic without her wand

she had lots of practice when helping the plants thrive in herbology - she unwittingly used magic a lot to help them grow

she had so much magical potential, neville definitely inherited that

i also think that she was the more forgetful one out of her and frank, and that’s why neville’s also kind of forgetful, himself.

Narcissa Malfoy

hogwarts years 1966-1973

so let’s get one thing straight - draco gets his incredible bone structure from his mother

this girl had the greatest cheekbones this world has ever seen

and it gave her a very regal look that would have appeared cold on anyone else

but narcissa was kind, okay? she was soft.

also narcissa is queen at wizards chess and strategy - she beat amos diggory’s winning streak in her third year - but she’s also really great at history

and it interests her!

even though lucius was a year ahead of her, he’d always ask her if he didn’t want to do his homework, offering her anything in return

most of the time it was white chocolate or some kind of cream filled pastry - she always had a bit of a sweet tooth, and lucius is her greatest enabler

her worst class was probably herbology or care of magical creatures

she didn’t like working with her hands. she said it wasn’t very “becoming”

andromeda taught narcissa how to do her makeup in her third year, and she picked it up fairly quick, very partial to a dark lip

andromeda also taught her how to do hair, but narcissa preferred to wear it down when she was younger

she’s said to be tall, so i imagine she clocks in at about 5′8″ (173 cm), taller with her usual heels

Lucius Malfoy

hogwarts years 1965-1972

lucius malfoy... where to begin

lucius was really good at reading people. it was one of his strongest talents, and it, interestingly enough, made him really good at divination and other intuitive magics like charms

and even those classes he didn’t like, he did his best to excel in because 1) expectations, and 2) lucius knew there was power in knowledge. and he wanted all of the power he could get.

but he was also great at charming people so when he didn’t want to do his homework, he was all over everyone else, not so much asking for help as just getting it after a word or two.

yes, he always had that long hair

narcissa would sometimes give him little braids when they were in the slytherin common room, but if you were present to witness it, you didn’t ever mention it

he would know and your life would be over. it’s just the facts

and did he always have impeccable style? mostly, yes.

he was always very neat with his clothes - things were always in their rightful place, no matter what

he didn’t get the pimp cane until later, though. it was a graduation gift.

and lucius isn’t actually super tall? i mean, he’s tall, but not super tall

he’s 5′10″ (178 cm)

and he never hated how narcissa and him where basically the same height? (she liked to wear heels) supportive husband, i guess.

and i guess i should tell you - they got together in their 6th year

Amos Diggory

hogwarts years 1963-1970

amos diggory was a hufflepuff, and honestly, he was really cool in his day

he’s the oldest out of everyone on this list, but he went to school with lucius malfoy and xenophilius, leaving before the marauders ever came to school

he was head boy in his 7th year and a prefect prior to

he was kind and worked hard, so the teachers thought he was a good fit

he was particularly gifted in care of magical creatures and transfiguration

he was also really good at wizards chess - he was unbeatable for a while - even against lucius

narcissa beat him in his sixth year, though, and she became the new student to beat

he had a lot of freckles - especially on his arms. they faded a bit with age but he still has quite a few

and he was really good looking?

plenty of people had crushes on him and it may have went to his head just a bit

but he was still very kind and humbled because he wasn’t the most talented or bright, but dedicated to what he loved

whoever he gets with definitely brings out more of his humility and it’s a good match for him

he’s so whipped.

he’s 5′9″ (175 cm)

Other Characters:

Mafalda Hopkirk

hogwarts years 1963-1970

mafalda is portuguese and spoke the language in her home. she mostly learned english for the first time at hogwarts. she had a few exposures before that, but hogwarts was really her first place to learn it.

she was a hufflepuff and honestly exemplified the “hard working” and “kind” traits. truly a friend to all.

she was great at flying and became a chaser for the hufflepuff team almost right away

she also really loved divination - she got into xylomancy early on and was super skilled

she loved making up omens too just to scare her friends

she teased her friends a lot tbh

she’s 5′0″ (152 cm)

oh! and in the hufflepuff common room she basically claimed one of the couches for herself - she’s a bit of a night owl so she perpetually claims the same chair and ends up falls asleep in it.

and since she went to hogwarts during amos diggory’s time, i kind of think the two probably dated at one point. it didn’t last, but maybe in their sixth year the two went on a couple of dates

Xenophilius Lovegood

hogwarts years 1965-1972

xenophilius was a ravenclaw who honestly had a handful of friends and managed to get one in every house  - including slytherin

yes, he could be weird, but he was honestly fun to talk to and gave a lot of interesting insights that weren’t technically wrong, but kind of sounded like it

he was made fun of for it, don’t get me wrong, but his oddities gave him a couple of friends that would let him just ramble

he mostly stuck to himself and his small group of friends, so nothing big ever came of his teasing

plus, when he was younger he wasn’t nearly as out there. that came with age and isolation.

he was actually really intelligent and, like narcissa, had a knack for history

he was also really good at charms - he could do non-verbal spells sooner than most

i imagine he started to grow his hair out in his fourth year, but before then it was short.

all fourth year it was at this really awkward length, but by fifth year it was longer and more natural looking

he only gained his odd fashion taste in his seventh year onward.

Edgar Bones

hogwarts years 1965-1972

edgar bones is a ravenclaw with the biggest fascination with space - more than anyone else you’ll ever know

he was really interested in it when he was younger, and when he went to hogwarts for the first time, his love for astronomy just skyrocketed

good luck getting him down from his tower, because it’s a near impossible feat

he has freckles all over his face (his mom used to tell them they were constellations) and brown eyes hidden behind a pair of square glasses

he actually wears them really well, he’s pretty good looking not going to lie

and for height, he’s pretty average at 5′7″ (170 cm)

he’s italian. idk why, but i just really think he’s italian.

sports aren’t really his thing, but he grew up in a family that lives for quidditch, so he’s a pretty decent chaser if you ever put him up to it.

he’s also really good at potions, although he doesn’t really have a love for it.

if you partner up with him, it’s great because you’ll get your work done fast, but you will end up talking with him about astronomy and divination for the rest of the class.

Bathsheda Babbling

hogwarts years 1966-1973

bathsheda was average height - 5′5″ (165 cm) - with wide, peach color glasses that sort of made her look perpetually surprised

she was black with dark, coily hair that was usually kept short.

she was incredibly gifted in arithmancy and study of ancient runes - the latter which she would one day teach

she was a hufflepuff who set the standard for kindness, always helping the younger students

which made her realize she would love to be a teacher

i don’t think that she was ever given a blood status in canon, but i’ve always thought her to be a halfblood who’s pretty in touch with both the muggle and magical world

i also imagined her to have a younger siblings in ravenclaw, so she could be seen cheering for them at quidditch matches

Fabian Prewett

hogwarts years 1968-1975

fabian and his brother are more well known, so i’ll just hit the basics

so fabian and gideon are clearly twins (don’t @ me with canon, it’s not valid, here), but i also think they were in different houses

fabian was in hufflepuff, and if he ever wore his tie (he was perpetually without it) you would have been able to use it to distinguish the two of them

he was on the quidditch team - a keeper - and was actually really good despite being kind of clumsy on the ground

he was really good at charms and dada but he sucked at transfiguration

gideon was great at transfiguration, though, so it was a constant argument as to who was smarter

fabian definitely gave off younger sibling vibes - he was always joking around and teasing, but he was also very soft hearted when he wanted to be.

he gave terrible life advice, though, go see gideon for that.

i feel like he and gideon had really great hair, although idk why. i just really want them to have nice, curly red hair.

they both kept it short, though. they hated when the curls would get into their eyes.

Gideon Prewett

hogwarts years 1968-1975

now gideon was the brother who was sorted into gryffindor, and you could tell why once you noticed his reckless behavior

if there was anyone the marauders looked up to, it was probably gideon prewett

he definitely helped them set up their first prank and he created such a beautiful legacy, tbh

he was on the gryffindor quidditch team, but he was a beater

the sibling rivalry was really palpable but it made the game so much more fun

like i mentioned, he was great at transfiguration but also had a knack for potions

he was terrible at herbology, though. a plastic plant could die in his care.

gideon is the older twin, but he honestly feels like the younger one sometimes just because he’s so impulsive

but he’s fiercely loyal of his family - don’t even look in their direction or so help him...

also, i forgot to mention that they’re identical twins (because that runs in families and fred and george had to get it from somewhere, right?) and they are both 5′9″ (175 cm)

the tall™ genes came from arthurs side of the family

Bertha Jorkins

hogwarts years 1968-1975

so i know that canon says bertha jorkins isn’t very bright, but i think she was in ravenclaw

i don’t have much on bertha other than she was really curious and loved to listen to gossip

if you ever wanted the good kind of gossip, you went to her because she knew it all

she had connections, y’know?

and i like to think she was creative - probably a writer of some sort, something that would make her want to be a reporter when she left hogwarts

i also think she was a pretty girl. not super gorgeous, but pretty in a more natural, soft way.

Amelia Bones

hogwarts years 1968-1975

amelia bones is the younger sister of edgar bones, and she was a hufflepuff

an athletic girl, she was the seeker for the hufflepuff quidditch team and wanted to be a professional quidditch player for a while, although she eventually turned her gaze to becoming an auror

she was a sweet girl and had a great relationship with her brother - she could sometimes be found in the ravenclaw common room rather than her own, studying with her brother because if he didn’t keep an eye on her, she wouldn’t do her transfiguration homework

she was really good at astronomy, since her brother had been teaching her about the stars since she was little, but her real interest lay in the more tangible magics

again, i like to think that her family is from italy, so she has a really big family and she’s the youngest, which makes her a little pampered, but it’s not too bad.

Sturgis Podmore

hogwarts years 1968-1975

sturgis podmore was a slytherin in hogwarts who mostly kept his head down through his hogwarts years, never really bothering anyone

he had this habit of being able to just slip into the background, no one really noticing him or anything

he was pretty good looking at 5′8″ (173 cm) with a square jaw and a soft demeanor

but again, he had the sneaky ability to just not be seen, so he wasn’t a heartthrob or anything

he was a halfblood and sympathetic to muggleborn students, often helping them in quiet ways so that he wouldn’t get singled out by certain members in his house

he joined the order of the phoenix because he hated feeling like he couldn’t help anyone or do anything that made a difference

he was a really agreeable sort of guy - kind, intelligent, talented.

he should have been the model slytherin, but he was mostly overlooked.

sturgis podmore deserved better, smh

Florence

hogwarts years 1968-1975

florence taylor was a slytherin halfblood who mostly kept to herself

she was friends with sturgis podmore and had a couple of other friends.

she was perfectly kind to others, but she could be a bit curt with acquaintances.

but with her friends, she is the most loyal and would kill for them.

she was made head girl in her seventh year due to her high intellect and generally kind demeanor

she had a secret artsy side - she loved photography and painting, and she had that kind of dark academia aesthetic in all of her work

she liked history of magic and care of magical creatures

she loves animals and is actually really sweet with them?

sturgis may have a bit of a crush on her and there might be a bit of a friends-to-lovers storyline involving the two of them

they are honestly very sweet together - he gives her his sweaters and everything.

and she kind of sucked at potions, but it’s okay because she partnered with sturgis and he absolutely kills it in that class.

they could often be found studying together in the common room, books spread out between them as they worked on the floor

she was 5′4″ ( 163 cm) and had beautiful, brown skin

oh, and she had dimples. that’s important.

Mulciber II

hogwarts years 1970-1977

this sadistic little punk.

his full name is xavier mulciber and he’s in slytherin (obviously)

the leader of his pack (w/ avery and rosier), he’s the most well spoken out of the three of them, and was the one to scout out snape and get him to join them

he was an only child and knew how to work people from a young age

he’s 6′2″ (188 cm) and it helps with his intimidation, even though he’d much rather just talk things out

he was also pretty smart, too, and knew a lot of hexes and jinxes

when he’s cornered someone, he’ll talk to them while walking in a circle, never quite making eye contact because he thinks you’re less than.

he had black hair that he slicked back and sharp, green eyes

Avery II

hogwarts years 1970-1977

punk #2, douglass avery was another slytherin crony of mulciber

now, avery is a bit more complicated

he came from one of those pureblooded slytherin homes, but he himself wasn’t super prejudiced or terrible. he was actually kind of sweet in his first five years at hogwarts.

BUT, his family found out about his muggleborn sympathies and weren’t having it. terrible stuff went down at his house, and when he came to school for his sixth year, he was just as terrible as his summer

in his fifth year he was made prefect, but it was revoked half way through his sixth year when he started becoming nasty to students

he’s 5′10″ (178 cm)

he had brown hair and sort of big, brown eyes

Evan Rosier

hogwarts years 1970-1977

and now we have punk #3, our third sadistic slytherin

now evan rosier was the traditional broad chested, strong bully who looked like he could snap you in half without breaking a sweat

standing at 5′11″ (180 cm), he was a beater on the slytherin quidditch team, and was extremely loyal to voldemort’s cause, even then

he was more aggressive than his friends when it came to negotiations, but he still deferred to Mulciber, knowing his place.

he always had his reservations about avery, and he’d pick on him since avery was objectively lower on the pecking order, but he was also aware that everyone served a purpose

not the dumb jock archetype because while he was always ready for a fight, he knew when he had to wait things out

he was blonde with blue eyes

Dirk Cresswell

hogwarts years 1971-1978

dirk cresswell was a muggleborn hufflepuff who embodied the idea of hard working

he was really talented at everything, and it honestly can be attributed to his work ethic

he was really good at potions and was frequently the partner of dorcas meadowes

they both worked really well together, and dorcas said that she wouldn’t have any other partner because no one else was half as smart and kind as dirk

he was a commentator for quidditch in his fifth year of hogwarts but said he didn’t love it too much - the sport is much funner when you can just watch

he was 5′5″ (165 cm) and was teased for being short (and a muggleborn, but that’s not the point)

he had sandy brown hair and freckles

Greta Catchlove

hogwarts years 1971-1978

greta catchlove was a ravenclaw who mostly kept a low profile during her school years

if you did see her, she was most likely sneaking into the hogwarts kitchens where she learned how to cook from the house elves

a lot of their secrets would be told when she wrote her book “charm your own cheese”

i also feel like she probably had an entire cookbook lineup - not just one about how to make cheese

anyway there’s not much to say about greta

she’s blonde and kind of short at 5′3″ (160 cm)

she was perfectly kind

Farley

hogwarts years 1971-1979

theodore farley was a half-blood slytherin who had to work rather hard to get where he was

he was quidditch captain for his last 2 years of hogwarts, and he was a beater - and a pretty good one, too

he nearly took out james a few times, but it was all in good fun 

because what is key to theodore farley is that he’s noble.

ambitious, sure, but not underhanded or sneaky. he’s the youngest out of a fairly big family, so he’s determined to prove himself, but not at the expense of what he believes

he has honor and dignity

theo was pretty strong, seeing as he’s a beater, and he stands at 5′7″ (170 cm)

he’s half brazilian and had really nice hair - you would not believe

he was very into slicking it back

he was absolutely amazing at charms and actually really enjoyed arithmancy

he struggled in potions, though, and was one time partnered with severus snape

it was horrible. he’ll never do that again.

Emmeline Vance

hogwarts years 1971-1978

emmeline vance was a ravenclaw, and a talented one at that

she was top of the class at charms and she was really good at dada, too. she was a really great spell caster and was good at dueling, too.

she’s half-veela, making her very gorgeous, but she wanted to make a name for herself outside of that beauty, y’know?

she was extremely competitive when it came to school, and she would do anything to get there

but she had a soft spot for her younger brother and would honestly do anything for him.

she was 5′9″ (175 cm) with long, blonde hair that was even more hair goals than sirius black, which is saying something.

Corner

hogwarts years 1973-1980

apolline corner was the younger sister of a few older brothers, sorted into ravenclaw

she was more of an artsy ravenclaw - she played the cello in the music class they had at hogwarts and did the art class, too, although she mostly doodled

she started doing calligraphy and she got okay at it. it didn’t last.

being a half blood, she took muggle studies as an easy class, but she ended up really liking it because it talked about some things she didn’t know or it deepened her understanding of what she already knew

plus, y’know, it helps that it was easy

she was really good in potions, too, something that her whole family was good at because her mom was a potions master and taught them all at a young age

she was absolutely terrible at astronomy for some reason, always messing up the skies by a long shot

she was 5′6″ (168 cm) and had long, black hair and brown eyes

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @babyplutoszx2, @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine

#hp #marauder era #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #peter pettigrew #remus lupin #severus snape #lucius malfoy #amos diggory #narcissa malfoy #headcanons #imagine #would include #fluff #frank longbottom #general headcanons #okay but if you couldn't see i'm in love with all of these characters far too much

[sylvesterlestermanchester]

Fearfully and Wonderfully

Summary: Dan wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to experience when he starts his first semester at Uni, but he was pretty sure an incredibly sheltered Catholic boy stealing his heart wasn’t on his list of typical college tropes.

Word Count: 12401

Genre: Humor, fluff, angst. All mixed together. Fun times!

Warnings: Conversion therapy, homophobia, brief allusions to sex and genitals. One puke joke?

A/N: This is my first ever published fic-I’ve been writing for literally years little bits and pieces, but COVID has me going crazy and I just wanted to put some effort into an actual thing. Thanks for reading!

-

Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked through the door to his dorm the first time, parents and sullen little brother in tow. All of his knowledge about Uni had been from TV and movies-maybe he would have some frat guy in the bed across from him, or maybe a stoner, or maybe a weird silent dude who will disappear after the first week and let Dan put their beds together so they would actually fit his gangly body.

What he isn’t expecting is to have an eight-year-old girl bodyslam herself into his legs, followed by a loud groan and a sharp voice scolding “Suzanne, we told you to stop running!”

Dan’s eyes look down at the (quickly retreating) girl and blinks a few times as he takes in the scene in front of him. There are way too many people in the crowded room right now-he counts two identical boys, both around 10, bouncing on the stiff dorm bed, one pre-teen digging through a cardboard box, a girl around Adrian’s age whispering something to an older woman with a toddler in her arms, standing next to a quiet-looking tall man, and, of course, the eight-year-old, now having been scooped up by a sheepish looking guy around Dan’s age who’s giving him an apologetic smile. This must be the Philip Lester on his room assignment form. “Sorry. My family is kind of, erm, excited.” He says with a small, nervous laugh and sets the girl aside before sticking out a hand to shake. “I’m Phil! You must be, um...Daniel, right?”

Dan takes a second to readjust the bags in his arms to shake Phil’s hand awkwardly, trying not to look too overwhelmed at the scene in front of him. “Dan’s fine.”

The kids have all frozen in place, staring at Dan with wide eyes like Dan just sprouted a second head. There’s a few long beats of silence as Phil shakes his hand just a little too enthusiastically for just a bit too long. 

Finally, Phil’s mum places a hand on her son’s shoulder, beaming brightly. “It’s so great our boys will be living together!” She cheers to Dan’s mum, who looks a bit bewildered. Ms. Lester gently takes a few of Dan’s bags and sets them on the bed, continuing to chatter on. “Come on, we can unpack while you two get to know each other better. I need to know who my son is going to be rooming with, right?” She continues to babble in a thick northern drawl as Dan glances back at his parents, who look like they’re about to bolt for the door and leave their son to be swallowed whole by these people.

“You’re rooming with an absolute freak,” Adrian mumbles in his ear with a small smirk. “Karma is a bitch, huh?” “Shut up.” Dan hisses back through his teeth, trying to look as interested as possible as Phil’s mum keeps talking. 

“The weather here is so nice-it’s already getting cold up in Rossendale, can you believe it? Max and Adam were running around outside, and I was so scared they were gonna catch cold, you know how quickly little ones do. Oh, the drive here was wonderful-” “We saw cows!” One of the kids butts in, and suddenly they’re all talking, any nervousness they had around the strangers suddenly vanishing.

“And horses!” “We got hamburgers, and there was this huge truck-it had to have, like, forty wheels-” Phil seems to take after his dad, quietly but quickly unpacking since his siblings have seemingly given up on it in favor of telling Dan’s family every detail of the six-hour car ride. At one point he makes eye contact with Phil, who gives him an apologetic look, his cheeks flushed and an embarrassed grin on his face as the kids chatter along excitedly like they’ve never talked to another person before.

Finally, right when Dan feels like his ears are going to fall off, Phil speaks up again. “I-I think I can get this from here, guys. Mum, Dad, why don’t we go out for a walk before we say goodbye? I know you guys want to see the geese on campus, right?” The kids all cheer like geese are the most exciting thing on Earth, scrambling for the door. Phil’s mum gives Dan a tight hug and Phil’s dad, still not having spoken a single word, even gives his shoulder an uncomfortable pat before they head out. The small space suddenly feels vast and empty, and the silence is almost tangible. “Well. They seemed...friendly.” Dan’s mum says after a few moments, his dad snorting. 

“You’re in for quite a year, huh, kid?” He jokes. Dan laughs weakly, but in all honesty, it doesn’t seem that funny. 

Just what did he get himself into?

-

Dan’s curled up in his bed when Phil finally comes back a few hours later, giving Dan that same crooked, shy grin from earlier. Now that it’s just him and not him with (presumably) his entire Brady Bunch-style family, he can get a better look at his roommate. He’s tall, about an inch taller than Dan, and lanky. His black jeans are just a bit high on his ankles, and his faded green shirt clings to his skinny frame. As Dan’s eyes travel higher he takes in his flushed cheeks, his blue eyes wide behind his oversized glasses, all behind shaggy black hair that doesn’t match his ginger eyebrows-ginger like every other family member of his. Dan suddenly feels a bit self-conscious in his Game of Thrones pajamas and old school shirt, pulling his covers up a bit higher as he takes in the other young man with a strange feeling in his chest. He’s definitely different than anyone Dan’s ever known. But damn, if he isn’t cute.

“Sorry if my family was a lot today.” He says after a slight moment of silence, a slight giggle slipping out as he walks over to one of the boxes on his side of the room. “I’m the first to go to Uni out of my brothers and sisters, so my parents decided to, like, make it into a whole thing.”

The memory of the chaos is still fresh in Dan’s mind, but hearing Phil talk about it, he can’t help but smile a bit as well. “I’m the oldest, so I get it. And they were nice. Your siblings are very...uh, talkative.” He says slowly, trying not to sound rude, but Phil’s giggling again before he can worry too much about it.

“We’re from kind of the middle of nowhere, so they’re just excited to see, like, humans outside of Rossendale for the first time.” Phil joked as he started reorganizing some of the things his siblings had just sort of dumped around the room. “Plus, they don’t usually get sugar, but they had soda on the way here. So they were practically about to explode by the time we pulled in. They just exploded all of that excitement onto you.” 

Dan can’t help but laugh a bit at that as he watches Phil set some thick books up one way and then rearranges them. “Oh, Jesus. That car ride must have been nuts.” Phil looks over his shoulder, grinning wider now. He looks more and more relaxed each minute, as if he was just as nervous about Dan as Dan was about him. “You have no idea, oh my gosh. They were already wound up for today, and then there was soda, and Max and Alex-they get carsick even worse than I do, and then Suzanne had to pee, like, forty times an hour, and Mum was all weepy...this has been the longest day of my life.” He joked, laughing along with Dan. 

Even though Dan can’t connect any of the kids to their names, he feels like he knows them decently well. In fact, as the conversation drifts into more goofy road trip stories, Dan’s surprised with just how close he feels to Phil like they’ve known each other before they even met.

It’s strange, he finds. But then again, Phil’s pretty strange, after all.

-

Dan doesn’t fully realize how strange Phil is until the next day. There’s a few hints-Dan makes a reference to some TikTok audio and Phil admits he’s never used it before, staring in awe as Dan scrolls through his ForYou Page for him.  When they head off to orientation in one of the lecture halls, Phil’s head jolts up and his face flushes bright red when one of the countless speakers jokingly curses (if you can count “ass” as a curse-Dan honestly can’t). But it’s not until they’re out at the quad with some of their new peers for lunch when Chris turns to Phil and asks if he went to the school his cousin went to up north. “Oh, I didn’t go to school.” Phil says with a bright smile, before quickly adding “I mean-I was homeschooled. So I just kinda did the work when I wanted to.”

“Your parents homeschooled you? Didn’t Dan say you had, like, twenty siblings?” Louise questions as they all turn to look at Phil. Dan feels a migraine coming on just imagining being home with all of those kids all bloody day, though he can actually picture Mrs. Lester teaching them all pretty well. Phil laughed a bit, cheeks flushing pink as he looked down at his sandwich. 

“We all were. My mum and dad didn’t like the schools in our area-they wanted us to be more connected to the church, said that “our values weren’t instilled in traditional education’.” He explained with a small shrug. When PJ raised an eyebrow at that Phil pulled a small cross necklace out from under his shirt. “I’m Catholic. I actually have plans for Seminary after getting my bachelor’s-so if you’re planning on getting married, I’m taking bookings now.” Phil’s last comment was clearly meant to lighten up the mood, but it’s obvious that the subject matter was making the group a little uncomfortable, considering they all just met. Dan’s mentally running through Phil’s belongings in their dorm-were all those books Bibles? Was he going to start hanging crosses everywhere? Or make him wake up early on Sundays? 

Before his brain could spiral out further Chris blurted out “So, were you raised in a Jesus bubble or something?” Louise smacks his arm but Phil giggled. “I-I have been told I’ve lived a bit of a sheltered life before, yeah.” “Were you allowed...TV?” PJ asks slowly, eyes widening when Phil shook his head.

“Not cable. We could watch DVDs, but they had to be approved, so it was usually educational. I know a lot of animal facts, actually. Did you know hippo-”

“What about the internet?” Louise cuts him off.

“Not after my older brother got caught Googling “bikini girls” when he was 10.” Phil joked lightly. “But even before that, my mum was pretty anti-internet. If I really needed it for school or whatever, I’d go down to the library.”

“No Harry Potter?” “Promotes witchcraft. Apparently. I haven’t read it for myself, but-”

“Dating?” “Not without serious intention to marry-and I’m not exactly ready for that, so-” “Running water?” “You know what’s funny?” Phil says, giggling a bit and bringing his knees loosely to his chest. “You guys think I’m weird, which is totally understandable. But your guys’ lives before this sound weird to me, too. Like-Chris, you got to play video games as a kid, right? And I was taught that those would turn me into some homicidal maniac. Dan, I saw you have a horoscope app-that’s the occult, so that’s a huge no-no.” Wow, okay. Before Dan could feel too offended, though, and Chris could jump in, Phil keeps going. “But, like, I get that you’re not a witch, or Chris, you’re not gonna chop me up into little pieces when I’m sleeping. There’s gotta be some middle ground here, right? So...you guys could show me how to live more like you, and maybe you guys would be more interested in what I’m into?”

There’s a small silence that falls across the group before a wicked grin slowly appears on Louise’s face.

“What do you want to learn first?”

-

The next few weeks are a bit of a whirlwind for Dan. Between classes, hanging out with new friends, homework, scrambling to find a job, remembering to text his mum and let her know he hasn’t died, he’s barely able to keep his head on straight. But the time he spends trying to introduce Phil to the “real world” is some of his favorite. 

Phil had set some ground rules-nothing that could kill him or ruin his life if it got out on social media. If he got too uncomfortable, he was allowed to tap out, but he’d give it an honest attempt. And nothing Satanic. (Dan had laughed until he realized by the look on his face that he wasn’t joking).

Granted, their friend group hadn’t done a great job at the start. PJ thought it would be hilarious to let Phil start with some “iconic reading material”. 

Dan had been in class when they had presented the book to him, and the two were in their respective beds when Dan heard a shocked gasp from Phil’s side of the room.

“You good, mate?” He rolled over, watching as Phil sat upright and started flipping through the pages. “Do-Do you know about this book?” He asked, face turning impossibly redder as he held up the cover for Dan. 50 Shades of Gray. As Dan burst out laughing, his roommate whined playfully.

“What-Phil, who gave this to you?” “PJ said it was necessary reading!”

“PJ is a dunce. Give it here, I’ll protect you from the big bad book.” Dan teases, but Phil quickly shoves the book into his hands like it’s on fire. 

“I’m gonna have nightmares about ties and rich men for weeks.” He grumbled playfully, curling up on his bed and reaching for his phone. “I’m never trusting Peej again.” 

Louise turns full maternal the next day when he struggles to recount the experience in polite language (Dan holding back laughter), and she decides to go the complete opposite way, launching a mission to, as she put it, “reshape Phil’s lost childhood”. Phil lightly pushes back against wording, because he feels like he had quite a nice childhood, thank you very much. 

Still, Louise comes over a couple of nights later, armed with her laptop.

“They couldn’t come up with a more creative name than “High School Musical”?” Phil teased gently as she pulled it up on her screen.

“Phil, you sweet boy, High School Musical is a cultural milestone that you need experience. So no backtalk!”

“Whatever you say.” He said, sitting on the other side of her and holding a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

They watch the first movie, and then the second, and then Phil’s begging to watch the third. As the final song plays Dan glances over and sees that Phil has his head ducked down, shoulders shaking gently.

“Phil?” Louise asks gently right as a choked sob erupts from him. She lets out a yelp as Phil flings his arms around her neck, laughing shakily. “It was just...Troy chose basketball and music…both of his passions...” He blubbers out, nuzzling into her shoulder as she coos. “You’re so weird, hon. You know that?” Once he’s calmed down enough (when Dan offers him a hug the waterworks start up all over again, sniffling. “So. Is that what your guys’ school was like?”

Louise and Dan glance at each other before bursting into laughter, only stopping a couple of minutes later when Louise turns to Phil once more. “If you liked High School Musical, you’re going to love this show Victorious…”

Of course, it’s not all smutty books and (incredible) movie trilogies. 

Being homeschooled meant that all Phil knows is doing school when he feels like it. Lucky for Phil, he’s a huge nerd, so homework and studying actually excite him. The problem is, these things tend to excite him at 3 in the morning, and he actually has classes to go to now outside of his room. 

By day three of no sleep, Phil swears Dan’s grown wings, and Dan intervenes. They make up a rules sheet-bedtime is 2AM, wake up at 10AM, eat three meals a day, no more than five cups of coffee a day (of all the vices Phil was deprived of, caffeine was clearly not one of them-Dan’s never seen anyone drink more coffee in his life). He gets him down to one all-nighter a week, and in turn, Phil wakes him up each morning and helps him with schoolwork so Dan doesn’t have to face going to the tutoring center. It turns out that Phil’s kind of a genius, despite never being in a classroom until a couple of weeks prior.

Chris is the one who convinces Phil to get social media, telling him that “only serial killers and old people” don’t. Phil’s not the greatest at it at first (there’s a lot of pictures uploaded on accident to his Instagram stories and nonsense tweets), but he slowly gets more used to it, getting his terrible puns and weird things he sees on campus out to the world (all 20 of his followers).

Dan can’t help but get slightly annoyed when Phil’s phone is shoved in his face to choose a filter of some stupid looking goose that’s close to attacking him, but the look of pure elation that Phil gets when someone sends a dog meme in their group chat is enough to warm his heart in ways he didn’t want to address fully but knew he couldn’t ignore.

There’s so much to teach him, and it seems like each day something pops up. Still, Dan’s surprised by Phil’s world, too. 

First, he brings them to a non-denominational bible study group. PJ groaned quietly as Phil handed them all cheap paperback Bibles before they entered the church.

“Can’t we do something a bit more...fun? With less reading?”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again,” Phil said with a grin, rocking back and forth on his heels. “And if you like it-which hopefully, you will-we can come back once a week, and I’ll get you some nicer Bibles. These are just to start out with.”

Louise forces a small “yay” as they head inside, Phil leading them through the sanctuary with a happy sigh before taking them down some stairs, where a young woman sits in front of a small arrangement of chairs. “Phil, you brought your friends!” The woman cheers and Phil laughs happily. “Caroline-this is Dan, PJ, Chris, and Lou. They’re new to all this, so we’ll go easy this week?” He joked lightly, and Caroline nods, asking them about their religious beliefs.

“Uh, went to church a few times with my Nan. Atheist.” Dan says, biting his lip. He never actually said the “a'' word around Phil, and he’s a bit nervous that he’s going to suddenly flip out, but he still seems just as excited as when he walked in.

“Atheist. Never been-parents hate churches. Can I still grab snacks?” Chris adds and Caroline laughs, nodding.

“I’m a little complicated, but it’s basically just hippie church.” PJ says, shrugging. “Singing and chanting and all.”

“I go about once a month-I’m Episcopal, officially, but I’ve been to other churches too.” Louise gently smiled, and with that, the group got started. They went around and talked about their weeks, a few upcoming events, a prayer, and then Caroline instructed them to get their books. Phil pulled a well-worn leather Bible out of his bag, and Dan’s eyes widened a bit when he opened it. There are post-it notes everywhere, with entire passages highlighted and notes covering practically every margin in Phil’s stupidly perfect handwriting. It’s clear that Phil’s spent a lot of time with the book.

“Since we have guests, I figured we’d take a break from our reading of Matthew and focus on a couple of specific verses today,” Caroline says brightly. “James 1:13-15: “Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man: But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.”

There’s a slight pause and Chris furrows his eyebrows. “Huh?” “In simple terms-don’t say God isn’t the one to tempt you, because when you stray off His path, that’s on you.” One of the group members explains. “And if you do sin, it’ll lead to, uh, death.”

“Well, does God not tempt us to do bad things by putting so much pressure on us to be perfect?” A girl with blue hair jumps in, raising an eyebrow. “He sets the standard so high. Sometimes I’m just like, ‘Chill, dude. I can’t do everything. I’m not you.’ “

PJ snorts at that, giggling. “You call God dude?” They’re all laughing now, but Dan can’t believe it-he wants to jump in.

“Can I ask a dumb question?” His voice is a bit quiet but inquisitive. “Isn’t God supposed to be loving and forgiving? Why does He want you guys to be perfect? That sounds kind of...harsh.”

“Well, He knows we’re not perfect.” Phil says, and another guy nods.

“He asks for us to be because it strives us to be better. And it teaches us that messing up is okay.” The conversation keeps up for a bit before Caroline interrupts, asking them to focus on the latter half of the passage.

PJ narrows his eyes at the text before looking up. “Am I really gonna die if I sin?” “Well, sin was what led us away from eternal life in the first place-Adam and Eve kinda messed that up for us.”

“Yeah, but our personal sins can lead us to death, too. Not just old sins. That’s what God’s warning us about here.”

“Not every sin does, though. Like mixed-fabric shirts.” Louise grinned a little. “Or grabbing dudes by their nads during fights.” PJ’s eyes widened and he turned to Phil. “Are those actual rules?!” “It was a different time!” Phil giggled as he watched him flip through the pages quickly.

“Where does it say we can’t grab nads?’ “Can we stop saying nads in church?” Phil pointed out, still laughing despite his red face.

Caroline tuts and wags a finger playfully. “Uh-uh, Philip. No judgment. They can talk about nads all they want, now.”

The entire room is laughing again as Phil buries his face in his hands. Finally, when he controls his giggles, Caroline speaks again. “Do you think talking about that kind of stuff in church is a sin, Phil?”

It’s teasing at first, but Phil actually thinks about it for a moment.

“Well...my household was pretty strict growing up. I mean, I got yelled at once for just sneezing during church.” He admits slowly and Dan’s eyebrows furrow a little. He can’t imagine either of Phil’s parents yelling at him, or anyone, really. “But I get why it was. They wanted me to love God, and respect Him, just like they loved and respected me and I loved and respected them. So I think if you do things with love, genuine love, it’s not a sin. But if you do things out of hate, or anger, or with the intention of hurting, that’s a sin. And that’s not automatically bad-like T’andra said, we’re all gonna make mistakes. Just keep on acting with love, and I think you’re good.” There’s a pause, and Dan’s face flushes slightly. Not just at how much Phil was saying “love”, but the words he spoke, and the true thought and passion behind them. 

The moment is cut short when PJ snorts. “So if I love nads, I can talk about them to Jesus?”

By the time the room is back under control, the group is over. “Y’know, that was actually pretty fun.” Chris said after they had all grabbed snacks and talked to everyone. 

“It was! It was like...philosophical debate.” Dan said. “The real nitty-gritty. The topics of good, evil, life, death, corruption-” Louise shoved him gently. “So deep, Dan. Of course you enjoyed it.” She joked lightly before adding “No offense, Phil!” Phil doesn’t seem to care-he’s grinning so wide it must be hurting his cheeks, and Dan would be lying if he isn’t tempted to start reading the whole Bible from cover to cover just to see him grin like that again.

Phil also manages to bring them to actual church services a couple of times (though getting college students out of bed before noon on a weekend proves to be a practically impossible task). 

Dan has to admit he’s not as impressed with this as he is with the study group. The group is fun-they can all talk, and laugh, and actually discuss the points. Church is...not. They sit on hard pews. They listen. They stand and sit and kneel and stand and sit and kneel. They sing a few songs, and while Phil’s quiet baritone makes Dan’s sore knees quiver, it’s not enough to really warrant him waking up at 8AM on a weekend. 

Phil is politely understanding of this, though it’s clear that this is of certain importance to him that his friends might not ever understand. It’s admirable if nothing else.

Other than storytelling from his childhood (which does little to make him seem more normal, honestly) and the weekly study, though, Phil doesn’t talk too much about the church to his other friends. Dan, however, is different. Maybe it’s just the fact that they live together and their space is more shared, but Phil opens up to Dan a bit more about it. He reads passages and verses to Dan, he prays in front of him, and he answers his questions in a non-condescending way. Dan has to admit that while he likes what Phil says, he can’t find himself connecting to it in the way Phil has, with his entire heart and soul. But Dan can admire the stories and the way his friend sees the world, and this new world that he’s entering with him.

It’s been a month of them being friends when Dan realizes that he’s seeing the world in two ways-Dan’s universe, and Phil’s universe. They’re so different, but (and he’s sure he’d never admit this out loud) Dan prefers when their universes collide. 

When Dan comes home after a long day of classes and working at the campus bookstore, he’s exhausted. The soft music fades through the room as he opens the door to find Phil chewing on a pen, looking just as anxious as him. “I think my brain is leaking out my ears,” Phil said wearily, looking over the top of his glasses at Dan. “Do I have brain on my desk?” Dan snorts and rolls his eyes, reaching over and grabbing his textbook. “We need a break. And you need sleep-I know you took that second all-nighter last night, rule-breaker.” “Fine. Watch something with me?” He says after a moment, grabbing his laptop. They load up an episode of Zoey101 (they’d finished Victorious the week before) and hit play.

As the bars from the theme song fade out, Dan suddenly feels a strange pressure on his shoulder. He glances over and finds Phil with his cheek pressed to Dan’s shoulder, glasses sliding down his nose as he lets out a soft snore. Dan pauses the show, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of them. Dan and Phil. 

He lives for those moments: Getting coffee after a class. Sending each other memes. Trying new food at the dining hall. Brief greetings in the halls. Shared looks as they hang out with their friend group.

It’s been a month of them being friends when Dan realizes he's never fallen quite this hard before. He doesn’t just want to make out, all hot and heavy, or go further than just that. He just wants this-Dan and Phil-forever, even just as friends. He didn’t expect to find that in this pale, bible-banging weirdo, but now that he does he never wants to let him go.

-

Dan’s getting that feeling now more and more, the Dan and Phil feeling when they’re in the study group a few weeks later. They’re both sat towards the back, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter as they’re hunched over Dan’s Bible.

“I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver…” Phil says under his breath in a low, gravelly tone. 

Dan turns to the next page. “O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely. Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes!” He whispers, still trying to make his voice sound high-pitched.

“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from-”

“Dan, Phil, I’m guessing you both are whispering about how excited you are about our retreat at Camp Brabeck?”

The two both fall silent, Dan quickly glancing between Phil and Caroline, her smile wearing a bit thin from having to call them out. Phil’s eyes are wide, suddenly all signs of laughter gone. “Camp Brabeck?” He squeaks out, and the leader nods.

“On our upcoming four-day weekend. It’s up North, so it’ll be a bit of a drive, but we’ve already got the vans rented out and everything.” She says before noticing Phil’s sudden change in demeanor. “Phil, you’re from around there, actually. Have you been before?”

Phil blinks a few times before nodding, curling up into his seat a little. “O-Oh. Well, I actually did, once, but-”

“Great! So you’ll be down to come, right? We’ve got more space in the van, and it’ll be fun…” Caroline says hopefully, not letting him argue as he starts shaking his head. “Plus, if you’ve already been there, you can tell us all about it! C’mon, this is right up your alley. I think you’ll-” “I’ll go if Dan does.” Phil blurts out suddenly, looking nervously over at. Dan’s definitely confused now-Phil loves the outdoors. He loves this group. He loves-well, to be fair, Phil seems to love most things. He’s racking his brain trying to figure out what it could be, but he just can’t, and now all eyes are on him, and-

“I mean...as long as someone brings bug spray.” Dan says slowly, Caroline beaming and writing on her clipboard before talking excitedly about the campground. The two stay quiet, Dan focusing on Phil’s eyes trained on her and hands gripping his Bible so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

The minute the group ends Phil makes a beeline to the door, walking so fast that Dan can’t catch up without actually chasing him. Dan’s phone dings a short moment later:

Sorry 2 run! Had 2 catch up w some1 4 a thing. Thx 4 signing up w me ^_^ - Phil!

Dan furrows his eyebrows, and not for the normal reason of Phil’s stupid abbreviations and the fact he insists upon signing all his texts. He’s trying to piece the pieces together from the few characters on his screen when Louise puts a hand on his shoulder. “So what was all that about?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, giggling a bit as she gives his arm a light squeeze. “What did you show him that spooked him so bad?” Before Dan can speak, Chris is at his side.

“He’s just embarrassed that Dan was flirting with him during the Jesus Power Hour.” “Dan, were you?” Louise gasped teasingly, and Dan sputters a bit, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket. “Chris-what?! No, no, I wasn’t flirting. I wasn’t! He just-when she mentioned the retreat-and the camp-” Dan’s face is bright red now, suddenly the words from Solomon seem a lot less goofy and a lot more...romantic, to outsiders, with their heads bowed together with dumb grins on their faces. 

Louise and Chris shoot Dan equally doubtful looks. “Dan-” She starts, but Dan grits his teeth.

“We’re not-neither of us are like that.” He snaps. As she steps back and Chris raises an eyebrow, guilt starts to pool in his stomach, but he can’t stop. “For one, I’m not gay, and two, Phil is gonna be a priest, remember? Aren’t they, like, sworn to celibacy?”

Chris and Louise glance at each other. “Mate...chill, yeah? We were just joking. We know you’re not...y’know.” “Good.” Dan said before turning and stomping up the steps, the unnerving sense that the painting of Jesus had his eyes following him the whole way.

A few minutes later, Dan is sitting in the back garden of the church that Phil helps tend to after services, the wind whipping through his hair. Usually, he’d be walking to a Starbucks with Phil, discussing that session’s theme in-depth and watching Phil’s face turn pink as Dan releases the string of expletives he’s been holding in for an entire hour. The expletives are running through his head at top speed, as he spends about three minutes crafting the perfect text message. 

hey, i’m sorry if i weirded you out today! didn’t mean to haha. i was goofing off way too much and i know you take these meetings p seriously. i’ll take it more seriously next time and not distract you

Dan hits send after rereading it about a million times, groaning audibly as he does. It’s not exactly a “Sorry I have a crush on you and made you seem gay but I get you’ll never like me and that’s fine I just wanna spend all my time with you”, but it’s the best he can do.

No worries! OMGosh I was just embarrassed 2 b called out like that hahaha! 0_o <= Literally my face. I was def the 1 who was whispering 2 loud. Lol! -Phil!

dude, it was totally on me. Dan texts back, chewing on his bottom lip. Phil had looked pretty freaked out, but if he was fine, maybe they could just...move past it? really, i started it. 

Noooooooo! I take all the blame. I had some cookies b4 group and I was on major sugar rush. Btw...I had some of those cookies ur nan sent! Sorry, I’ll buy some snacks 4 us. Ask her to send more, tho? So good <3 Thank u! Take dancing men as an apology (/-_-)/ |(-_-|) -Phil!

okay, seriously, who taught you to text like this? my head hurts trying to decipher everything

DANCING MEN 4 U (/-_-)/ |(-_-\) ~(*-*)~ (/-_-)/ |(-_-\) -Phil!

you’re ridiculous. Dan can’t help but laugh, in spite of the churning feeling in his stomach. He drops his phone onto the grass next to him and looks up at the sky. 

“If you know Phil so well, big guy, what do I do?” He asks before he can stop himself, before pausing. Half of him expects a thunderstorm to start, and him to get struck by lightning, or a rainbow to leap across the sky and the clouds to part to show Phil’s shining face as the sun. But after a few long moments of silence, Dan realizes he’s not going to get any divine intervention and groans. 

“Well...let me know when you figure it out.”

-

The next couple of weeks go by quickly. Everything seems normal-they go to classes, they go to work, they go to group, they goof off. The four-day weekend creeps upon them, but before they know it the whole group is up at 6AM standing in front of a huge white van.

“This isn’t cult-ish at all.” PJ yawns, chucking his duffle bag into the trunk. Louise sips her coffee and squints over at Phil.

“This has to be a sin, you know. Not giving a girl her beauty sleep.” Usually, Phil would spout something about “being beautiful in His eyes”, but right now he’s getting the same sense of panic in his eyes that he had when the camp was first mentioned, laughing weakly as he adjusts his glasses. Dan is just awake enough to get the sense that Phil has been repressing the idea of the trip until this exact moment, but he also knows just how to fix it. He had been stockpiling on Phil knowledge for this exact moment.

Phil jumps a bit as Dan nudges him. “Relax. Listen, I know what’s up.” He says quietly, watching as his friend’s eyes widen and a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“What?!” Phil yelps a bit as Dan gently leads him away from the rest of the group. “I mean...what do you know? What’s up?” He asks quietly, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

Dan holds back a fond noise as he smiles gently, shaking his head. “No need to be embarrassed, Phil. My mom went through the same thing for years.” As Phil looks more and more concerned, wringing his hands, Dan digs in his own backpack for a moment before pulling out a small box of Dramamine and handing it to him. “So you don’t upchuck all over us.”

There’s a beat as Phil stares down at the box, eyes wide, and Dan almost thinks he’s got it wrong. Does Phil not get carsick? Was he insulted? Was he really that embarrassed by it?

Phil finally starts to giggle, but it seems more relieved than anything. He nudges Dan lightly and opens his mouth to speak.

“Ah, Dan and Phil! The dynamic duo. You two can sit in the back with the bags!” Caroline’s voice cuts through whatever Phil’s about to say, and he turns to Dan with a small shrug. 

“Looks like it’ll just be you I puke on.” He says, a slight grin on his face as he pulls the door open for Dan, who rolls his eyes but steps in “Gotta get you a poncho for the splash zone.” Dan gags playfully before squeezing in to sit next to Phil amongst all the bags, rolling his eyes and plugging his earbuds in before holding out one bud to Phil and turning on their shared playlist-a mix of indie, Christian rock, (mostly clean) emo jams, and Disney Channel top hits. It’s not the most welcoming thing to listen to at 6AM, but if it keeps Phil calm and Dan from actually needing a poncho, he’ll welcome it.

The majority of the drive is spent in and out of sleep for Dan, guitar chords and vocals bouncing around his sleep-deprived brain. He’s not fully conscious until around noon when they’re about an hour away from the camp. The roads are getting twisty, and it’s then that he notices that Phil has his eyes screwed shut and face scrunched up, both hands shoved into his messenger bag. It only takes a slight peek for Dan to see his fingers curled tightly around his well-worn Bible, and he bites his lip. 

Phil talks about leaps of faith a lot in group. Dan doesn’t quite get it, but he’s pretty sure he’s taking one when he slides his hand into the other’s bag and gently coaxes Phil’s hand into his own. The young man stiffens up for a moment before turning to stare at Dan with wide eyes.

“Shush. It’ll help nausea.” Dan mumbles, his own face red and praying that Phil won’t ask how exactly it will. There’s a pause before Phil smiles weakly, turning his face away, and Dan is about five seconds away from opening the van door and hurtling himself onto the road.

Phil’s probably just been playing nice, and now Dan’s gone and made it uncomfortable for the both of them, and Phil can’t even look at him. Dan’s whole body turns hot, but right before he can pull away, he feels Phil’s slender fingers intertwine with his own.

It’s not the first time they’ve held hands-they do it at the start and end of study groups, and at church, and that one time Phil got them all to hold hands while standing on a hill to reenact the ending of High School Musical 2 for his Instagram. Dan was a bit flustered then, too. But this is different. It’s...intimate. Phil’s never held his hand with such need before, fingers locked with his and palm quivering gently as he mouths a silent “thank you.” Dan feels his entire body buzz, and he can’t help but close his eyes and try to focus on the music and not the fact that he feels like he’s literally twelve years old.

The rest of the ride somehow takes an eternity and only a minute before the van stops, Chris bemoaning his hunger loudly and the rest chattering excitedly. Phil finally opens his eyes and turns to Dan, slowly pulling his hand away. 

They both look at their hands, and then back at each other. There’s a long pause before he opens his mouth, and Dan’s heart starts pounding so hard he’s surprised Phil can’t hear it.

All that Dan has thought about them staying platonic goes out the window. Dan wants nothing more than to lunge forward and shove his lips against Phil’s, to run his hands through his hair, to climb into his lap and- “I didn’t puke!” Phil blurts out loudly, loud enough that everyone hears. The group falls silent before one of the other young men, Raz, gives Phil a thumbs up. “Good for you, bud. C’mon, let’s get these bags up to the cabin, and then we can get some food to celebrate.” Phil laughs a bit too hard at that, face bright red. As he clamors out of the van he leaves Dan in the backseat, trying to climb over the mountain of bags as he watches his friend chatter away as if nothing happened. He watches for a moment before shaking his head quickly, trying to erase the memory from his mind. He was just making things more complicated than they needed to be. They didn’t share a moment. No way.

Dan hauls his bag over his shoulder and walks along with PJ and Lou, struggling to stop the loop of those ten seconds from playing in his head.

-

Dan liked that the Bible study group wasn’t too Jesus-y. It was more philosophical than anything. Even church was just an hour a week on the weeks he went, which was really only once a month when Phil promised brunch afterward.

This weekend, he and his friends had realized, seemed to be where the group could get enough Jesus to last them until the next retreat. It started with grace before lunch-simple enough. But then a pastor had started to preach to them during lunch. And then after lunch. And then afternoon Bible study-for two hours, with a lot more reading and praying than actual discussion. Pj, Chris, and Louise were clearly trying not to fall asleep, while Phil sat off a bit, eyes trained on either the priest or his Bible, hugging himself tightly as he stayed completely silent.

“It’s just so boring!” Louise groaned once they were all finally outside and out of earshot. “I’m sorry, I know this is what you want to do with the rest of your life, Phil, but we’re in nature! Why are we just stuck in some stuffy room listening to an old dude read for hours when we can see the cool stuff God apparently built for us?” “God wants me to climb some of those rocks over there.” PJ agreed, snapping a few pictures on his phone. “He tried to call me earlier to tell me so, but reception sucks here.”

Phil laughed a bit, but it’s definitely more hollow than his normal giggles. “I’m sorry, I-I really thought-”

“Wait. Haven’t you been here before?” Louise asked as PJ started jogging over to the huge rocks, Chris following shortly after. Phil paused before rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I mean, yeah, but-” 

They’re both cut off by someone calling Phil’s name, and he whirls around to see the priest-the same “old dude” Louise had just been insulting-walk over and clap a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Philip, you must have grown a full foot since I last saw you!” Dan glances over at Phil with a slightly surprised look. He knew Phil had been here before, sure. But to know this man? Someone who seemed so different from Phil in so many ways?

“O-Oh, Father Richard. Hey. Guys, Father Richard worked at the camp I came to a-a couple of years ago.” “And Philip was one of the finest boys there, wasn’t he?” If the man notices Phil shift from one foot to the other nervously, he sure doesn’t show it. “I mean, they were all wonderful young men, don’t get me wrong. But Philip-you’re truly going to be a man of the cloth. Don’t you both think?” Dan is watching Father Richard’s face closely, immediately feeling himself wanting to leave the conversation as soon as possible. If it wasn’t for Phil, he’d have made an excuse and walked off by now. It seems like Louise isn’t thrilled, either, but she smiles and nods a bit. “It’s clearly his passion, uh, Father Richard.”

“Oh, absolutely. As long as he keeps his head out of the clouds.” He throws his head back and laughs, Phil’s grin looking more like a grimace as he chuckles along. “I swear, this boy would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to him!” “I think Phil’s pretty smart, actually.” Dan says suddenly, a good bit of bite to his tone. He’s not sure why, but something about this guy gives him the creeps. He stares him in the eyes as he gets a surprised look from both him and Phil.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Well...I suppose he’s matured a lot over the past two years. Good to see you again, boy. We’ll have to catch up.” With that he heads off, giving Dan a slightly curious look as he does so, and Phil watches him go before shaking his head.

“Jeez. Phil Lester Fan Club over here.” Louise teased gently before frowning. “What’s his deal?” Phil bit his lip and sighed. “That’s how he is.” He explained quietly, yelping as Louise pulled him into a tight hug.

“Philly…” She cooed before moving to sit on the grass with him, motioning for Dan to do the same. “Talk to us? You’re not usually closed off like this. We know something’s up.” Phil squirms, and Dan can tell he’s debating whether or not to lie. He’s seen it before-when Chris asked if he looked good in his new neon t-shirt, or when some girl asked him once if she was being too annoying after complaining about her roommate to them for five minutes straight. “I just...I came to this camp when I was younger and had different ideas than I do now.” He explains finally.

“Like how interesting that Richard guy was?” Dan tries to joke, instantly regretting it as Phil brings his knees to his chest and curls up into himself.

His voice gets quiet, as it does sometimes when things get serious in group meetings and he’s comforting someone with a verse or trying to explain a tough concept to Dan. 

“Like...I was raised to think God ruled with a vengeance. If you sinned in any way, He would punish you. That’s what my parents said. We were supposed to fear Him, y’know? And when I came here...Father Richard pushed that hard.” Phil explained gently. “But I don’t think God’s like that. I think we’re all sinners-we all make mistakes. James 3:2 and all that. God loves us in spite of our flaws. Hearing him talk about God like he was so cruel, and then reading about His love for us...it was the first time it didn’t add up for me.”

Dan’s eyes widened. In all his time of knowing Phil-two months doesn’t sound like much, but it feels like a lifetime ago-he’s never once heard him speak against his parent’s beliefs. Sure, he could admit that they were a bit extreme at times, but it was always quickly followed with how their intentions were good and that everything had been great. 

“And as someone who wants to be a priest, I don’t think the way to get people to turn to God is to scream at them until they repent and scare them into not sinning. I think you need to be like Jesus. Hate the sin, love the sinner.” He continued, forcing a tiny smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because we’re all His children, after all. And He’s got a path for all of us-fear won’t guide us onto that.”

There’s a moment of silence before Louise reaches down, giving his hair an affectionate tousle. “You start preaching like that and I’ll come to your church every Sunday. I’ll even sing in the choir.” She joked. A slow beam spread across Phil’s face-a a genuine one, and he stood up before pulling her into a tight hug. 

“Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you both. I-If I had known he would’ve been here, I’d have at least warned you-”

“Shush, mate. You had no idea. Trust me, you’re way too much of a softie to lie to us, we know that.” Dan laughed a bit, giving Phil’s back a light pat. Phil giggled a bit before pulling away, taking a deep breath. 

“Wanna go make sure Chris and Peej don’t crack their heads open?” He said finally, and before they could say anything the two of them were taking off towards the rocks, Dan chasing after both of them. Despite his grin, he still couldn’t help but feel like his head was heavy with questions. Father Richard had seemed boring, and a bit grumpy, but not angry. Were Phil’s changing beliefs really all that had happened?

-

Phil had seemed relieved to talk for a bit, but the mood shifted again once evening activities started. Father Richard had preached again during dinner-and again, nothing terrible happened. He made a few dry jokes, he talked about having “complete and total faith”, he read some long passages that Dan didn’t care about. He was too busy glancing over at Phil next to him, who had left his food practically untouched. 

Then there are evening vespers, with Phil’s hands clenched together so tightly in prayer that his knuckles turn white and his fingernails dig into the skin. The firepit seems to be going well-he shares a s’more with Dan, but before he could get another he’s pulled aside by Father Richard. Dan’s sure at one point the two glance over at Dan, but then Phil’s walking back over, trying to look interested in some story one of the group members is telling as he brings his knees to his chest. Even Chris and PJ seem to notice that something’s going on, but with a pointed look from Dan, they give him some space.

They turn in for the night, but Dan wakes up way too early to find Phil curled up on his bunk pouring over his Bible. The bags under his eyes tell Dan that he didn’t sleep a wink last night, and he sighs. “C’mon, you gotta show me where the showerhouse is.” He says gently, and Phil looks up at him with a tired laugh. “Do I?” He teased weakly. After a minute though, he sits up and stretches. “Mmm...fine. But no chickening out.” With that he hops down from the bunk, peeling off his shirt before walking over to his bag.

Dan’s pretty sure he gulps audibly as Phil grabs a change of clothes and a towel, eyes wandering over him. Though Phil braved the communal showers at Uni, he was always sure to change in the stall-Dan had never seen him in so much as a pair of shorts that went higher than his knees. And yet, here he was. Dan would feel guilty about watching him, especially considering he knew Phil was having a tough time, but…

He couldn’t help it. His best friend looked hot as hell from behind. He couldn’t help but admire his slim frame, his lean but toned arms, and when he turned around, the slight smattering of chest hair that slowly turned into a happy trail that crept lower, into-

“I’m telling you now, if you forget a towel you’ll regret it.” He said, voice still low from sleep, and Dan snapped his head up. “Towel! Right! Let me go grab that.” He squeaked and quickly moved to grab it, trying to hide his flushed cheeks as he snagged a change of clothes as well. By the time he looked up Phil was already heading for the door, humming under his breath, and Dan followed him quickly.

After a few moments of silence, Phil spoke. “Father Richard is leaving tonight, so you won’t have to sit through his lectures after today. He’s just stopping by to talk to us. So we’ll have less worship-y stuff and more free time tomorrow.” Phil glanced over at Dan. “Sorry if I’m weird about it. I just..y’know.”

Dan nodded and relaxed into the shared feeling of relief, even if he didn’t exactly know what Phil was talking about. Before he could ask, though, they were at the small building-just a row of four stalls that looked like bathroom stalls, built out of wood. As Dan stepped inside and stripped-definitely not thinking about how Phil was doing the same just inches away, especially as he heard his sweatpants hit the ground-he rubbed his eyes. “Is there coffee here?”

“Oh, trust me, you don’t need coffee here.” Phil laughed a bit, a genuine one, and Dan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at where his head peeked over the stall. 

“Dude, I’ve seen you-sweet fuck!” Dan shrieked as he turned the single knob on and freezing cold water shot out of a showerhead on the ceiling. “How the fuck do you get the hot water?!”

Phil was really laughing now, his witch cackle carrying over Dan’s screams. “No hot water at camp.” He sang playfully. “And no swearing, either, but-”

“Christ on a bike, no wonder you were fucking miserable here!” The words come out before he can realize it, and suddenly he freezes (as well as he can while shivering like mad), but Phil only laughs harder. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Dan can hear the grin in his voice, and he lets out a long breath. “Whatever. Shitting fucking fuck! Let’s get this over with.”

Dan somehow manages to survive the worst shower of his life, his hair curling as he towels himself off before tugging on clothes and leaving the showerhouse. If it wasn’t for the bright smile on Phil’s face, he’d say it wasn’t worth it. But at least for right now, Phil is his old, giggly self again, and Dan comes to the realization he’d do just about anything to keep him like that.

Unfortunately for Dan, it doesn’t last long. As they’re walking back to the cabin, Phil glances across the way and sees Father Richard, walking through the trees. “Oh, shoot, c’mon-” Phil grabs Dan’s arm and tugs him along a bit faster, not looking behind him for nearly a full minute. As he glances over and sees the look on Dan’s face he finally stops, sighing softly. The joy from before is gone. “Sorry. I just...too early to try to handle that right now.” “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s just get going to the cabin, yeah? I’m still freezing.” Dan jokes weakly, and Phil tries to crack a smile, still looking uncomfortable as they walk along the trail in silence.

The rest of the day is disturbingly similar to yesterday, and the whole group is sensing that Phil is just...off. He’s usually eager to jump into discussions, but even when Father Richard gives them the chance to talk, Phil seems totally holed up in himself, mumbling something about wanting to give others a time to speak (which pushes the topic along to Louise, who fumbles it totally and is earned a condescending smile from Father Richard).

By lunch, Dan thinks he can’t sit through another hour of this. By mid-afternoon, he’s considering faking being possessed by Satan. And by dinner, he’s come up with about forty ways to fake the possession. The only reason keeping him from doing so is that when he mutters it to PJ he tells him to wait until after dinner-if he keeps Chris from food, he’ll have bigger things to worry about than a camp full of religious fanatics thinking he’s possessed.

They set the tables and then get in line to eat dinner. Dan immediately realizes Phil isn’t anywhere to be found, exchanging concerned looks with Louise. When they get five minutes into dinner and realize that Father Richard is also missing, he starts to worry. 

What if Father Richard was...well, what would he do? 

The truth is, Dan doesn’t know what the big deal is with this guy. He honestly doesn’t seem to be too bad, but the control he has over Phil’s emotions is genuinely weird. Still, he doesn’t want to cause a scene. 

“Hey, Caroline!” He says, quickly jogging over to the young woman, and she gives Dan a kind smile. “Dan, hey! How have you been enjoying this so far?” She asked gently, resting a hand on his arm. “I know it can be intense, considering your, um...well, you weren’t exactly in the church before you joined us, and-”

“Caroline, it’s all great, but do you know where Phil is?”

She smiles and gives Dan’s arm a squeeze. “I’m so glad you two found each other, you know that? You guys are like-”

“Caroline.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t be mushy, even if you guys are my favorite freshmen.” She winked before waving her hand towards the door. “He’s out by the lake with Father Rich. They go way back, did you know?”

Dan nods slowly. It’s clearly not the answer he wanted, because Caroline leans in. “Don’t tell him I said this, but trust me, Phil’s not choosing Father Richard over you. You’re still his BFF.”

Wonderful. That’s the reassurance he needed right now, that Phil wasn’t going to choose a 65-year-old man to be his ‘BFF”. He manages to smile and thank Caroline before going to wait on the mess hall deck. If Richard was going to drag Phil away, then dammit, he was going to be the first to talk to him when he got back.

-

Phil doesn’t come back up to the mess hall for at least another hour. His eyes are rimmed red, and he’s alone. The second Dan hears his footsteps he shoots up. “Phil!” He shouts after he yanks his earbuds out, and Phil lets out a yelp, laughing shakily. “Oh my God, did he-did he make you cry?!”

Phil rubs his eyes quickly and giggles weakly. “Dan, I cry at everything. We cried together over that muffin in the dining hall on Wednesday, remember?” 

Dan doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but suddenly Phil’s arms are pulling him into a long hug. “We just had a long talk. Don’t tell me I missed anything?”

“They went on some dumb night hike, but-don’t tell me you wanted to go on the night hike?” He asked as he saw the disappointment on Phil���s face, frowning. “We can go! We can go right now, and meet them, and-” “Dan. Breathe, okay?” He giggled and led Dan inside. “Our group can go on our own little night hike tomorrow, I’ll survive. Besides. I haven’t gotten to spend time with you these past couple of days, and I’ve missed you.” Phil’s voice is a bit softer, and he gives him a shy smile.

Dan’s face turns red and he sits down in one of the faded couches, Phil flopping next to him. “It’s only been, like, a day and a half.” He mumbles.

“It’s been a long day and a half.” Dan nods slowly, looking up at Phil. “Is he gone?” “Yep. Just left camp now. Didn’t wanna make a fuss.” Dan can’t help but roll his eyes a bit at that, shaking his head. “Now, c’mon. Can we talk about something fun? Like…” He reaches out and snatches up an old copy of Women’s Health from a bin by the fireplace, clearly meant for kindling. “What advice can we find for two lovely women like ourselves?” 

As he flutters his eyelashes at him, Dan can’t help but laugh, grabbing the magazine from him. The two swap it back and forth, giggling like children at the stupid advice and making fun of all the pictures. The tension from before melts away, and suddenly it’s just Dan and Phil, the two of them being absolute idiots and laughing over nothing. After the last day and a half, it feels amazing to just laugh.

When they finish that one they go to the next one in the bin. They read through issues of Runner’s World, Golf Digest, Christian Living, Better Homes and Gardens, and even a Highlights before Phil’s stomach lets out a loud growl.

“Oooh, I need some food. Why don’t I go grab us some snacks from the kitchen? There’s some board games in one of the closets, find something for us to play?” 

With that, he’s up and going into the kitchen, and Dan wanders over to one of the closet doors. Sure enough, he sees some old board game boxes peeking out behind some moving boxes. Dan goes to move one out of the way when he catches a peek of the pile of brochures inside. His eyes run over the text and clip-art outline of a strong-looking man. Program Judges 6:12 at Camp Brabeck: For teen boys and young men struggling with sexual impurity.

Sexual impurity? Dan grabs the brochure and flips it open.

Today, our young men are raised in a culture where abnormal lifestyles are being accepted, even praised and celebrated. It’s no wonder that more youth than ever before are turning out oversexualized and confused, and more than ever are struggling with same-sex desires...

From there on, the words start to blur together for Dan, and he flips the brochure over.

And then Dan sees it. In the top corner is Father Richard, smiling wide.

With his hand on Phil’s shoulder. 

Dan feels his stomach churn violently as he looks at younger Phil. There’s no way it could be anyone else. Even if he’s a bit shorter, and his hair isn’t dyed, Dan’s studied Phil’s face long enough to know it’s him. As Dan grips the picture frame in his hands, Phil’s words from yesterday come back to him, hitting his chest like rocks.

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

Phil worked with Father Richard, at this-this “camp”, this place. They worked together.

“God loves us in spite of our flaws.”

Not only was Phil not gay, thus extinguishing the slightest bit of hope he had, but Phil was actively homophobic. Phil worked at a bloody conversion therapy site, for fuck’s sake.

“He’s got a path for all of us.”

Phil wasn’t uncomfortable about Father Richard-he was uncomfortable about Dan and their friends being around Father Richard, and them finding out just what a homophobic, lying, fake-

“I found Pop-Tarts!”

Phil’s voice interrupts the swirling thoughts in his head, and he slowly turns, holding the brochure up. “Were you ever going to mention this?” Phil’s face goes pale. “I...Where did you…” He whispers, but Dan growls. Actually growls. Red hot anger is taking control now as days, weeks, months, years of suffocated emotions rises to the top suddenly. A lifetime of not fitting in, a lifetime of hiding, and to be rejected by Phil-like this.

“Nice pic of you and your friend, Phil. You worked with him on this? You and Richard, two pals-and you knew we’d judge you for it, so you just decided not to tell us?!”

“Wait, wait, Dan, no. It’s not like that. That’s not what-” Phil tries to butt in. Dan isn’t having it.

“Do you realize what kind of damage you do to people, Phil?! You can’t act like-like Little Mr. Innocent about this, this is some seriously fucked up shit you’ve done!” Dan’s properly yelling now, getting to his feet and not even stopping as Phil cowers back. “And-And worst of all, you hid it from us! You talk like you love everyone, hiding behind your stupid flowery language, but you’re a total fucking hateful dick!”

Phil suddenly stands as well, putting his hands in front of his chest, but irritation is creeping into his voice. “Daniel. Listen to me, you don’t understand. I’m not hateful-” “Oh-Oh yeah? Not hateful, huh? Not hateful when you say ‘gay is an artificial construct, created to celebrate people’s sinful homosexual desires’? Or when your stupid fucking camp goes to ‘remove young men from their unhealthy environment to bring them to Jesus and see the errors they’re making’?” Dan’s reading directly from the pamphlet now. “That doesn’t sound loving, Phil!”

“Dan, let me-” “There is literally nothing you could say to make this better. You think you’re helping, don’t you? But you’re just-just spreading hate, and-” Dan’s words are cut off as Phil suddenly grabs him by the back of his head, pulling him into a hard kiss. For possibly the first time in his life, Dan is rendered speechless, especially a few moments later when Phil pulls away and his eyes well up.

“Dan…” He choked out, sinking down onto the couch and starting to sob. “I didn’t-I didn’t-” After a moment he grabs the brochure weakly. “I didn’t work at the camp.” He chokes out finally, and Dan just stands frozen in place. “I was a camper.”

Dan hates that he doesn’t know whether he should trust him or not. But...this is Phil, crying ugly, hard sobs, and he can’t help but feel his heart break in two. “A...camper?” He asks slowly, moving to sit next to him but keeping his distance.

Phil lets out a pained noise but nods. “I signed up to go. Because I kept having these-these dreams, and these urges. And I thought if I did everything right, if I listened to Father R-Richard…” He has to stop himself to catch his breath as it comes quicker, curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. “I thought if I could be perfect, I could b-be like him. A priest. A husband, to a wife. A father to my k-kids. An ex-homosexual.” He said, tears streaming down his face. “Dan, I-I tried so hard…” Dan frowns, running a hand through his hair slowly. “You can’t just-I mean, I don’t think it works like that, Phil,” Dan says after a moment, and Phil nods quickly. “I know, I know. God knows I know. They tried everything on m-me. I mean, everything. But the more they did, the more angry I got, with myself, with Richard, with God. I hated God, Dan, I hated him so much, and I did all this stuff…” Dan can’t stop himself but reaching out and taking his hand at that, and Phil clings to it almost instantly. “I lied, and I ripped up my Bible, and I did stuff with the other guys there…”

Dan blinked a few times. For Phil, that was intense, and he can hear the guilt and true sorrow in his voice. “You-I mean, no offense, but kissing a few guys and tearing up a book aren’t exactly unforgivable sins.” He says, hoping to bring him comfort. To his surprise, Phil laughs sadly.

“I did more than just kiss, trust me. When Richard found me in the showers with one of the guys-” 

At that Dan’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. Phil, who half an hour ago was blushing at ads for tampons, in the showers with a guy? “He-He decided I needed more intense therapy. It was hours and hours of just being told how disgusting I was, being shown these videos, being preached at, b-but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop feeling like I did.”

“Phil…” Dan feels his broken heart finally crumble. He pulls him into a hug, letting him sob into his hair.

“F-Finally I just lied my way th-through it. That’s what m-most of us do. And then I was th-the big success story, and they took that dumb picture, and it was finally over. I went home, and I was so mad I decided I’d go through my Bible-the nice, new one my parents had bought me, when they heard that ‘somebody’ tore up my old one-to s-see how wrong I was before and how terrible He was. So I stayed up for nearly a week, no school, no nothing. Just reading.”

Phil pulled away to reach out, grabbing his copy of the Bible from his bag “ And as I read, I…” 

He took a deep breath as he opened it up and slowly turned the pages, motioning to the Post-Its and notes littering the scripture. “I didn’t find that. I found a God that wanted me to love-He wanted me to love my family, and my friends, and my neighbors, and-and guys. He wanted me to love you. He wanted me to love you, romantically.” At that, Dan feels his heart stop and he gently moves to look Phil in the eyes. “You really think that?” He whispered, Phil nodding quickly as he ran a hand through Dan’s hair.

“God gave us all the ability to love-fully, and deeply, and wonderfully. And-And I love you, so much. I didn’t want to freak you out, and I’m not ready to be out, but-” This time it’s Dan’s turn to cut him off with a slower, gentler kiss. “Shh. We don’t have to tell anyone.” He murmured.

“It can just be us?” Phil asked in a small voice. “Just you and me?” 

At that, Dan is pretty sure he’s going to explode, because dear God that’s all he’s ever wanted. He wants to scream, he wants to jump up and down, he wants to run down the fucking mountain and throw rocks at Father Richard’s car-

Instead, Dan takes a deep breath before smiling and nodding. “Just me and you.” He agreed quietly.

He leaned in and kissed Phil again, cupping his cheeks. This time was gentler, and Phil let out a soft, relieved noise as his lips moved against Dan’s and he pulled Dan close to him.

“I love you,” Dan says once they pull away. “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Have I ever read you Proverbs 17:28?” Phil interrupts with a giggle. Dan raises an eyebrow but grabs Phil’s Bible, flipping to it.

Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.

“Did you just ask me to shut up and keep kissing you through a Bible verse?!” Dan whined, but he can’t help but grin as Phil kept laughing, nodding as he connected their lips again.

Time seems to stand still. Two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes, ten hours, ten years-Dan can only guess how much time has passed when they hear the group off in the distance. “Shit-shit, okay, one last-” Dan jerked away but Phil giggled, grabbing the plate of Pop-Tarts and Dan’s hand before dragging him outside. He took him out a bit before they got down to the lake, sitting on the sand and wrapping his arms around Dan. Dan pauses before shyly climbing into his lap, and then they’re kissing again, Phil only pausing to catch his breath and murmur “I’m sorry you thought I could be homophobic.” “I’m sorry I didn’t ask before jumping to conclusions.” “I’m sorry I didn’t open up about what had happened.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you away from Father Richard.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you away from Father Richard.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been that guy in the showers with you.” The words leave Dan’s mouth before he can stop himself-humor is a coping mechanism for him, but right now, he wants to kick himself when he hears Phil’s gasp.

“Oi! Not yet, at least.” He said with a slight laugh, pressing his lips to Dan’s cheek and watching as his face burns red. He grins and presses a few pecks to his lips before looking up at the sky. 

“...You really think God wants this for us?” Dan says and Phil closes his eyes, snuggling closer.

“‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:113 to 114’.” Phil recited quietly. “God made us fearfully-like, with great awe and respect of us-and wonderfully. He made us find each other, he made us love each other.” He kissed Dan’s nose. “So that’s us. Fearfully and wonderfully made.” Dan looks at Phil with a soft smile, a bit worn from all the excitement of the day, but feeling...free. “Fearfully and wonderfully, huh?”

Phil nods, and Dan pulls him even closer.

“I could get used to that.”

#phan #dan howell #phil lester #dan and phil #phanfiction #phanfic #phanfic au

[springday-aus]

Lifeguard!AU with Kuanlin

moodboard link

Group: solo / [formally] Wanna One

Member: Lai Kuanlin

Genre: fluff, romance

part of the Odd Summer Jobs!AU ⤗ introduction to the Summer Boys! 

check out the others on the au masterlist!

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: check out the other odd summer jobs!au on the au masterlist!

Kuanlin is the next Summer Boy! 

so, he works as a lifeguard

picture this: a lanky and gangly boy with too long of legs in some bright red board shorts with lil fire emojis on them and a lil waterproof lifeguard bag with a first aid emergency kit 

he’s CPR certified

(luckily he hasn’t had to use it yet)

anyways 

this kind of works a bit more differently than others would think

like he isn’t an official lifeguard of a pool or beach or something

but rather, he’s basically hired to supervise pool parties 

which are most typically children birthday parties

he’s mainly hired by the moms that throw the parties and the adults are too busy getting drunk or something

either way, he’s there to make sure no one drowns 

it’s not a hard job tbh

he actually really likes it 

bc all he does is get invited to pool parties, eat cake and chill with the other kids 

at first, when the other boys proposed the idea

he was hesitant 

like who needs someone to watch their kids swim like some type of creep

turns out lots of parents do 

well, at least in their neighborhood

Chenle, at some point: “the Karens just needed someone to make sure they could get loose” 

it all turned out better than he originally thought 

which is a good thing, but it was just... unexpected 

anyways 

he gets along with all ages so 

whoever is at the party, he easily gets along with 

ofc he’s keeping an eye on the people swimming and stuff 

(luckily nothing drastic has happened, it is children pool parties)

but he’s also chatting with other people and just vibing with them

so his friends list is kind of insane 

one time he was out with Jihoon and Hwiyoung 

and some fourteen year old from a birthday party had went up and started a conversation with him, catching up and all that

it was super funny 

especially due to the look on their faces like 

they were so confused 

honestly, they haven’t even seem him, like, work?

like they clearly know what he does, but they’re also confused as to how it looks 

Sanha: “so like. you just chill on the side? is there a lifeguard chair?” 

Kuanlin: “not exactly” 

Jihoon: “have you ever even had to save anyone?” 

Mingi: “isn’t it a good thing if he hasn’t?” 

speaking of which 

while most of the boys are working to save up some money 

he’s kind of just doing it for fun 

you know what that means? 

low rates lmao

you know what rich people like more than money?

being cheap

(which is how Kuanlin gets clients but like whatever) 

so, while there are some downsides to the job 

(primarily the parents that give him shit)

he does actually really like his job

there’s interesting people and interesting events that unfold at all these pool parties

(apparently Becky next door is trying to homewreck the Andersons and… some shit unfolded during her son’s birthday pool party… tea)

okay, so I can’t talk about Kuanlin and NOT mention his looks

tbh, most of the moms ask him to work for the parties, right?

but, like then see his face… and then ask him if he does pool cleanings too

it’s just to look at him, let’s be real—have you seen him?

because of the sudden demand for pool cleaning, Kaunlin also does pool cleanings

(for a higher price, obviously)

so this has become every bored, suburban mother’s wet dream in the neighborhood

you come into the picture when your family threw your cousin’s birthday party who’s turning like

five? six?

(in your defense, it’s hard to keep track of those things)

anyways, it also happened to be a pool party

so Kuanlin’s doing his thing and you’re just chilling on the side

but then a kid falls into the pool

it’s not a big deal because the kid’s got like floaties and stuff

and like Kuanlin calmly goes into the water and swoops the kid up

the kid is out of the water and the mother is scolding them, saying how they needed to be more careful and all that other parenting stuff

but doesn’t get you isn’t that he just came in and helped the kid

(because that’s… his job)

(but also bc you lowkey don’t remember that kid lmao)

what does get you (and nearly everyone else in close proximity) is how good he looks coming out of the pool

the water droplets run from his fingers to his hair and down his face, dripping down his chin and….

hmm, yup

he’s got your attention now

after he gets out, he heads towards your direction….

plopping down on the empty spot next to yours and wiping down the water with his towel

and you wanna say you were subtle with your staring

but you were absolutely not

like dude

have you seen him?

anyways

he’s just chilling so you try to make conversation

You: “nice whistle”

you point to the little pink whistle that’s on a little necklace chain

Kuanlin: “thanks, it was a gift”

You: “pink?”

Kuanlin: “yeah, I picked out the color”

You: “you know, if you looked hard enough you could probably find someone to customize it”

from that, you two hit it off

and when the party was over… you and him may or may not have left with a new number on your phones

you both kept in contact

and you’re both having a good time talking to one another and having good conversations

Kuanlin… he enjoys your company, even without you physically present

it was just like a super slow burn for anything to even really happen

bc most of the time, it was texting

like you’ll see each other sometimes in the neighborhood

he was doing his thing and you were doing yours

what changes is when you and him meet…. with a third party

that third party being…. no other than the Summer Boys!

you ran into Kuanlin as you were leaving the convenience store

y’all do the little greetings and play catch up and stuff

and some of the boys are just like

Kuanlin, honey—who is this

meanwhile the others (like Jaemin and Chenle) are like

HELLO, ANY PARTNER OF KUANLIN’S IS A PARTNER OF—wait that isn’t how that works

at some point in the introductions and chaos, Jisung and Taehyun are apologizing for the chaotic atmosphere

it’s fine tho bc you got the message

but like you didn’t see the flush on Kuanlin’s cheeks when you didn’t deny it

but like also…….. he didn’t say anything either

like neither of y’all did…. even as y’all went the entire day together

window shopping

movies

ice cream

all that fun stuff you in the summer—hanging out together was different from phone communication and y’all were definitely feeling it

even with the boys present

but like they just kind of fueled it bc

they thought y’all were already dating

like they spend a good chunk of time with Kuanlin and he looks so content as he chats with you

it’s like he’s able to talk about a lot of things with you

so when you were like, hello it’s me c:

they were like

so YOU’RE the one on the other side of the phone

and let y’all have more moments together throughout the day

with the occasional interruption

at the end of it all, he walks you home

Kuanlin: “I’m sorry if our presence kind of overwhelmed you”

You: “no! not at all! it’s been nothing but fun”

You: “you guys are very entertaining though”

Kuanlin: “it’s all fun and games until you’re banned from a movie theater”

You: “have you been banned from a movie theater???”

Kuanlin: “......that is a story for another time”

it’s kind of a short walk from where you were, but you and Kuanlin have deliberately walking slower……

eventually you get to your door and he kind of just lingers

and so do you

Kuanlin: “I guess I’ll just see you around?”

You: “yeah, and we can plan for next time?”

Kuanlin: “yeah”

he smiles, his teeth shining and his cheeks with a light blush

You: “hopefully….. it’s just the two of us next time?”

his cheeks flush to an even darker shade and silently nods

after that, you two did make some plans to hang out……………………. alone

movies

dinner

a walk in the park

all that good stuff

but it feels different from last time……… a good different

and after that…….. these dates just continue

Kuanlin is an interesting boyfriend

bc he’s kind of shy… but also not really?

he’s got a weird balance

and it works

bc he’s friendly but also not

it’s just weird to explain

this also means you have to take the initiative

sometimes he will but half of the time he’ll also back out of it

(unless you encourage him ofc)

anyways

dating lifeguard!Kuanlin means you being a horrible flirt and asking if he can do cpr on you

You: “help, you took my breath away” ;)

Kuanlin: “why are you like this”

kidding

but not really—he loves it, but he’s also super embarrassed whenever you use those cheesy lines

he still kisses you tho

also he likes to act super cool

we all know he’s a cutie

(he does aegyo for you when you ask, but he’s not anyone else exploit that)

(but we know he’s got that natural aegyo)

anyways

after the pool parties and such, you basically come to pick him and help him dry off before y’all go off on one of y’all’s dates or something

or sometimes you tag along with him

it’s interesting to really observe him and he’s really just chilling with a bunch of other kids younger than him

you also manage to make a couple of new friends at these parties too lmao

just a side note tho, for one date you two DID go out to get his lil pink whistle customized

(it’s got fire emojis to match his swimming trunks)

honestly tho, just the image of Kuanlin with the little sunscreen on his nose and bag is just so adorable

you have many candid photos of him on your phone and took two hours deciding which one would be the wallpaper vs the lockscreen

(there’s one where he’s in this matching floatie with this little girl, he’s trying to help her swim in the pool………………. super cute)

anyways

your dates are almost always interrupted by one or some of the Summer Boys

completely unintentional and intentional at the same time

it’s not a bad thing that you get along with them, but…..

when Kuanlin told them you two were officially dating……..

Lucas: “CALLED IT”

Jihoon: “you couldn’t hold it off a couple more days? I had a bet going with Jaemin—sTOP HITTING ME YOU TREE”

it’s okay, you don’t mind it because it’s all fun to observe the chaos that your boyfriend finds himself in

#admin grandma #grandma aus #aus #fluff #kpop #kpop aus #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #lai kuanlin #wanna one #wanna one kuanlin #wanna one aus #wanna one imagines #wanna one scenarios #kuanlin #kuanlin aus #kuanlin imagines #kuanlin scenarios #odd summer jobs!au #odd summer jobs!kuanlin #lifeguard!au #lifeguard!kuanlin #group: wanna one #member: lai kuanlin

[varietydisco]

Catch of the Day

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Kieran Duffy Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Mutual Pining, Crushes, First Kiss, Both of them being mildly touch-starved, Kieran rubbing down Arthur “butterball” Morgan with aloe vera Word count: 4500

Description: Arthur and Kieran let their minds wander on an unsuccessful fishing trip, and Arthur gets a sunburn.

Arthur felt his presence before Kieran even had the chance to say a word.

Kieran walked quietly, as if he were afraid to make too much noise or to assert himself into his surroundings. He seemed to slink around camp, shoulders slumped and head down, despite being surprisingly tall and just as lanky. He had an air about him, though, that was impossible to miss; sitting alone at the table scribbling in his journal, it made the hairs on the back of Arthur’s neck stand up when he felt Kieran looking at him.

Kieran seemed to do a lot of looking these days, though that could have just been a coincidence.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder.

Sure enough, Kieran was standing a few feet off, all gangly limbs and strange uncertainty about himself. He held a fishing pole and a bucket in both his hands, with a worried expression. When Arthur looked at him, Kieran seemed to jolt, as if he weren’t expecting this development, and a little like he was ready to take off and run.

Arthur gave Kieran a second to speak, and when he didn’t, Arthur took the lead into the conversation.

“Mornin’.” He greeted, despite it being closer to noon by then. He flipped his journal shut and twisted around in his seat. “Whaddya need?”

“N— nothin’,” Kieran replied almost instantly, tripping over his words.

“Well, obviously there’s somethin’,” Arthur said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be ooglin’ me.”

Kieran’s cheeks flushed hot. His eyes dropped to the ground and the words sounded as though they were tumbling out of his mouth.

“I— I wasn’t ooglin’ ya! I was just… Well…”

A lot of people commented on how much more confident Kieran had gotten since they let him loose from the tree. He still had that damn stutter, but he was slowly getting less afraid to talk to people and speak his mind. Awful with looking people in the eye yet, which was something that bothered Dutch to no end (but really, what did he expect from a glorified ex-O’Driscoll-whipping-boy?). Otherwise, he was getting better, according to the others.

Arthur didn’t seem to get that from Kieran; he got an awkward man with a secret on his mind that was eating him inside out. If Arthur were better at reading people, he might try to figure out what Kieran was hiding, but he just wasn’t, so he stayed weary of the other man best he could.

“I’m tryin’ to rally my nerves, is all.” Kieran finally finished.

“So, you do want a favour.”

“No, not exactly. I— Well…”

“You’re wastin’ my goddamn time, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran’s freckled cheeks flared red. Despite the nerves which still wracked his voice and held his shoulders, he managed to sound more assertive.

“I told yous a million times over— I ain’t no O’Driscoll. I hate when y’all call me that. I’m… I’m more van der Linde than I ever was O’Driscoll.”

Arthur sort of half-shrugged his shoulders, before settling back and crossing his arms. Quickly, he scraped his eyes over Kieran’s lanky body. There was nothing in particular to note, except that when he got defensive and annoyed he stood a little straighter and a little taller, almost enough that it made him look good. Or at least better.

Arthur didn’t want to approach where that thought came from, so he quickly pushed it right back down.

“Just tell me what you want an’ be done with it. No sense runnin’ circles.”

“I’m only— I was wonderin’ if you’d wanna go fishin’ with me.” Kieran finally said. For emphasis, he shook the bucket in his left hand; it rattled presumably with extra hooks and bait.

Arthur looked at the bucket, then Kieran, then to the rest of the camp beyond him.

As the afternoon heat started settling in, most of the people had drifted away from their work towards whatever shady spots they could find instead. Either laid-up under tents to sleep away the heat or tucked under outcroppings from the waggons while they chatted quietly among themselves, the entire camp had fallen into a peaceful hush. There was no loud talking, or nagging, and most surprisingly of all, no arguing. Usually the heat brought out the worst in people, but for some reason, not today.

A secret little part of Arthur loved the thought of getting away from camp today. If he waited too long, Dutch or Pearson or one of the girls or someone would come wandering around, asking him for this or that. An errand to run in town, a trinket to go find, a harebrained scheme that would promise them big pay for a little elbow grease. Frankly, Arthur wasn’t in the mood for any of it. A day of peace might do him good.

Arthur turned his eyes back to Kieran and narrowed them. Being skeptical was always in his best interest.

“Why?” Arthur inquired. “I thought the fish didn’t bite this time of day… Somethin’ about the sun, or the bugs on the water.”

Under his intense gaze, Kieran acted funny. He wet his lips, shifted his feet, and dropped his eyes. His shoulders slumped forward again, as if what little confidence he had before was sucked out of him.

“Well, you’re— you’re the nicest person here to me. We did good the last time we went fishin’, too.” Kieran admitted. “And I figured you— well, I figured you needed some rest. You’re always runnin’ around for the others an’ I ain’t ever— p- pardon me sayin’, but I ain’t ever seen you sit your ass down anywhere for long. An’ fishin’, it’s just…”

The words were falling quick and nervous out of Kieran’s mouth. “It’s just sittin’ on your ass. Relaxin’.”

Arthur tilted his head back a little bit. Despite himself, he cocked his brow and smirked with the corner of his lips.

“Spend a lot of time thinkin’ about my ass an’ what I do with it, O’Driscoll?”

Kieran’s eyes bugged.

“That ain’t what I said at all!”

Admittedly, his reaction made Arthur laugh. Deep and quiet, Arthur settled back in his chair as he chuckled.

Kieran’s face went red up to his ears as he shook his own head. He chewed his lip and went to turn on his heels.

“Nevermind my askin’. M’ sorry to bother you.”

Arthur scoffed as soon as Kieran started to walk away. He uncrossed his arms, sat forward and waved his hand.

“Come on, now. I’m only teasin’.” Arthur said. He waited until Kieran looked back at him to keep talking, carefully. “I never said I wouldn’t come. I reckon it’d be nice… Relaxin’, an’ whatnot.”

Kieran perked up. Despite his nerves and doubts and every other weird, squirming feeling inside of him at the sight of Arthur’s bright blue eyes that he’d rather ignore, Kieran couldn’t help himself being drawn in. He smiled, a small quirk in his lips that quickly broke into something more excited.

For a second, the sight of it made Arthur forget what he was going to say.

Kieran didn’t seem to smile a lot, but then again, why would he? Not a lot to make you smile when you were the butt of everybody’s jokes.

But he had a great smile, Arthur had to admit, whether he wanted to or not.

Arthur cleared his throat and rose to his feet. As he went, he grabbed his journal and tucked it firmly under his arm.

“I ain’t much of a fisherman, though.” Arthur warned. “You know that.”

“Don’t matter. Most of the fun’s in the company, anyhow.”

Arthur pursed his lips. He couldn’t help but notice how Kieran’s eyes flickered to his mouth.

“Hold yourself in pretty good esteem?”

Even though Kieran still had that same nervous look to him, he kept smiling.

“Not hardly. I just think… We get along good, is all.”

Something about Kieran’s genuine smile made Arthur’s heart ache. He pushed it down, forced away his own smile, and only offered a nod in reply.

“…Yeah, you’re alright.”

—30—

By the time they got to their private nook on Flat Iron Lake, the sun was high in the sky and impossibly hot and stifling. Sweat rolled liberally down the sides of Arthur’s jaw and collected in his stubble, sticky and uncomfortable. There was hardly any shade for them, so the sun beat down awful vicious. Arthur felt the burn of his shirt against his shoulders.

But, for some reason, the peace was nice. All things considered.

Kieran talked, mostly about nothing and mostly just to fill the silence. His voice regained some of that confidence people were always commenting on. While they casted their lines and slowly reeled in, Kieran’s words floated up into the hot summer air and kept Arthur entertained.

“You know I— I heard once that there’s catfish in some lakes that’ve gotten so big they could eat a man,” Kieran said. His eyes were trained on the water, as he sat on the sandy bank and reeled his rod. “Heard that’s why in some places, they… They don’t eat the catfish. ‘Cause they’ve fed on humans.”

Their conversation was following a train of thought, constantly shifting topic and moving this way and that. Considering how quiet he normally was, Arthur just appreciated that there was someone to take the lead in the conversation.

“So, if we catch a real fat one,” Arthur mused. He reached up to wipe his forehead on his arm. “We ought to assume Pearson fell in the lake and got made dinner?”

Kieran laughed, short and surprised. Arthur glanced to the side in time to see it happen, and almost wished he hadn’t.

Seeing Kieran smile and watching his eyes crinkle as he laughed made Arthur’s heart ache again. There were so many implications to it that Arthur didn’t want to think about, much less dwell on or try to dissect.

He didn’t want to think about how Kieran’s presence made him feel, or the way the hairs on his arms and neck rose when he felt Kieran looking at him. And the last thing Arthur needed to be thinking about was how Kieran looked then, and how he wished he could have immortalized the scene in a drawing, with Kieran’s straw hat pulled low to his eyes, his body pitching forward slightly as he laughed, the quirk in his thin lips and the way his eyes crinkled at the edges. Arthur didn’t need to think about how much warmth and light Kieran managed to hide in that nervous face of his.

Maybe Kieran felt Arthur staring at him, because as his laughter died he looked to the side. His smile kind of dipped, shifted towards uncertainty.

“S— somethin’ wrong?” Kieran asked. His own heart thundered so loud in his chest, he prayed that Arthur couldn’t hear it.

Arthur never had a way with words. He had them all in his head, but never the means to express them proper. Instead of answering truthfully, Arthur shook his head, turned his eyes down, and drawled out a, “Naw. It’s nothin’.”

—30—

They didn’t catch a lot, and most of what they did were too small to keep. Even though their bucket was mostly empty, it was still in good fun; the peace and the quiet was better than anything else. For a few hours, at least, Kieran was glad to be away from the loud voices at camp mocking or teasing him.

Arthur was great company, all things considered. While they fished, and after their conversation had tapered off into sparse silence, Kieran kept stealing little glances at the other man.

Progressively, over the course of their fishing trip, Arthur had been undoing buttons from his shirt, trying to invite the weak breeze onto his skin. He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and all the buttons undone on his front. His shirt basically hung off his shoulders, presenting all the soft, hairy rolls underneath.

Even though he was an outlaw on the run, he was still pudgy and heavy-set. Kieran knew better than to stare, lest he be caught and teased or chastised for it, but it felt impossible to look away. The sight made Kieran smile, and a collection of feelings and thoughts rush through his mind.

Arthur’s line snagged and immediately he jumped into action. He jerked the rod, and started to reel, though quickly the line went slack again.

As frustration crossed his face, Kieran laughed gently.

“You ain’t caught a single thing, just about.” Kieran pointed out with a grin. “You’ve just been feedin’ the fish all day.”

“I told’ja, I ain’t no fisherman.” Arthur replied, trying to mask his annoyance.

He reeled in his line quickly, shook his head at the empty hook when he examined it, and then baited it up with another worm.

Kieran watched Arthur’s hands work, impossibly big and rough, yet still deft and delicate in their movements.

“It’s all in how you reel,” Kieran eventually said, after Arthur casted his line again. “I could show ya.”

Arthur held his rod out to the side. “By all means.”

Kieran took the chance to scoot in closer to Arthur. The sandy beach shifted, hot and imposing under his legs; somehow, though, when his shoulder brushed with Arthur’s, it felt even hotter.

“You’ve got a good cast,” Kieran explained, keeping his eyes down on their hands. “But when you feel a bite, y’ gotta give it a hard, quick yank. Make sure that sucker stays on…”

Kieran placed his hand over Arthur’s and adjusted it. Arthur fell completely silent, settled instead on watching Kieran.

His eyes flicked between Kieran’s face and their hands, his heart starting to race. Maybe it was because people’s hands on Arthur usually had the intent to hurt, and that’s why it felt so hot and odd. Not exactly unfamiliar, just… Different. Good, in a way. Too good. Arthur’s mouth felt kind of dry.

Then, just as soon as Kieran’s hands were there, they were gone again; taken back quick and wrapped around his own fishing rod again, as though it had been a mistake to make contact at all.

“Then you just gotta… Keep reelin’.” Kieran finished. He wet his lips and glanced towards the water, away from Arthur. Feeling awkward and strange himself, with the lingering sensation of Kieran’s hands on his own, Arthur did the same. “If you pull the line too much, it’ll… It’ll dislodge the hook. Then the fish gets away with the bait.”

Arthur nodded. Under the brim of his hat, his shaded cheeks felt hot.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“No problem.” Kieran replied just as weakly.

Silence overcame them, aside from Arthur clearing his throat and them quietly reeling in or casting out. It took a few seconds, but Arthur soon realized that Kieran never moved back to his spot. They stayed together, shoulders barely touching.

“You’re awful close,” Arthur pointed out, maybe because he felt an obligation to. It didn’t feel quite right to admit that he liked it.

Kieran glanced to him.

“Oh. I guess I am.” There was something uncertain in his expression as Kieran smiled with the corner of his mouth. “Do you mind it?”

Arthur didn’t know what to say right off, so he mumbled, “Not especially.”

Kieran didn’t look away immediately and neither did Arthur. They kind of gazed at each other for a long moment and it left Arthur unsure and nervous, because sitting this close he noticed how pretty Kieran’s eyes were, and that was something he would rather have not to think about.

“This is nice, don’tcha think?” Kieran asked. “Nothin’ to worry about, nobody wantin’ anythin’ outta ya.”

“It’s different.” Arthur admitted. He couldn’t be sure if he were referring to Kieran’s statement or his own feelings.

“We ought to do this more often. At least for your sake.” Kieran laughed weakly. He turned back towards the water. “What, with the way they’s run you ragged at camp…”

“How many times can you see my ugly mug before you get sick of it?” Arthur inquired. “Or do you just enjoy bein’ the most competent man in the area?”

“What? No! ‘Course not.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth quirked with a smile.

“Oh, sure.”

“Honest and true,” Kieran insisted. “Its like I said, I— I just enjoy your company.”

“Nobody just ‘enjoys my company’ unless they want somethin’ or they’re sick in the head.” Arthur said it as a joke, in his own gruff way, but Kieran didn’t laugh or smile. Instead, Kieran paused, kind of furrowed his brows together in worry.

“You don’t really think like that, do ya?”

Arthur’s stomach twisted and he quietly faltered. It took him a second to shake off the comment.

“Come on, I don’t need pity from an O’Driscoll. It’s just a joke, is all.”

“Well, alright…” Kieran’s voice trailed off, and even as they both looked back to the water, he stole glances at Arthur through the corner of his eye. “…I don’t think it’s true, though. I think you’re fine company to keep.”

“You don’t know me very well, apparently.” Arthur felt a tug on his line, so he jerked the rod and did as Kieran showed him. “Or you’ve got a terrible judge of character. I kept you chained to a tree.”

“We all done things we ain’t proud of,” Kieran said. He let his own line lay to waste as he watched Arthur reel.

Arthur grunted with effort. “Who says I ain’t proud of it?”

“I like to think I know you better’n that.”

“You barely know me at all.”

Arthur tugged and reeled, and then stood up to get a better grip. Whatever was on the end of his line put up an awful fight.

Kieran’s eyes quickly looked over Arthur’s form, before they settled on his face.

“If that’s what you think, then I…” Kieran hesitated a second. “…I’d like to get to know you better, Mister Arthur.”

Arthur casted a quick glance to Kieran, part flustered and confused and unsure what to think, then pulled his catch out of the water with a great yank.

—30—

Arthur caught their biggest catch of the day because of course he did. As with all things, even though he put himself down, he excelled in the end.

Kieran didn’t have it in him to be jealous or angry about it, though. If anything, he was impressed, enthralled; starstruck, maybe, if it didn’t sound so cheesy to admit. When they came strolling back into camp that afternoon and Arthur handed his catch off to Pearson to be gutted and cleaned, people gawked and congratulated him and commented on how the fish had to be as big as Jack. Per usual, Kieran hung to the background, mostly forgotten and unnoticed. He didn’t mind.

He spent the whole day with Arthur, and that was more than he could have asked for. Except at one point, while a few people admired his catch, Kieran caught Arthur glancing over at him and giving him a small, crooked smile.

It made Kieran’s heart leap, his knees feel weak.

The smile only lasted a second, because quickly Arthur had to return to his scowl, lest people know that he wasn’t as rough, tough, and mean that he tried to sell himself as. Kieran didn’t mind, not really; he savoured the thought of Arthur smiling at him, then went about his work. He offered to help clean the fish for Pearson while the excitement around camp died down, and after that was done Kieran slunk back towards his own station by the horses. Back to the routine he knew.

Except he couldn’t stop thinking about Arthur. From his small smile to the power in his body when he rose up and reeled his fish in— it all stuck with Kieran, made him feel antsy and flustered like a teenager.

It also made him pause as he passed by Arthur’s tent, and note that the door of such was wide open.

Kieran didn’t try to be sneaky as he looked in. Struck with curiosity, Kieran openly peaked inside.

Arthur was sat on the cot, shirtless, as he rubbed ointment up and down his strong arms. His expression was stern and set. It twisted a little here and there as he rubbed himself down, no doubt dealing with the on-set sunburn from the afternoon. He applied more ointment to his hand, then reached behind himself to get at his shoulders.

Arthur didn’t look up, but his voice rang out, deep and commanding, “Kieran Duffy, quit that starin’. What d’you need?”

Kieran jolted and was suddenly overcame with the desire to run. He felt shame swell in his chest, like he was a peeping tom that had been caught in the act.

“I— I don’t need nothin’,” Kieran replied. He shifted towards the open front of Arthur’s tent. “How come you keep thinkin’ I do…?”

“Remember what we talked about? With you wastin’ my time?” Arthur twisted his body to try and reach his back with the ointment, but seemingly he had little success.

Flustered, Kieran looked at the ground.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. His eyes trailed back up to Arthur, quickly scanning over his heavy-set and half-naked body.

Watching Arthur struggle to apply his ointment was comparable to watching a seal try to wriggle back into the sea. It was like a disaster you couldn’t look away from.

After a moment of Arthur pretending that he didn’t notice Kieran was still there, and that he wasn’t getting embarrassed, Kieran spoke up.

“I could help you with that, mister Arthur.” The words felt heavy and laden with unspoken thoughts. Kieran swallowed, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Or I could… Grab one of the girls to help ya…”

Arthur gave up trying to rub himself down and motioned his hand with a scoff. He didn’t look Kieran in the eye.

“Just get in here. Close the door behind you.”

Kieran didn’t need to be asked twice. He didn’t want to see who might be watching them, so Kieran ducked inside and tied the tent door shut with his eyes set forward. It was warm and a little stuffy in the tent, as the remainder of the hot afternoon sun burned off, but it was shady, at least.

Arthur twisted himself around, to put his back to Kieran, and held out the tub of ointment. As Kieran slid down onto the edge of the bed, he took the tub.

“You look pretty worse for wear, mister Arthur,” Kieran commented. As he dug into the container, he eyed Arthur’s bright red and painful looking back and shoulders.

“Ain’t gotta tell me.” Arthur grunted. His voice tapered off and went silent a moment. “…Just call me Arthur. No sense in formalities.”

“Okay… You got it.”

Kieran hesitated a second, the ointment in his palm and his hand awkwardly held in front of him. It took more courage than it should have to actually lay his hand across Arthur’s back.

It was in part because of the tension he felt in his chest. Kieran felt almost lightheaded at the thought that he was getting to touch Arthur beyond a slap on the shoulder or a handshake or something like that. But it was also the uncertainty that it was Arthur Morgan he was touching— a man who, in the past, had shown he wasn’t to be trifled with.

They were both silent, deep in their own similar thoughts.

Kieran’s heart slammed. His eyes groped along Arthur’s naked back, as he tried to keep his mind clear. Similarly, Arthur did everything in his power not to think about Kieran— not the way he touched him, and how it was the gentlest anyone had treated him in a long while.

There was an undeniable stirring excitement between them, like a low rumble. Kieran slid his hands across Arthur’s broad shoulders and then down his shoulder blades, following the dip of his spine to the slight rolls at his hips.  Arthur shifted, grimacing and sighing, as he gripped the pantleg of his jeans to keep himself focused.

Briefly, they parted as Kieran dug more ointment from the tin and Arthur let go of a deep breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Sorry if I’m hurtin’ you any,” Kieran mumbled.

“You ain’t, don’t worry. Been through worse than this.”

“An’ it ain’t… Weird, or nothin’?” Kieran treaded carefully. He slid his hands over Arthur’s lower back and he thought he could melt. “It bein’ me doin’ this for ya? ‘Cause I ain’t one of the girls, or, well…”

A shiver shot down Arthur’s spine.

“I don’t mind. Wouldn’t be my first choice havin’ one of them rubbin’ me down, anyway.”

“Really?” Kieran flushed and smiled a bit. His hands slid down to Arthur’s sides. “I figured you an’ Mary-Beth, just on how she looks at ya—”

Arthur couldn’t take much more. Despite the pain in his burnt shoulders which ebbed through him, Arthur twisted around. Kieran faltered himself, voice trailing off as Arthur stared him down.

“Trust me, Duffy, I’m sure.”

All the tension and emotions that had built up inside of Arthur were catalysed by Kieran’s touch. So, against his better judgement, Arthur grabbed Kieran by the cheeks and kissed him full on the lips, hard and uncoordinated.

Kieran’s eyes shot open with shock first. Arthur’s weight leaned into his skinny body and Kieran realized then that this was real; Arthur Morgan was kissing him.

So, Kieran took it in stride. He threw his hands into Arthur’s hair, pulled him in, and kissed him just as hard.

They kind of fell together like they were meant to fit against one another. Though weary at first, quickly Kieran fell into rhythm with Arthur’s moving lips and gained his own confidence. Arthur tilted Kieran’s head back and kissed more into his mouth, earning a soft moan from the latter. Ultimately, when Arthur leaned back, Kieran fell in on top of him.

Kieran’s heart raced and the extent it all hit him a second later. He realized then that he was mostly laid down on top of Arthur. With shaking arms, Kieran planted his hands on the cot beside Arthur’s head and pulled himself up, breaking their kiss.

“Uh,” Kieran started, only to be cut off by Arthur who shook his head. He sounded a breathless, and his lips looked incredibly inviting.

“Don’t say nothin’,” he warned.

But Kieran spoke anyway, with a slow smile and curious voice.

“How… How long’ve you been waitin’ to do that?”

A strange expression crossed Arthur’s face that was equal parts confused and shocked with his own actions. It settled after a second, when his eyes focused in on Kieran again. It made the latter’s heart race.

Arthur shook his head.

“Too damn long,” he replied, and then he kissed Kieran again.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #kieran duffy #arthur/kieran #people go on abt ship names n shit but tbh i... dont know any of them #aside from like. two #my fic #sorry its gay and long?? #kierthur

[doctorspencereid]

Because of Me Pt.1 ( Spencer Reid x Reader )

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When a mysterious unsub decides to challenge Spencer Reid, you are dragged into this mess in the worst way possible. This is part 1 of a two - part fic.  PART 2 

Word Count: 3.4k

Setting: Somewhere in the zone of Seasons 4 - 7

Warnings: abduction

To say say that Spencer’s lecture wasn’t going well would be an understatement. The crowd looked absent, bored. They looked back up at him as though he were an alien speaking in foreign tongues. This always baffled Spencer, he had difficulties connecting with people when it came to one on one encounters … lectures were slightly more complex than the average social encounter. He, himself, had always been fascinated by a wide array of topics and found them interesting. Particularly the subject of this lecture; the micro-details that accompanied profiling, the smaller pieces of the puzzle that truly made the picture what it was. Spencer Reid had chosen to accompany David Rossi to his latest book signing, and when Rossi had asked him to do a lecture while he got ready, Spencer had been more than willing to oblige. Now though, that he was on stage speaking to people who would rather watch true crime videos than listen to him speak, well it made it easy to remember that these people weren’t here to see him. They were sitting through the ‘boring’ part of the event before the star of the show came out greet his adoring fans. This didn’t upset Spencer per say, but it wasn’t a confidence boost by any means.

Rossi came out sooner than expected and he was alerted to that by the sudden roar of the crowd that drowned out the tail end of his sentence. Spencer stood there awkwardly silent, waiting for them to quiet down. Though it took roughly two minutes before that happened. Rossi came up to Spencer, patting the boy genius on the back with a hearty laugh and subtly motioning him off the stage. He wasn’t entirely socially aware all of the time, but he could take a hint ( most of the time). The BAU agent left the stage with relief, the eyes of the crowd gliding past him as though he weren’t so much as anything. His long legs carried him out of the room and into the hallway outside of the hotel’s conference room where the signing was being held. The lanky genius sighed and propped up against a pillar, willing to wait for Rossi to wrap up. Though he knew in the back of his head that it would be awhile before Rossi finished with his fans.

The sound of gentle footsteps drew Spencer’s attention. A girl with a timid smile emerged from the conference room, clutching Rossi’s book with both hands. She was maybe three years younger than himself, and yet she regarded him with an odd look. Though it wasn’t in the same world of odd in which the audience had given him. They had peered at him as though he were from a different universe, she looked at him as though she were wondering if she recognized him or not.

“ Dr. Reid? ” She asked, lifting both brows in question, “ I’m Y/N  Y/L/N … I just wanted to tell you that I found your lecture very interesting and thought provoking. It’s honestly so incredible how much the smaller details matter in creating a profile. ” Y/N gushed, her eyes were glittering the way someone’s eyes only could when they were passionate about the topic. Spencer smiled wryly, appreciative that at least someone in that crowd heard him.

“ Well, I’m glad you think so, you might just be the only one.” Spencer thanked, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He paused, noticing a figure behind her. He peered over Y/N’s head easily, looking past her to a man lingering by the door. Then, with a calm smile, he turned and walked back into the conference room. With a shake of his head, Spencer cleared his thoughts and shifted his eyes back to the girl in front of him. Spencer licked his dry lips and looked from the doorframe and back to her. “ Is, um, is profiling something that interests you?” he asked gently, his eyebrows knitting together.  

Her eyes flashed and she nodded eagerly, her hands flipping the book over and over in her grasp. Nerves. He noted this, but didn’t think on it too much. “ Yeah, I’m about to graduate with a major in Criminology and a minor in Psychology,” Y/N explained, the true pride she took in her work evident. “ You could say I care a lot about the inner workings of the mind.”

Reid’s brows lifted minutely, well then she was someone who did take genuine interest in the topic.“ I’ve read  a few of your articles, it’s incredible the way you break down your theories and experiences.”

Without any control of his own, the edges of his mouth lifted. She knew his work and didn’t think him to be some rambling weirdo. Well, maybe she did. But even if she did, at least she didn’t treat him like it. The nerves explained themselves, if she’d read into his work then she’d already formed her own perception of it and himself. It wasn’t often that Spencer encountered excitable people around his own age that had genuine interest in the same thing. “ Er, yeah. People have a tendency to overlook the smaller points. And when they finally do take notice, it’s almost too late.” he agreed, half smiling. Her face lit up and her smile fanned out brilliantly. Spencer’s mind was prodding at him to find out more about the scholar.

“ Yeah, right. Exactly, finally someone gets it. ” Y/N mumbled, peering down at her feet. She looked up again, seemingly more resigned now,“ I, um, I have class in about an hour, so maybe we could finish this talk over coffee?. . If you don’t mind, that is.” She didn’t look away, trying to gauge his reaction. Spencer found himself nodding, without thinking about it even.

“ I wouldn’t mind at all, actually.”

“ Great. How about two days from now then, around 2? There’s a nice little shop down the block and their espresso is to die for.”

“ I’ll see you then.”

If Spencer weren’t blessed with an eidetic memory then the whole exchange might’ve just flown past him numbly. Only the nerves that rattled in his brain brought it into clear focus, one where

he was all too aware of his gangly limbs and semi - awkward idiosyncrasies. Was this a sort of date? Maybe, Spencer didn’t do those often. It was as if he were on auto-pilot. Or, he had been until he’d made his way out to the parking lot and encountered a note waiting for him on the windshield. Rossi had been so encaptured in his own recounting of the signing that  he hadn’t taken notice to the small slip of paper Spencer plucked up. It was a small, plain note which was unassuming aside from the precise handwriting sitting perfectly in it’s center.

Let’s see how smart you are.

The corner of the page had a number 6, simple and seemingly unrelated. The note looked up at him with a challenge plain in the tone, and it alarmed him. He wasn’t afraid, and part of him wanted to think it might’ve been a prank from one of the people in attendance to the lecture. Maybe they were trying to strike back at him for taking up some of their day. It would be an odd retaliation maneuver, but Spencer didn’t want to jump to conclusions straight off. Still, the note raised his guard and the grim reality of the nightmare they inhabited sank back into his bones. He tried to push it to the back of mind, and maybe it could melt away.

He remained quiet on the drive home, ignoring the crumpled note in his pocket. Spencer let Rossi dominate the conversation, not that it was hard. It seemed easier to let his mind wander than to ignore something so feverently. His thoughts shifted from his encounter with Y/N, to his failed lecture, and to the case they were working on back at the BAU. Beneath that though, his thoughts kept slipping back to the note. Spencer resolved to himself that he would think on it more once he was home, alone. This was a move, and a game had begun. He simply hoped he had enough knowledge to win.

He awoke tired the next morning, having stayed up light trying to figure out what he could based on the small sentence that had been carefully drafted. Moreover, he was trying to determine if it was something he should bother about further. He did his best to pull himself together, though his tired eyes combated against any attempts Spencer made. Then, as he was leaving a small piece of paper fluttered down from his door. He scanned the hall, trying to see if whoever had left it might still be lurking. When he decided that there was in fact no one there, he retrieved it and swallowed dryly. Whoever it was, they were encroaching into his space and that alone was more unsettling than any of the notes were. Spencer read the note slowly, rereading it over and over.

You’re going to lose, doctor.

There, in the bottom was the number 9. If the last note had been a challenge, this had been a threat. Or maybe, a taunt. A way to lure him in further into the game. Part of him was annoyed knowing that this wouldn’t make sense, not yet. It was like the horrifying understanding that you felt when you knew the only way understand an unsub’s pattern was to wait for them to dump another body. It was an unwanted but necessary component. He needed another note, another piece of the puzzle. It wasn’t an image, it was a leaf, and a pebble, it wasn’t a whole picture yet. At work, his attention was taken up by the tiny scrawls of paper. He filled out forms and files almost mindlessly. He hardly noticed the coffee JJ left on his desk, or when Morgan had dropped by to check on how he was holding up.

When he wasn’t sifting through case files, he was trying to build up a profile. It was harder when he was running on almost no information though. It was definitely someone on par intellectually, someone who was clever. He might be dealing with a narcissist, normal people don’t go challenging others to an intellectual pissing contest. The unsub didn’t stand out too much, seeing as he was able to get into the apartment complex with ease, he may have appeared normal to the average person. It did dawn on Spencer that were the team involved, things might have moved faster. But he didn’t want to involve them yet, as of yet the unsub hadn’t proved dangerous. This was a personal dilemma. As the day drew to a close, Morgan drew him aside with drawn together brows and curiosity gleaming in his dark eyes.

“ Hey, Reid, you alright? You’ve been off all day, don’t think we haven’t noticed. ” Derek questioned, crossing his arms against his chest. He seemed to watch Spencer with the concern of an older sibling. Spencer shrugged, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“ Everything’s fine, nothing I can’t handle. ” He murmured, shaking his head and standing up to collect his things. Morgan clearly had his doubts, with a raised brow he silently questioned the younger agent.

“ Are you sure, because-”

“ I’ve got it, alright? Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer cut him off, the guilt seeping in almost immediately. He swallowed and looked down, gathering his things and walking past Derek. He’d explain when this  was over, but as of that moment he needed to focus and he didn’t have the time to be questioned and prodded. It was as he was leaving the building that a reminder drew him back from the crazy. Tomorrow he would be meeting Y/N again, this settled some of his nerves. She was enough to lift his spirits a bit, maybe he could even relay this to her and see if she could pick up on anything he might’ve missed. She had been there the day that this had all started.

The next day rolled in and Spencer had gotten a bit more sleep. So when he woke, he found himself trying a bit harder to look more like a person and less like a haphazard scientist. Still, he wasn’t pulling any showstoppers. Maybe a less wrinkled shirt, or a darker cardigan. Spencer needed to get through his work day first, that was the first obstacle. It went by quietly, he remained at his desk, working his way through a mountain of paperwork with little strain. Spencer noted that Morgan was eyeing him oddly, though he didn’t seem eager to approach Spencer any time soon. The doctor made a note to apologize later, but first he’d get through this.

Two rolled around faster than he’d anticipated, Spencer left work with a nervous sort of jitter and found himself driving down the street of the hotel. Down at the corner, a cafe drew in customers off the curb. He assumed that was the shop he was to meet Y/N at. All the notes were folded in his pocket. Spencer entered the store, greeted with the sharp scent of coffee beans, but he didn’t catch sight of Y/N. Roughly twenty minutes passed by without a notification before Spencer accepted that she wasn’t coming. Disappointment and the sting of embarrassment pulled at him, he shook his head and stood, headed for the door. Then, as he was scanning one last time, he realized something odd. In the corner, resting on a table, a single coffee had gone untouched since he’d first arrived. Which was odd, given that the place was so busy it was unlikely someone was going to leave their cup unattended. And the price point of the drinks meant someone simply wasn’t going to leave a cup discarded. Spencer approached the corner and lifted the drink. Sitting beneath it was another note, the words in the center rimmed with coffee stains.

You snooze, you lose. Find me and you can find her.

His heart rate quickened, at the bottom of the page the number 2 was scrawled. This was a reveal, the opponent unleashing his play and waiting to see the next move. This was a game with high stakes, where Spencer’s next move couldn’t be a risk, it had to be calculated excellence. He gripped the note and stormed out, fighting against traffic to get back to hq. He’d find her, he owed it to her for accidentally getting her involved.

Spencer rushed unto the bullpen, nearly colliding with Emily who had held a hand out to steady him. An expression of surprise and light concern drew together the lines of her face, she let out a breathy chuckle, “ Woah, Spencer. What’s the rush? Some exciting article about Albert Einstein and Quant-”

“ There is a woman missing, and I’m not sure how long she has, Emily.” Spencer rushed, pulling the notes from his pocket and lining them up in the order he’d received them. He pressed them into Emily’s hands, his mouth set into a firm line. Her own face had gone flat, melting into the serene mask of someone who knew personal tragedy. But in her eyes was the cold steel that signified her as an agent of the bureau.

“Who is she?”

Y/N’s face flashed through his head and he was struck with a pang of guilt. Spencer hadn’t managed to get attached yet, but he felt the remorse all the same. This was someone who ahd spoken to him with a fire and wonder about things she genuinely found fascinating. Her eyes had lit up with curiosity. She was a scholar and maybe even one day, she could have been an agent. But now she was a pawn in this crooked game. His next moves were vital.  “ Y/N Y/L/N . Her name is Y/N. She’s about average female height with Y/E/C and Y/H/C. I’m assuming she was last seen at a cafe down by Jefferson Avenue, that’s where I found the last one.”

Emily looked at him from beneath her lashes, questions presenting themselves on her features. “ Reid, how long have you been getting these? He sounds almost comfortable writing to you ... like he knows you.”

“ Two days now,” He admitted, ignoring the surprise on her face, “ It didn’t seem worth mentioning before, but now it is. He wants to challenge me, and he wants to win.”

Emily shook her head, shuffling between the notes, every now and then looking back to Reid for some answer he couldn’t provide.“ Right, but if this is about you and him ... then why take her? She doesn’t fit into his fantasy, ”

He nodded, his fist resting under his chin. “ It could be one of two things, either she’s an acting surrogate fromone in his life, maybe a daughter. Her connection to me could signify that a young man in his life threatened his role in her life. Or, he could be trying to put pressure on me, to get me thinking irrationally enough to where I’ll make a mistake.”

“ If you’re right then maybe he lost someone in his life to someone like you, and this is his way of getting her back,” She suggested, starting back towards their desks, shaking her head as she walked, “ and simultaneously getting back at who took her from him.”

Spencer swallowed dryly, crossing his arms against his chest. “ We’re looking at a challenger.” He was so immersed in their exchange that he hadn’t noticed when Rossi and Morgan had circled around them, listening and peering at each other.

“ So, someone’s got it out for Reid? What did pretty boy do?” Morgan questioned, still not quite looking at Reid, he was staring at Prentiss and the notes clasped in her grip.

The youngest of the agents cleared his throat, looking down at his hands, “ He wants to beat me, maybe to reassure himself or establish dominance. But this is a game of wits to him, so he’s trying to outsmart me. Prove he’s better, somehow. ”

“ Which probably means he feels he’s lacking in some department, normally I’d assume impotence but this guy is driven by a need for intellectual superiority. Maybe a professor, or engineer.” Rossie injected himself into the discussion, watching Spencer closely, “ It’s likely you’re a stand - in for someone in his life who’s gotten the best of him. Maybe a young kid he mentored, someone who surpassed him somehow.”

Derek turned sharply suddenly, and the team followed the familiar hallway to Penelope Garcia’s lair. The door was thrown wide open and a yelp sounded sudden;y from inside.

“ Woah! You and I both know that I love when you get all bad - cop on me, but if you’re gonna barge in, at least use the special knock.” Garcia urged, swatting at Derek. He snorted and rested his hand on her desk, peering down at her.

“ Baby girl, I’m gonna need you to run some check on any Engineers, Professors, or other high - intelligence positions in the area; I’m thinking older men, 45 - 60 even, recently passed over for a promotion or laid off.”

Penelope nodded, her fingers dashing round the keyboard and within the minute she was whistling through her teeth, reading off the results she collected, “ We’ve got one hit, Dr. James Douglass was fired from his job at a lab two weeks ago when his trainee of two years took over the position. ” The image that popped onto the screens was startling, like a splash of cold water waking him up. He’d seen that man before, at the book signing. He’d been lingering by the door, watching the two of them. Then he’d slipped away without a trace.

Spencer shook his head, ready to pipe up for a location.Then, Garcia leaned over quickly and typed something incomprehensibly fast into the keys and the image of a young girl who looked so much like Y/N blinked up at them. “ That’s Dr. Evil’s daughter right there, and it looks like she’s all set to marry her father’s student about two months from now.”

His breath caught, so they were surrogates for the two people in his life who had moved past him. That kind of pain didn’t dissolve, it grew and bubbled into rage. He wouldn’t be kind, and the thought Y/N enduring that penetrated his thoughts.“ Can you get an address?”

“ 5590 Maple Street.”

TO BE CONTINUED 

#spencer reid #spencer #reid #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds fic #criminal minds blurb #Because of Me

[artificialqueens]

Trial of the Magician (Pearlax/Trixya), Chapter 1 - Grey Darling

a/n: Hey guys! Yes, I am starting yet another new fic, but this is the last one for a while, I promise. Anyway, this is the first installment of a fantasy au I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and I know it’s a little different than the usual fare you get with this fandom, but I hope you all enjoy nevertheless!

Violet had always enjoyed summer nights, hiding under the blanket of darkness, a soft warm breeze blowing through her dark hair. She’d never know that pleasure if she lived a sheltered, human life, where everything happened indoors and nobody knew the pleasure of sleeping under a canopy of stars. Yes, being a mage - well, a poor mage - meant living as a nomad, travelling from place to place and never settling in one town for more than a week. But Violet liked that life, and although she enjoyed the occasional bout of ostentation, there was no way she’d rather live.

Of course, it’d be much worse if she had to do it alone.

Her sister, Max, sat on the other side of the campfire, scratching out a design in the dirt with a stick she’d found nearby. Although they were twins, the pair couldn’t look more different - Violet was all dark and sultry, with a tiny waist accentuating her curves and plenty of skin on show through her ebony clothes. On the other hand, Max was as pale and as pure as the moon itself - grey hair, pale skin, lanky, androgynous form. Violet often admired her sister for her cool temper, which balanced out Violet’s quick one in ways that had saved them from more scrapes than she’d care to admit.

She and Max had travelled together since their parents passed seven years ago when they were both just fifteen. It had been hard at first - their parents had always been the ones to guide them through their nomadic life, teaching which terrain to avoid for setting up camp, how to barter for and sell any goods, how to live off the land. But the girls were nowhere near ready to strike out on their own, so the first few years were more difficult than anything they’d ever gone through before. Yet through hard work and determination, the magical sisters had got through life as best they could, and now they couldn’t imagine living any other way.

That night they’d set up camp in the woods, just off the dirt path that lead through it. They were far enough not to be seen by the average traveller, but not so far that they’d lose themselves trying to get back to the trail. If Violet’s map reading skills were any sort of accurate, she’d say they’d be able to make it out of the dense forest by tomorrow afternoon.

“I was thinking,” Max began, scratching away at the dirt, “we could go to Fortbridge next. It’s close by, and I hear they’re short on doctors willing to care for the poorer folk.”

“You think they’ll pay us, though?” Violet asked, cocking an arched eyebrow. They were always travelling from place to place looking for money - that was the life of the poor, nomadic mage. They weren’t rich enough to afford a proper home or protection, so they had to keep moving, getting money from wherever they could, however they could. That was just how it was - and if they weren’t constantly on the move, then the mage traders would get them.

And that was equivalent to a death sentence.

Max nodded. “It wouldn’t be much, but it’d be something. Besides, they need help… I want to give it to them.”

Violet smiled - of course she did. Max was nothing if not charitable, and her talent for the healing arts was a great aid to her generous nature. She’d been born with the gift of restoration, the powers of healing and protecting coursing through her very blood. The number of cuts and bruises she’d tended to on Violet alone were countless. Violet, on the other hand, was an illusionist, a distorter of reality. She could twist and bend the fabric of the world however she liked - although she was far from an expert in her craft.

“Of course you do,” Violet said with a grin, her eyes flashing in the firelight. “You make me look bad, Maxie.”

“I do not!” she protested, looking up from her drawing with a huff. “I think it’s impossible to make you look bad.”

Violet tossed her thick, dark hair over her shoulder. “Is that why all the handsome mercenaries flirt with you at the taverns, then?”

Max flushed and ducked her head. Both girls had a certain allure about them - Violet, seductive and mysterious, Max, sweet and delicate. They made for quite the pair. “They’re hardly flirting with me, silly. They just want to use me to get to you, that’s all.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Violet chided. “You’re pretty, Maxie. Deal with it.”

A small chuckle escaped Max’s lips, but their conversation was soon interrupted by the sound of voices drifting from the trail. Exchanging a glance of concern, Violet and Max fell deathly silent. They needed to be paranoid, always on the lookout. There was every chance that any old traveller could be a mage trader in disguise, a horrid creature who kidnapped unprotected mages and sold them into slavery, separating them from their families and their freedom. To be kidnapped by mage traders was to lose oneself forever.

“It could just be a merchant?” Max suggested, her voice a soft whisper.

Violet shook her head. “We can’t be sure unless we check. Come on - if it’s traders, I can cast a cloak of invisibility over us.”

“It might be safer to stay here, Vi.”

“But we can’t afford that risk. Let’s go.”

Violet deftly hopped to her feet, her leather boots not making a sound on the dirt ground. With a small sigh, Max rose too - although with a touch less grace than Violet. As pretty as she was, Max had always been rather awkward and gangly, her immense height not helping her case. Raising a finger to her lips, Violet lead her reluctant sister through the trees, casting a cloak of silence over them to hide their movements.

Arriving at the edge of the trail, Violet and Max hid behind a thick tree trunk, peering out either side to see what they were dealing with. It was mage traders alright, made obvious by the large wagon pulled along by strong, athletic horses, their muscular frames shining in the light of the torches fixed to the wagons metal sides. One figure was visible in the dull orange light - a short, squat woman dressed in a ragged leather garb, pistols secured in holsters on either side of her belt.

“Zahara’s mercy…” Violet cursed softly under her breath. “It’s traders…”

Max tensed beside her, watery blue eyes growing wide. “Oh, goodness… Vi, cast-”

Before Max could finish, a muscular arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her away, Max crying out as a dagger was thrusted against her slender throat, its make crude but the blade sharp nonetheless. Violet’s eyes went wide, and she went to grab Max out of her captor’s grasp before she was shoved to the ground herself, coughing roughly as a booted foot was placed against her back.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you, little witch?” The voice of Violet’s attacker was slow and drawling, mocking her for her failure and throwing in a slur to add insult to injury. “Castin’ your fancy mufflin’ spells and shit.”

Max’s captor laughed, a gravelly sound that drowned out Max’s struggling whimpers. “We know the game by now, we weren’t born yesterday.”

Violet let out a gasp as her attacker removed her boot from her back, but that gasp soon turned into a cry of pain as she twisted her hand in her dark hair and pulled her up to her feet. “You a trickster, then?”

“Illusionist,” Violet growled, her whole body tensing with each foul slur they threw at her. “And it’s none of your business what I am.”

“Oh, we got a feisty one!” Max’s captor cried in delight, and Violet could just make out a wide grin spreading out in the dark. “What about you, girly? Got something to say?”

Max, always a timid one, didn’t say a thing, paralysed by fear and dread. Violet had never seen her look so terrified, and the only thing that stopped her from lashing out at their attackers was the brutal knife held against her sister’s neck. The muscular woman sneered, angling the blade a little so that it just broke the skin, and Max whimpered as a thin ribbon of blood started to trail down her pale throat.

“Let go of her,” Violet ordered through gritted teeth, her vision turning red.

“Hmmm… no, I don’t think so,” the muscular woman replied. “She’s pretty, ain’t she? What kinda witchery you got, girly?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Max croaked out her reply. “R- restor- restoration…”

The pair of traders exchanged wicked smiles, the sort of smiles that turned Violet’s blood to ice. Of the four schools of magic, restorers were easily the most sought after by mage traders - they fetched the best price on the market given how useful they were. Illusionists, on the other hand, sold for next to nothing.

Why did Max have to be so damn honest?

“Ooooh, we’re gonna make some coin with this one!” Max’s muscular captor announced with glee, a cruel, harsh cackle colouring her words. Her companion’s laugh was slower, more sadistic, characterised by the same drawl as her speaking voice. 

“Think they’re both worth it? Little miss trickster here could be a nice bonus.”

There was a beat of silence as the muscular one thought it over. “No. If the buyers know the healer hangs out with tricksters, she’ll sell for less. Ditch the other one.”

Before she could react, Violet was forcefully shoved back down onto the forest floor, coughing as the impact winded her. She cried out as her attacker grabbed her wrist and tied a slim rope around it, attaching her to a tree branch so she couldn’t do anything to stop them. Violet screamed in protest as the muscular one reached into her pocket and pulled out a cloth, forcing it over Max’s face until her eyes rolled to the back of her head, fully unconscious.

Violet struggled and pulled at the rope, doing everything in her power to free herself and go after Max. She wracked her brain for some kind of spell she could cast to stall the traders, but she’d only studied her magic to the extent of simple parlour tricks - invisibility, silencing, changing how things looked. She could hardly bend reality to stop them - no wonder illusionists sold for so little, they were bloody useless.

She could only watch as her sleeping sister was dragged down to the wagon, the short, stout woman from before attaching thick iron manacles to her wrists - a mages worst nightmare. Those manacles stifled a mage’s power, dampened their abilities to next to nothing. So long as they were painfully attached to Max’s wrists, she was powerless to help herself.

Once the manacles were attached, she was unceremoniously thrown into the back of the wagon, and the sight of a second mage in there with her was only a small relief. At least she wouldn’t suffer alone - but Violet didn’t want her to suffer at all. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she wrestled against the rope, thin and deceptively strong. It was only when she noticed a sharp rock on the ground beside her that she saw her way out.

Grabbing it with her free hand, Violet used every last reserve of strength to saw at the rope, gritting her teeth as it started to split. With a panicked gaze, she looked over at the trail and cursed as she saw the wagon receding into the distance, the cruel cackling of the traders ringing throughout the night. Devils, the lot of them.

After what felt like years, Violet finally severed the rope. Wasting no time to gather her things from their now abandoned campsite, she cast a cloak of invisibility over herself and began her mad dash down the trail, praying to every god there ever was that she could catch up in time.

***

She followed them for hours, the depth of night slowly transitioning into the dull lilacs and oranges of early morning. Violet had thought she’d lost the wagon in the woods, the trees dense and the path twisted and winding. Only once she’d reached the clearing did she finally see it, the great metal box trundling down the road, pulled by its muscular horses who were ridden by the foul traders themselves. If she was a wielder of destruction magic, she would’ve ruined them in an instant.

With her cloak of invisibility still cast over her, Violet stalked towards the wagon, keeping her footsteps light so her bootprints weren’t too obvious in the dirt. But no sooner did she get a mere few feet behind the wagon did her spell begin to falter, losing its power after being held for hours. If it faded now, the traders would see her, and what good with that do?

“Shit… shit…” Violet muttered as her ghostly figure began to break through the cloak, growing visible in the morning light.

Spotting a bush nearby, Violet ducked behind it, watching the wagon from her hiding spot. Fortunately, they’d reached a valley, meaning that the wagon would be easy to see even from a distance - she wouldn’t lose sight of it now. 

As she waited for the spell to wear off, Violet’s thoughts drifted to Max, her sweet sister caught in the jaws of the slave trade. She’d never survive it - traders treated their victims like they were nothing, unworthy of even the basics of human kindness. Max was a waif, with a delicate constitution and a preference for pacifism that was a boon in some situations, and a curse in others. Now, it was the latter. If those monsters hurt her, would she fight back? No, because it wasn’t in her nature. Maybe that made her weak, maybe that made her pitiful, but all that Violet cared about was that it made her vulnerable. 

She’d already lost her parents. She didn’t need to lose her sister too.

With the invisibility spell fully worn off, Violet needed to think of a new plan. Hopefully, it had been too dark for the traders to get a good look at her face when they first met, so there was every chance she could just wander down the trail and not get caught. It was just about the only option she had - she’d used up all her power sustaining her invisibility for so long, so casting another would be impossible until she rested. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for that.

So, throwing her hood over her head to hide her face, Violet carried on, the wagon in her sights.

***

“Hey? Hey, you awake?”

“Hmmm…”

“Can you hear me? They didn’t hurt you that badly, did you?”

The warmth in the girl’s voice was the only thing that cut through the immense chill that was sinking into Max’s bones, freezing her to the core. Her head was pounding as she opened her eyes, blinking once or twice to try and clear the haze that coated her vision. She knew she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Violet wasn’t there… Neither was the forest or the warmth of summer…

The memories of the ambush all came flooding back - the knife to her throat, Violet getting thrown around like a ragdoll, and the fear that had turned her to stone. With a start, Max bolted upright, a scream-like gasp escaping her throat, panic rising from her stomach and choking her. A soft, manacled hand rested on her shoulder, and that same warm voice drifted into her ears.

“Hey, hey! It’s alright.”

“It- it’s not… Violet… I have to get to Violet…”

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” the girl told her, a slight sadness to her now. “Even if you wanted to. Neither of us can.”

Max glanced over at her companion, a dark-skinned, plumper girl with a braided hairstyle commonly found in the north. Although she was locked up in chains, there was a smile on her face, albeit a weary one. “Oh…”

“I tried getting us out,” the girl said with a sigh. “But these stupid manacles keep getting in the way… Can’t conjure up a key when you’re all chained up, right?”

“You’re a conjurer?” Talking to the girl was grounding her, calming her down. If Max could keep her talking, she’d have more time to relax, and then she could think with more clarity. 

The girl nodded. “That’s right. I’m Jaidynn, by the way.”

“Max…”

“Good to meet you! Nice if we could’ve met differently, but that’s life, I guess.”

“You seem awfully calm about this,” Max remarked shakily, hanging her head. It was taking all the strength she had not to break down in tears - she’d been kidnapped, taken to be sold. Unless she could figure out how to escape, which would take a miracle, her life was over forever. How could Jaidynn seem so chipper?

Jaidynn shrugged. “I just been in the back of this wagon for a while, I guess. And you look really scared, so y’know, thought I’d try and make things a bit easier for you. Because things are always less scary if you got a friend by your side, right?”

“Right… Thank you.”

Max tried her best to smile, but instead, her lips twisted into a frown as her inner strength broke down, and the tears flowed as freely as they could. As she buried her head in her hands, sobs wracking her body, Jaidynn went to her side in an instant. She hugged her as best she could with the manacles in the way, in the end just letting Max lean against her shoulder and cry into it. 

It wasn’t enough to comfort her. It’d never be enough to comfort her. But at least it was something.     

#rpdr fanfiction #violet chachki #max malanaphy #ginger minj #jasmine masters #kennedy davenport #jaidynn diore fierce #violax #dungeons and drag queens #trial of the magician #fantasy #grey darling #concrit welcome #submission #lesbian au

[bluebellhairpin]

Ghost Girl and The Face-Less Boy

 Slenderman X Fem!Reader

A/N: Wow. Sonfics seem to be my thing. Ouch. The song used was ‘Such Horrible Things’ by Creature Feature. Enjoy you crazy phycos! - Nemo

Summary: You were the town’s resident Horror Child, and rather proud of it. Your parents wanted you to be normal. Your siblings just wanted you to stop trying to kill them. Your neighbours wondered if you were the child of the devil instead of humans. Long story short; One day, your parents decided to finally send you to school. There you’re met with whispers, odd looks, and a group of bullies. Oh, and the strange face-less boy that those kids were bullying before they got to you.

WARNING: Mentions of gore and murder. Please don’t go around killing people. It’s not healthy for them, and it’s not good for you if you want to get a job or probably a dog either. 

Masterlist  

When you were about four or five, you’d already been dubbed the ‘horror child’ of your town. 

You’d pour glue in peoples hair, you stood at the end of hallways with a knife in hand, you’d trick your neighbour into running into the woods (three times this happened when it took the adults an excess of four hours to find her again), one time you even tried to set you house on fire (you hated the colour scheme anyway).

When you turned seven or eight, you had doubled your reputation.

You had pushed your younger sister down a well, and set your brother on fire. Your mother, being ever hopeful, bought you a drawing pad to try to get you to act more lady-like by learning how to sketch; you instead used the pad to draw up your schemes and to write up all your plans (Your mother saw it, and she told her friends that she couldn’t sleep for a solid week).

Once you reached the age of twelve, your parents decided to send you to a proper school.

They’d previously had you home-schooled in fear that your all-round horribleness would rub off on others - or get worse. But now they must’ve decided that it couldn’t get much worse than what it already was, so by that point in time, they’d basically given up trying to turn you into a ‘normal’ human; the decided to leave you as the devil spawn you seemed to be. 

You slightly dreaded going to school, even though you hardly felt a thing, at this point in time you were worried that no one would fear you as much as you wished them to.

When you arrived at the front gate, the old rusted thing swinging slightly on its hinges, it seemed a small if the whole school went dead silent. Your darkened (e/c) eyes narrowed as you tightened your grip on the straps of your book bag; the large town clock could be heard chiming from across the road, and your fellow students all held their beady gazes on you.

You wandered slowly straight from the gate towards the wooden doors of the school, never once moving your gaze from your intended location, effectively avoiding the hushed whispers and the strange looks from your new peers. But a yell from your right made you move your eyes lazily towards the commotion; the children in your way moved so you could see what was happening.

A group of four or five tall kids - maybe about fifteen years old - were pushing around another kid. But this in itself didn’t gain your attention; it was that the person that were bullying wasn’t really a person.

He (at least you guessed it was a boy since ‘it’ wore the usual clothes of a boy in the year 1906) had no facial features - no eyes, mouth or nose - he also had no hair, was as lanky, pale, and skinny as could humanly be possible.

You guessed he was a bit scary-looking to the other kids, and for that he seemed to be getting teased for it.

“Hey.” You said, not having to raise your voice since most of the school had gone silent just by seeing you. “What is this?” You asked, the group, now ignoring the boy and started paying attention to you, had also gone silent and most of them looked between you and the tallest of the group.

“What does it matter to you? Ghost girl.” The tall boy replied, stalking over to you, seeming to square you up as he leaned down to your height; an eruption of murmurs came from the large gathering of kids that had shown up to watch the bully try and pick a fight with the resident ‘Girl of Horrors’. 

“Don’t call me that.” You muttered, closing your eyes and taking in a deep breath.

“Don’t call you what? Ghost girl?” The tall boy laughed, shoving you in your shoulder. “What’re you gonna do about it?” He shoved you again. You did nothing. “Call on your ancestors?” He pushed you over, you landed on your knees and scraped your palms in the process. “Set me on fire?” He hissed and kicked your leg. You glared up at him, a skill you’d learnt and learnt well over the past years, many quivered under your stare, but this boy seemed to not care. 

The face-less boy had now stood up straight so now you could see he was actually rather tall, and he had his head tilted in your direction; seemingly interested in what you were going to do.

“I’ll do nothing of the sort.” You started, standing and brushing off the white fabric of your dress, wiping a couple lines of crimson blood into the once-pure material. “In fact, I think you don’t deserve to be set on fire.” You said as a matter-of-factuality, staring into his eyes with noting but an odd look of wonder. “I could cut you open from the top of your throat to your navel instead. Take a peek at your insides.” You said softly, the boy looked at you in slight horror, but soon sneered at you.

“You’re nothing but a little girl! What could you possibly-”

“Or I could try impaling you from whatever side I can poke a stick into.” You cut him off, making sure to keep your voice soft and dull.  

The next thing you knew, a fist was flying at your face and your vision blurred to black as screams faded from your hearing. 

You woke, inhaling a deep breath, the smell of steriliser hitting your nose making you crinkle your eyebrows together. You opened your eyes and saw that you seemed to be in the school’s infirmary. 

You reached your hand up to your head, feeling a bandage right where the pain hurt most. You moved to sit up, two gangly hands grabbing a hold of your arm and back to help you. You looked over at your helper, seeing no other than the face-less boy from before.

“Who are you?” You asked, glancing up where his eyes would - should be.

“A ‘Thank You’ would be nice.” A disembodied voice echoed through your brain-hole, leaving you a little nauseous and with a minor headache.

“Yeah, but what for?” You said, peering up at him (also where you guessed the voice came from) and rolled your eyes.

“Look out the window.” The voice spoke again as he helped you stand to wander over to the barred-up window across the room. “I did not know I could do that before. When Jim hit you, it must of triggered something inside me.” The voice continued as you looked out the window to the yard below. The place was covered in sticky-looking black liquid, it looked like a tornado came around and blew the entire yard upside-down, there was even a couple patches of red here and there; blood, no doubt. “I’m sorry. I should not of gotten so... Upset.” 

“Did you kill anyone?” You asked, gently pushing away the thin fingers of the boy next to you.

“Um, no. I did not mean to do it, so of course not.” He replied, now fidgeting with his hands as he moved to stand in your line of sight. “Thank you. For helping me. No one has done that before.” He told you once you moved you gaze over to him.

“You’re weird-looking. And you talk funny. And you almost killed, what, five - six people just then.” You spoke slowly, watching the boy as he seemed to deflate with each word; surely worried that he’d lost his chance at gaining a friend. “What’s your name?” You finished, tilting your head at him as he perked up at your words.

“My-my name? I-It is Subject Tango Whisky Delta.” He said, stuttering in shock that you weren’t really worried about him. You smiled lightly, he was making you feel something you didn’t think you knew you could feel.

“Okay. Strange name. But okay.”

“However, My brothers call me Slender.” He quickly added once he felt you were finished speaking. 

“Well, I think this should come off, and then, how about we go for some pizza? Or candy?” You asked and began to take off your head bandage.

“Public places and I do not really mix.” Slender said, his ‘voice’ sounding a little softer as if he didn’t want to disappoint you. 

“That’s okay. I don’t really know anywhere that sells pizza anyway.” You stated, placing the bandage down on the bed. “We can just go back to my place and make some Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches.” You said, offering an alternative to the previous suggestion. “My name’s (y/n), by the way.” You said, realisation that you hadn’t introduced yourself yet.

“(y/n).” He tried, testing how your name sounded. “(y/n), can I - Could I call you my friend?” He asked. You simply nodded, not really knowing how to react to the question since you couldn’t really say you’d ever had a friend before. You grabbed your book bag - of which was placed neatly at the end of the bed - and started wandering towards the exit.

“You coming Slender?” You asked, turning and seeing him slightly unsure of whether to follow you. You guessed he got bullied a lot, which would make anyone scared to go out in public. You held out your hand to him, hoping that he’d take it so you could go and start making your sandwiches. “It’s okay. You wont be alone anymore.” You said softly and smiled gently at him. 

“Thank you (y/n).” He said once his long fingers curled around your own. 

You both started down the school hallway, turning heads again, but neither of you cared. 

You were the Ghost Girl and the Face-Less Boy.

Nothing could stop you now.

#slenderman #the slenderman #slenderman x reader #slenderman imagine #the slenderman x reader #the slenderman imagine #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta imagines

[lovelyfictional-imagines]

hey nerd. (The Eleventh Doctor x Reader)

In a rut, will get to requests soon, sorry for it taking so long. It’s been hectic, I’m trying to get back into where I was when I started, once I’m cranking them out again I’ll have the full motivation to do these wonderful requests justice. “Hey nerd.” is kind of the reader’s catchphrase, will do a fic on the origins of it. (B/T) means body type.

I’ve gotten new glasses, they remind me of Eleven’s (or Amy’s, I should say), and this was born because of it. I’m not great at this, but I’m working on it. Hope you enjoy!

Until next fic,

- Ashley

Word Count: 1583

           “G’morning.”

           Slurred words in a deeper than normal voice wafted through the bedroom like wind through chimes during (what would’ve been) the wee hours of the morning. (Y/N) shifted a bit in her position, one arm stretched beneath her pillow and the other reaching for his, fingers intertwined as always. Or, at least they would’ve been.

           If he were there.

           Inwardly she groaned, pressing her face into the fabric and huffing loudly in muffled protest to no one in particular. The TARDIS whirred, mechanical sounds like laughter at the human’s reaction.

           “We could get rid of him, eh, Sexy? Just us girls, traveling from time to time, place to place. We don’t really need him, do we?”

           Again, the TARDIS laughed before (Y/N) pulled her head from the feathery depths. Clamoring out of bed quite gracelessly, she sunk to the floor in front of the nightstand. A (S/C) hand covered her face as the other slid up the smooth wood, feeling her way to the top. Deft fingers slithered through scattered books, pencils, and other miscellaneous clutter before closing around a slender piece of plastic. The eyewear was pulled from its perch and into her lap. Using the sleeve of her flannel top, she scrubbed the glass until it was no longer foggy. At last she slid them onto her face.

           Everything shifted into focus, and she figured it was time to find her lanky partner. As she stood, (Y/N) raked her fingers through the mop of (H/C) waves atop her head, ruffling her hair and tying it up lazily. Her legs moved earlier than expected, propelling her before she could start forming a plan for her search. Before she knew it, she was out in the hall, dark room and inviting bed shut off behind her. Stretching her (B/T) arms above her head, standing on her tip toes and elongating her spine until a chorus of various ‘pops’ and ‘cracks’ were heard, and she was satiated enough to begin.

           The first stop was the control room, though of course she wouldn’t find him there. Too predictable, too easy for her Doctor. Basking in the warm light emitted from the strange circles on the walls, she pulled her flannel tighter around her. Normally he’d be here, twisting knobs and pressing buttons and acting like he knew what he was doing. They both knew better, though, and were surprised when he actually did.

           Upon not finding him in the console room, she walked across the room, allowing her fingers to dance over levers and buttons as she passed. Into another part of the vast ship, enjoying the serene silence that came when the Doctor wasn’t around. Though it didn’t take long for serene to evolve into eerie. The halls were dark, and the mechanical hum of the TARDIS and her own breathing were the only sounds she could hear.

           The kitchen was her next stop, simply because that was the door she was brought to. Hushed clanging and mutters were barely audible behind the door, and she smiled. Relief flooded through her, knowing the Doctor was as safe as he could be for the moment, making a mess as always. “Thanks, sexy.” Barely a whisper, expressing gratitude in the way her hand slid over the knob and turned it slowly.

           It was near impossible to stifle her laughter, but somehow (Y/N) managed. In front of her was a gangly man in a dress shirt and bow tie, round glasses tucked tightly against his face, and his floppy hair was messily tucked back as far as it could go, causing it to curl upwards in some places. Flour was everywhere, coating the countertops, various bottles, and his arms and clothes. Thin eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his teeth chewed his lip, all senses focused on a measuring cup he was pouring oil into. With a satisfied smile he tossed the oil into a large bowl which seemed to be where all the flour had gone, along with some eggs and other indistinguishable ingredients. His graceful hands took some measuring spoons and began to measure out a miniscule amount of vanilla extract.

           (Y/N) cleared her throat, causing him to drop the spoons with a loud yelp. They sank into the batter, and the Doctor immediately dove his fingers in after them, fishing them out and holding them behind his back with a sheepish smile as he turned to face her. Faint crimson splotches painted themselves onto his sculpted cheeks, and she felt her own cheeks begin to heat at the curious expression only slightly concealed in his green eyes. As she grew near him, the weight of his gaze made itself apparent as she glimpsed into the bowl.

           “Hey nerd. What’re you up to?”

           Leaning against the cabinet, he looked much cooler than he really was, ruffling his hair and straightening his tie. The dirty spoons were discarded behind him, plopping onto the counter with an odd ‘squish’. He sighed loudly, a tiny, affectionate smile playing on his face. It was all strange, watching him play coy with her for once. Suddenly she found herself unable to form any sensible thought, eyes trained on his mouth and that knowing gleam in his eye.

           “Well I was making you breakfast, as a surprise, but you’ve ruined the surprise part. Now it’ll just be breakfast.” As she slid next to him he turned, bumping her waist with his hip.

           She was back now, grounded as his body brushed hers.

           “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

           “Breakfast is never a bad thing.”

           Looking down at his progress, she smiled up at him.

           “Need some help?”

           -

           Soon they were sitting at the table together, stacks of waffles in front of them, accompanied by steaming mugs of coffee and tea, jugs of syrup, and plates of fruit. The Doctor scooted his chair next to hers noisily, as part of their routine, until his seat was nearly on top of hers and their elbows brushed every time they moved their arms. (Y/N) giggled at his gleeful expression, watching the sugary substance pour slowly from the container and cover his breakfast. So much for trying to make it healthier.

           They tucked into their meal, both parties sighing in content with the first bite. It was perfect, warm, buttery, unwaveringly sweet, and delicious. Every other bite she would glance at the Doctor, almost choking on her chuckles and waffles when she saw he had already finished and was going in for more. A large hand was on her back, patting in attempt to help somehow, but he was laughing too.

           His entire face broke into that easy smile, emotions almost completely bare in front of her. That wonderfully innocent expression that endeared her to no end, left her breathless, and caused her heart to speed up and slow down simultaneously. God, this man was addictive.

           (Y/N) hadn’t realized she’d been staring until his face was right in front of hers. Dangerously close, noses barely brushing. His presence in front of her was commanding, suddenly, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. Short breaths fell through her parted lips in anticipation, silently pleading with him to close the distance between them. They shared too few of them, in her opinion.

           Instead, he had that dumb smile on his face, completely oblivious to the effect he had on her. Pushing his forehead against hers, he laughed. Nodding slightly toward her face, his fingers came up to adjust his glasses, tapping hers as well.

           “Hey nerd. We match!”

           (Y/N) began cracking up, leaning into him as she laughed harder than she had in weeks. The Doctor wrapped his arms around her, joining in the merriment. Everything else was forgotten about for the time being; they were too distracted with being completely enamored with one another. As the waffles cooled, syrup soaking into them and making them soggy, they watched each other. (Y/N) studied the golden flecks in his eyes, swimming in a sea of emerald, as if they would tell her the secrets of the universe. The Doctor studied her with unbridled intensity, but she refused to shy away.

           His hands found hers, fingertips sliding and studying, as if charting a map of her hands. At last he leaned his head down, bumping her nose with his to subtly tell her to move. A breathy giggle escaped her lips, brushing his and making him chuckle. (Y/N) closed her eyes, but she still felt the weight of his stare as his mouth met hers. Dizzying, dazzling, mind-blowing movements that stole the breath from her lungs every time.

           Every time he kissed her, she felt him give more and more to her. Rigid and restrained movements had eased into these smooth encounters, times where he would throw some of his control to the wind and fall into her. Awkward demeanor tossed aside, and he seemed to be someone else and himself at the same time. Each exchange was longer than the last, and (Y/N) reveled in the knowledge that he was becoming as hooked on her intimacy as she was with him.

           In the light of the kitchen, the Doctor and his companion fell into something deeper than love all over again. As her hands tickled the back of his neck, his held her strongly to him. Breaking away for a chance to breathe, she grinned against his mouth.

           “Hey nerd.” She whispered.

           “Hi.” He replied, tender and soft.

           “You’re awfully good at that.”

#the eleventh doctor x reader #the doctor x reader #doctor who #whovian #doctor who fanfiction #fandom imagine #fanfiction #romantic #reader insert #matt smith #doctor who imagine #imagine #the 11th doctor x reader #11th doctor #11th doctor x reader

[thepokyone]

Thirty-Two Years

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader (ft. Bucky, Steve, and Tony)

Content/Warnings: pure fluff. that’s it

Words: 1549

A/N: So this is my entry for @spideywhiteys writing challenge - I hope you like it! It’s super cute, I enjoyed writing it, and tropes are always fun ^-^

The day of your 30th birthday dawned clear and bright, rays of sunlight trickling in from between the gaps in your blinds and chasing out the darkness that clung to the corners of your room. It was that light, rather than your alarm, that roused you. You had woke half an hour early, but you were too excited to doze off again. Today, after fifteen years, you would be seeing Sam Wilson again. He was your best friend from diapers until you moved away at fifteen. You had kept in touch through phone calls and texts, but it wasn’t quite the same. Now that you had moved back East to D.C., the two of you could reconnect.

Praying that you weren’t about to be disappointed, you prepared for the day. It was like falling in to old habits, spending your birthday together. The two of you had been born the same day, in the same hospital, a room apart. It was how your mothers had met, a friendship springing between the two women that, like yours and Sam’s, had managed to stand the test of time. Sam was older by ten minutes (which he never let you forget), but it was only after the two of you had turned thirteen that he had shot upwards, beating your height.

The time you had to prepare seemed to both race and ooze by, and you had only just finished by the time your doorbell rang. Swallowing, and reminding yourself that it’s just Sam rather than a stranger you had never met, you turned the knob and pulled open the door.

If it weren’t for the familiar smile, which still held traces of the boy you knew as a fifteen-year-old, you would have sworn on your life that the man standing in front of you was not Sam Wilson. For starters, he was hot - a far cry from the lanky, gangly teenager you had known. For another, he seemed to have changed from an awkward, stammering boy to a confident and collected man - a theory that his next words all but solidified.

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” Sam said, the easy smile still on his face. You returned it, hoping that he couldn’t hear the way your heart raced, drumming loudly against your ribcage.

“Sam,” You said in response, allowing yourself a moment to properly take him in. He seemed to be doing the same. “Happy birthday.”

“What, I’m not beautiful too?” He asked with a laugh, following you inside. The apartment was still stacked with boxes, though things were slowly starting to come together.

“Well, we both know who the hot one is between the two of us,” You fired back with a smirk. Somehow, despite his cool demeanor and newfound attractiveness (to you, anyway), it was just as easy to be with him now as it was fifteen years ago. It was, after all, still Sam.

“Aw, thanks,” Sam said, smirking.

“I was talking about me, idiot,” You retorted with a grin.

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s not get caught up in the details. I say we get this day started, huh?”

“Let’s do it,” You agreed.

As you weren’t entirely familiar with D.C., Sam had been the one to make birthday plans, the two of you visiting the various sites to see and just being your old selves. It may have been fifteen years, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. The day flew by, the sun low in the sky by the time Sam took you to the last stop, the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. Oranges and reds danced on the surface of the water, reflecting the colorful sky above as the two of you walked slowly down the path beside it.

“So we’re thirty years old today,” Sam mulled thoughtfully, hands in his pockets.

“Yeah. Doesn’t seem possible, does it?”

“Nah, it doesn’t. This doesn’t make us old yet, does it?”

“I don’t think so,” You said with a shrug. “Now when we reach fifty…”

Sam let out a laugh. “Fifty isn’t that old.”

“It’s old enough to start getting AARP letters!” You retorted.

“Fair point,” He agreed. “You know, I’m surprised you forgot.”

“Forgot?” You repeated, furrowing your brows. What had you forgotten?

“Our pact? You know, the one we made when we were six years old? My mom mentioned it to me yesterday. I had forgotten too, if I’m honest.”

The memory came rushing back. “You mean our marriage pact?”

“Yeah! You know, the one where if we’re at the ripe old age of thirty and still single, we’d marry each other,” Sam said with a shrug. “And I’m pretty sure we’re both still single, unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

You laughed. “I’m not marrying you, Sam. Not today anyway.”

“I didn’t expect you to. I’d settle for a date, though - if you’re interested,” He offered, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips.

You smiled, nodding. “I think I can do that.”

Two Years Later

The wedding was set for the same day the two of you had made your marriage pact at six years old. The September day was pleasantly warm and bright, scarcely a cloud in the sky. Steve Rogers - Captain America himself - was best man, but it wasn’t him you were focused on; it was Sam, who was looking as handsome as ever in the tuxedo Tony Stark had insisted on providing, that captured your full attention.

Bucky Barnes was the one walking you down the aisle - you had clicked instantly with the ex-HYDRA agent, and he had been honored when you had asked him to do so. “You’ll knock him dead, doll,” Bucky had assured you before the ceremony; and now, walking towards your best friend of thirty years, you had no doubts that you had. Sam was gazing at you as if you were the most breathtaking thing in the world, taking your hand once you finally reached him.

The ceremony seemed to go by in a blur. It was just you and Sam; everyone else seemed to have faded away. Both of you had agreed to prepare vows. It was the part that seemed to come the quickest, and it was what you were most nervous about. But Sam smiled at you as Tony (who had insisted on officiating the wedding, to your amusement) called for him to give his vows, and your nerves settled.

Sam pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, one that you’d recognize anywhere, and began to speak. “Twenty-six years ago to the day, we wrote a contract after your mom told us about her wedding. We promised that, at thirty years old, if both of us were single, we’d marry each other. I wasn’t sure what to put in my vows, because there was so much I wanted to say to the woman that stole my heart, but I managed to find my copy of our contract and realized it said everything I had always felt for you.

“I, Samuel Thomas Wilson, promise to love you, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, forever. I promise to protect you from the bullies on the playground and the monster under the bed, because you’re my best friend in the world. I promise to share my snack during snack time and let you play with my favorite toy even when I want to, so that we don’t fight.

“I love you, Y/N, and those words are still as true as they were the day I wrote them. You are my best friend and the love of my life, and I could not imagine a better person to spend my life with.”

Later, you would swear up and down that you didn’t cry, but that was a lie. To be fair, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, and it took several moments before you were able to compose yourself and read your own.

“I think we truly are meant to be together, Sam,” You said with a watery laugh, “because I brought my copy of the contract as my vows.”

There was laughter from the crowd that died as you began to speak. “I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, promise to love you, Samuel Thomas Wilson, forever. I promise to give you the best spot at tea parties and to pretend to be Princess Leia when we’re playing Star Wars so that you can be Han Solo. I promise to share my lunch money with you, and to tell you all my secrets, because you always seem to understand and never tell anyone.

“Sam, I’ve loved you since I was six years old, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, and the love of my life. I can’t wait to spend the best years of my life with you, because thirty-two years hasn’t been enough - and thirty-two more won’t be, either.”

Tony had to clear his throat slightly before speaking. “It is my pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

And without further ado, Sam pulled you into a searing kiss - the culmination of your own personal love story, thirty-two years in the making.

Tag List: @the-crime-fighting-spider @micachu1331 @esoltis280 @ilvermornyqueen @teaand-cookies @adri200189 @thisismysecrethappyplace @alittlebitofmagic @bluebird214 @lovely-geek @fleurs-en-ruines @loki-god-of-my-life @awesomehaylzus @ldyhawkeye @marvel-biatch @caswinchester2000 @ilovetvshowsblog

#Spideywhiteyswritingchallenge #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x you #falcon x reader #falcon imagine #sam wilson #falcon #marvel #reader #reader insert #x reader

[clocksfanfiction]

Friday.

Pairing: USUK/Libertea Rating: SFW Wordcount: 2,328 In progress/Complete Misc: actor au, reunion fic, kind of, Alfred’s an actor and Arthur isn’t ok Summary: It’s been a long time since high school, a long time since Alfred’s best friend moved back to England and his own career skyrocketed with the help of a few movie deals. The last thing he expected was to see that best friend turn up in a coffee shop in LA again. A/N: I originally got this idea from @usuknetwork‘s weekly jam like two weeks ago when the song was Hey Leonardo but I have 0 ability to make things on time

“Alfred?”

The voice was surprised, incredulous even, and despite the low profile he was attempting to keep, Alfred couldn’t help turning around from placing his coffee order to look at the man who had spoken up. And he was glad he did, for his memory hadn’t deceived him in thinking that the accented voice was all too familiar.

“Arthur.” He pulled his sunglasses down a little, just as surprised but soon grinning at the shorter man, who couldn’t help a small smile in reply. “God, it’s been…”

“Eight years.” Arthur filled in for him.

“And you still recognise me from the back.” Alfred laughed, grin easy and teasing as it hadn’t been for a long time. Arthur snorted, and Alfred couldn’t help likening his rolled eyes and unimpressed expression to the countless times he’d done the exact same thing in high school. Though he looked quite different now.

“I didn’t expect you to still wear that stupid jacket. At least it fits you better now.”

Alfred glanced down at himself; the beaten up bomber jacket he’d bought sophomore year that used to drape off his gangly form now neatly hugging his shoulders. He looked up and grinned, almost laughing before he remembered he’d left the barista waiting.

He quickly mumbled an apology as he turned back to the girl; though the place wasn’t busy and she didn’t seem to mind two friends catching up. That or Arthur calling his name had caused her to finally recognise him and Alfred might have soon had to deal with scribbling his autograph on a napkin.

“Hey, uh, what are you having?” He looked to Arthur, who blinked for a moment.

“What? Oh, no, don’t,”

“I insist, come on, just order something I’ll get it.”

Arthur hesitated a moment longer, but sighed and stepped up to Alfred’s side to place his own order. The girl behind the counter smiled and nodded, and a moment or so later they were waiting idly for their drinks to be prepared.

“I’d ask how you are but I get the impression things are going pretty well.” Arthur smiled, something small and easy, and again Alfred was brought back to quiet conversations in classrooms and after school.

He laughed, running a hand through his hair and glancing about. The cafe wasn’t particularly full, but no one was really looking in their direction. By that point other patrons had definitely noticed him, but he was glad for once that no one had really gotten up to bother him.

“You’ve seen the movies, huh?” Somehow, despite the fact that he was well aware that his latest jobs had been million dollar blockbusters, the idea that the scrawny English kid who used to laugh at his clumsy antics in high school had seen them both surprised and excited him.

Again, Arthur looked unimpressed, and again, Alfred only found himself somehow at ease with the expression.

“Alfred I think I saw your face at least three times on billboards or the side of a bus today. Yes, I’ve seen the films.”

Alfred laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. If he were more self aware he might’ve known how much he looked like the seventeen year old kid Arthur used to know in that moment, but Arthur was just looking at him with that quietly bemused expression and quirked eyebrow. He looked a lot different. Alfred looked a lot different too; he’d been tall and lanky in highschool, it took a while for puberty to catch up with him and working out in drama school had done a lot for his appearance. But Arthur, Arthur was somehow much the same and so different. He had a different haircut, the lines of his face were sharper, his shoulders broader, but he still had the same wry expressions and dry tone of voice.

He was still really cute, in Alfred’s opinion, but he’d never told Arthur that in high school.

“Right, yeah.” He laughed a little, shrugging. “But you know, they might not have been your thing.”

Arthur snorted, looking like he wanted to shake his head at Alfred.

“We went to see superhero films when we were in school, do you think I’d really avoid them now that the same guy who got excited when Captain America came on screen is now playing one of those superheroes?”

Alfred’s grin turned sheepish again. He couldn’t explain his embarrassment at Arthur having seen the things. He was certain dozens of others from school had seen them too, but that didn’t make his stomach flip in the same way as thinking of Arthur in the movie theatre did.

“Well I did have to drag you to those movies, if you don’t remember.”

Arthur laughed, properly, not just a snort. It was only a quiet chuckle, a nod of his head with a conceding ‘yeah’, but it sounded just the same as when they were younger. No, not quite the same, Alfred noticed. It was deeper, richer. But it still made him smile.

Their drinks arrived on the counter, and it hit Alfred rather suddenly that their little meeting might have ended just like that, Arthur disappearing out of the door never to be seen again like the end of their last summer.

“Hey, uh,” He grabbed his coffee, glancing at his watch and then Arthur again. “I have a meeting thing to go to in like half an hour but I’ve got time, do you have somewhere to be or…?” He let his question trail off, watching Arthur pick up his own cup.

“No I don’t actually.”

“Oh, cool.” Alfred nodded, trying not to smile too wide, but Arthur looked rather content to be catching up too so he didn’t mind too much.

He didn’t need to ask for Arthur to follow him to a table; a little booth in the corner of the cafe. The cafe was small, so it was impossible to hide, but it felt like the corner seat provided them a little shelter from prying eyes.

“So what are you doing back in LA? I thought you moved back to England.” Alfred took the lid off his coffee, letting it cool a little.

“I did.” Arthur nodded, small smile still in place at the corner of his lip. “But I sort of missed it here. I did my degree and my teacher training and taught for a few years in a couple of different schools,”

“You’re a teacher then?” Arthur had wanted to be a teacher, Alfred remembered. Or at least, he was interested in teaching.

“Oh, yes, I should’ve started with that.” A smile pulled at the corner of Arthur’s mouth as he took a breath. “But, uh, yes, I did all of that in England and I just sort of missed being in America. I wasn’t really thinking seriously about it all but I saw a job opening and I just,” He shrugged, laughing a little. “It was a bit stupid of me to be so reckless. But it turned out. I’ve been here for a year now, I started last September.”

Alfred nodded, curious and eager to hear every bit of it.

“So you’ve been back in LA for a whole year and you never bothered to try and call me?” He took a sip of his coffee, smirking at Arthur over the rim of his cup as the man spluttered.

“It had been seven years, Alfred!” Arthur stared at him. “Besides, you’re mister blockbuster movie star now, why on earth would you want to hear from the English guy you were friends with for two years?”

“Hey, best friends.” Alfred corrected sternly, but they were both smiling and staring at one another and they couldn’t help laughing again.

“Alright, best friends.” Arthur corrected, swallowing another couple of chuckles. “But still. I don’t have your number anymore, and even if I did I’d have to think you’re either too busy or wouldn’t really want to catch up.”

Alfred’s expression turned bittersweet. He couldn’t blame Arthur for thinking as much of course; admittedly he was busy most of the time, and if the situation were reversed he might well have thought the same thing. But still, the idea Arthur had been so close for an entire year and he’d had no idea upset him just a little.

“Makes me sad you think I wouldn’t want to see you.” He took another sip of his coffee, and Arthur shrugged. “It always bothered me that we stopped talking after high school.”

Arthur sighed, the same bittersweet expression crossing his face as he looked at his own cup.

“Well...Life happens, unfortunately. And the time difference is rather unforgiving.” He picked up his cup and Alfred hummed his agreement as Arthur took a drink of whatever it was he’d ordered.

It was quiet for a moment, just the sounds of the cafe and other conversations and their eyes meeting a few too many times. Alfred couldn’t help thinking it was nice.

“You know,” He leaned back, easy grin returning as he looked at Arthur. “I kind of had a giant crush on you in highschool.”

Arthur’s eyes went wide, a faint pinkness dusting across his cheeks and Alfred had to pick up his coffee to stop himself from laughing out of embarrassment.

“Oh.” Arthur said, eyes flickering back and forth as if he was thinking, and the blush on his face only reddened. He put his arm on the table, letting his head fall into the hand for a moment with evident embarrassment. “You should’ve said something.” He eventually said, and Alfred only shrugged.

“I wanted to. But you know, you were going to England and stuff. We were only kids.”

Arthur nodded as if he were conceding, but he peeked up at Alfred from between his fingers, and a flicker of a smile danced on his lips before he straightened up.

“Yes, well. We could’ve had a good year or so. I uhm, I had quite the crush on you too.”

Alfred blinked, his turn to stare at Arthur with wide eyes. But he wasn’t so embarrassed, not so much as he found it laughably stupid. They would have been stupid teenagers, wouldn’t they? Utterly unaware of one another’s feelings and letting everything go unsaid. It was just a crush really, it never went anywhere serious and then they lost touch after high school. But still, he had to shake his head.

“Wow. I guess I should’ve said something then.”

Arthur chuckled a little, and Alfred found himself smiling wider. Arthur didn’t look as if he agreed or disagreed, but he nodded and picked up his drink. Alfred let him take a sip, gaze lowering to the table.

It was nice, to just talk like this. Alfred couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an easy conversation with someone who wasn’t one of his co-stars, let alone in such a public place. Not that he didn’t enjoy his life, he was thankful for it all. But if ever he spoke to someone else that didn’t already know him it seemed so canned, so fake. All the smiles and gushing, it just seemed like the same generic conversation over and over again. Even the nicest fans were still preoccupied with what he’d done and who he was and not the guy just trying to talk to them. It was tiring.

But Arthur still looked at him like he was the stupid, gangly teenager who dragged him to the cinema and ate McDonalds with him at 1am.

“Hey, uh.” He leaned forward again, resting his forearms on the table and trying not to look so much of the nervous teenager he suddenly felt despite the fact he was well into his twenties. But leaning forward gave him a glance at his watch, and he cursed under his breath as he realised he was rapidly running out of time for this idle chat. He glanced up, Arthur was frowning, confused. “Sorry, I have to go in like a minute.” Arthur nodded, his expression tinged with something Alfred felt bold enough to call disappointment. “That- That isn’t what I wanted to say. God, I feel like some dumb kid.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair and letting a bubble of nervous laughter escape.

“That’s alright, I only ever knew you as a dumb kid.” Arthur cut in, wry smirk back in place. Alfred tried to glare at him, but it was cut in with laughter, and the twinkle in Arthur’s eye made it impossible to look so harsh. “What were you going to say then? Before you remembered you have places to be.”

Alfred parted his lips, closing them again to wet with the tip of his tongue. “I was just thinking if...Are you free tonight?” Arthur blinked, about to respond, but Alfred rambled on. “Or any other night. I just thought maybe you might like to get dinner?”

Arthur paused, that wry smirk softening into something else.

“...I’d like that. How’s Friday?”

“Friday is good.” Alfred smiled. Not his grin, not that bright sunny showstopping grin he turned on for the press and interviews and fans. Just a warm smile, directed only at Arthur and the soft smile he received in return.

“Well give me your phone or something, you can’t take me to dinner if you can’t talk to me.” Arthur sat up straighter, trying to seem unbothered and easy, but Alfred could see the bashfulness hiding under his expression.

He pulled out his phone, unlocking it and sliding it over for Arthur to punch the number in. He glanced at his watch as Arthur typed, realising with some pain that he really had to go. He stood as Arthur handed it back, pulling out his sunglasses again and smiling down at Arthur.

“...See you Friday then.”

“Friday.”

Arthur nodded, and Alfred tried not to smile too wide as he made his way out of the cafe.

#usuk #ukus #libertea #usuk fanfic #usuk fanfiction #oneshot #clocks writes #yeah i have no comments for this one

[illsssssuckbowers]

Ride

imagine: Y/N is Henry’s younger sister, the only person in the world he cares about. What happens when Patrick starts to care too. A/N: Pt 2 to ‘Lanky Demon’  Warnings: tbh it’s an IT fic, theres gonna be swearing, sexual themes and some sentences that may keep you up at night idk enter at your own risk x Part one x —————————————————————– Y/N drew her hand back and whacked Patrick Hockstetter so hard across the face, it makes the gangly fiend actually stumble back. She rips her arm away from his sharp grip, also stumbling back. Y/N peers down at her throbbing arm and spots a few bruises starting to form. She glared back at Patrick, and Patrick grinned darkly back at her. “Are you buttheads ready yet?” Henry complained, sticking his head out the front seat. Patrick turned his head and flipped Henry off. Y/N turned and started walking away from the car. She heard heavy quick footsteps behind her and turned around to see Patrick stalking behind her. “You lost creep?” She muttered, glaring up at him. He grinned back down at her. “You goin somewhere little girl? Last time i checked, you’re ridin with us” “I changed my mind cock breath, I’m allowed to do that” Y/N spat. Patrick let out a deep chuckle. An unnerving chuckle. One that made her skin crawl and her hands clammy. Patrick stepped forward, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair, away from her face. His long fingers tucked it behind her ear, and then let it gently fall down so his hand was resting on her shoulder. “What did you call me?” He sneered. Suddenly feeling a tug on the hair at the nape of her neck. A sharp gasp escaped Y/N’s mouth. She felt her cheeks burn when she saw the way Patricks green eyes lit up. Because they both knew. They both knew that wasn’t a cry for help. They both knew it was the complete opposite. Y/N quickly shoved Patrick, her demeanor changing quickly. He stumbled back, but only because he realised what kind of situation he was in. Henry was 20 steps away, He couldn’t show that kind of interest in Y/N. “Tell Henry I’m walking home” Y/N spat and turned to walk away but felt a harsh tug pulling her back. “Oh no you don’t, why ya gotta be such a pain in the ass?”   “I don’t want to get in the car Hockstetter, leave me alone!” Y/N sneered, attempting to stomp away once again, and once again Patrick pulls her back. “Why, you afraid something might happen?” He smirked down at her. “Afraid I might catch something from being in your vicinity yeah, I am.” “Didn’t look like you cared about catching something a few minutes ago” He snickered. “You’re a real creep you know that!” Y/N scoffed. Patrick scowled and snatched Y/N’s arm and started pulling her towards the car. Y/N struggled against him but the human broomstick was surprisingly strong. “Let me go!” Y/N whimpered, his tight grasp squeezing her to the point where she knew she’d have bruises again. Patrick was practically dragging her, and her legs were struggling to keep up. “Cry all you like, in fact keep doin it” He grinned. Y/N rolled her eyes and decided if Patrick thought he could tell her what do do, he was dead wrong. Y/N dropped to the ground causing Patrick to reel backwards, and look down at Y/N with a small frown. “What the fuck are you doing” He growled, his tongue darting out to wet his lips quickly. “I told you I wanted to walk home!” She taunted, although she was on the ground, Patrick still had a mighty grip on her. He rolled his eyes, bent over and threw her over his shoulder smirking. “What the fuck! You’re a beanpole, how the fuck are you doing this?” “If you’re impressed now, you’re gonna be dazzled later” He grinned, Parading over to Belch’s car. “About fucking time!” Henry scoffed. “Why are you carrying my sister?” “Because princess over here, didn’t wanna ride with us” “Why not?” Belch demanded, glaring at Patrick. “I dunno man, I guess she couldn’t handle being this close to me” “Fucking put me down! I’m not a child!” Y/N urged, slapping Patricks back. Patrick snickered, dropping Y/N on her ass infront of the car. She landed with a thud and a groan on the rough road. Henry shook his head at his friend and his sister. He knew if he got involved they’d both bite his head off. Y/N lifted herself off the gravely road and glared up at Patrick, who grinned down at her. She scoffed and marched to the other wise of the car, climbing over and sitting in the middle. Patrick followed her, and sat on the other side. “Where are we goin tonight?” Patrick asked, leaning forward so his head was between Henry and Belch and his hands holding onto both seats for support. “Thinkin about just hanging out at mine, you all cool with that?” Henry quizzed, peering around the car. Cheers erupted in the car from everybody except Y/N, who groaned in annoyance. Patrick turned his head to look back at her, a grin slowly etched on his face. “The fuck’s your problem” He challenged. “You, you’re my problem” Y/N snapped. “Aw, if being around me is that tough on ya, we can do somethin to fix it sweetcheeks” “Like you leaving me alone forever” Y/N snapped. Patrick snickered and pulled his hand slowly away from the drivers seat and landed on Y/N’s upper thigh, slowly brushing along. “Hmm, maybe something else” He hummed, his tongue darting out quickly. Y/N noticed he did that whenever he was about to cause trouble.  Suddenly Y/N felt a sharp pinch on her leg, She cried out from the pain shoving his hand off her leg. Not even really knowing why she let it on there in the first place. “Ow, what the fuck!” “Are ya gonna be good, or should I pinch something else sugar?” He snickered, his gaze dropping to her bust, and back at her. Y/N caught his eyes and felt a rush of heat to her face and she felt her body reacting to his grimy mouth. Patrick didn’t miss that. The Blue Trans Am hightailed it up the Bower’s driveway, their Father’s car missing which caused a rush of relief to flood through Henry and Y/N. Belch turned the ignition off, getting out of his car, Henry doing the same and pushing the car seat forward for Vic, Belch doing the same for Patrick and Y/N. Vic slid out, pushing the seat back and closing the door behind him, sending a smirk Patricks way. Because Patrick hadn’t made a move. He was staring at her, one eyebrow cocked up. Y/N huffed and leant over him to crawl out of the car, Abruptly feeling hands sliding up her bare legs, making their way to the curve of her ass. She flew back at the sudden invasion, Patrick cackling to himself. “What’s wrong princess, I was only tryna help?” “Keep your filthy hands off me Hockstetter” She snarled, attempting to shove him but Patrick caught both her hands and smirked. “I bet you wanna know just how filthy my hands can get angel” He snickered, one hand snaking around her waist, the other sliding up her thighs once again. “I’ll scream!” She threatened, wriggling away from him. “I’m counting on it sugar” his smirk growing. Y/N let out a growl, shoving him harder this time and quickly jumping over his lap to exit the car. She turned back to him, her cheeks flushed and eyes wild. “You’re sick you know that, a real creep” She taunted. Patrick snickered, following her out of the car. “That’s what they tell me, but wanna know somethin?” “No” Patrick stepped forward, looming over her. His hand playfully twirling her hair, slowly reaching towards the nape of her neck, sending goosebumps throughout her body. Then Y/N felt his whole hand grip and yank her head back. A whimper escaped from Y/N’s throat.  “You liked it”

#patrickhockstetter x reader #patrick hockstetter #patrickhockstetterimagine #henrybowers #belch huggins #vic criss #BowersGang