#he hates Halloween. all holidays actually. he keeps staying up late with me even though he doesn’t like doing that?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

creepswrites · 1 year

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MASK OF HATE | CH. 3 (Michael x Reader)

it feels so good to be writing this guy again god... i've rly pulled from my own Michael headcanons for this one so i hope you enjoy! :D

Michael Myers x trans!Reader (he/him)

Summary: "Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You dabbled the brush in the dark red eyeshadow. It would hopefully hide his scars as well. You weren't even sure how familiar people were with his actual face. You wondered if people knew what Michael Myers, the man, looked like. Or if they just saw the white, pale face of the Boogeyman when they closed their eyes.

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Halloween in Haddonfield was always a high-strung time.

Ever since the Halloween killings a few years ago, the town had since taken a hesitant approach to the holiday. Parents went out with their kids or simply stayed home with them. If phones went down or power went out, teens were told to cross the street and get help. But people would still dress up, still go looking for candy, and still sneak out to make out with their respective partners.

But Halloween had come and gone without much issue for you. Of course, Michael had been busy that night. You'd stayed up late into the night to wait up for him, watching horror movies with some candy and popcorn until you heard your back door open and heavy footfalls approaching. He didn't have many injuries - he rarely did anymore - but he was still soaked in blood.

With the holiday over, you wondered what Michael would do next. You lay in bed and stared up at your ceiling for the first few days after Halloween stewing in your worries. Would he leave? Go back to the institution? What was he going to do? Surely he couldn't keep killing, right? There'd be no people left in Haddonfield eventually.

But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he'd sit on your couch and watch television - intrigued by the nature documentaries and cartoons the most - and follow you around the house when you were home. And if you were out at work or shopping, he'd stalk you from a distance. It became the new normal.

Months passed. Fall colors began to fade to browns and whites as November came. You still left out food for Mayhem in hopes he'd come home but you were beginning to lose hope. All you could do was pray that he didn't suffer before he died or that he wasn't eaten by some other animal. Michael would watch you from the doorway, dressed in a sweater and plaid pj bottoms you'd gotten for him as you sat on the steps of your back door, hoping your kitty would come home. It must've been silly to him but he never stopped you.

He didn't kill. At least, not that you knew of. You tried to avoid the news for the most part and with your dad gone, you didn't have much inside information anymore.

The guilt hadn't really set in yet either. You missed him, of course, but he'd never been very present. The death of your mom had hit him hard and you always felt like he'd never properly forgiven you for it. How a man could resent his son for something he didn't do was ridiculous to you. You missed the idea of your dad more than who he actually was.

But you made Thanksgiving. Michael was familiar with the concept though it had been a long time since he'd participated. So, you went all out. Turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, gravy, the whole nine yards. The two of you ate together on your couch and watched Charlie Brown episodes since those had become Michael's favorite to watch. You both ate your weight in food and fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch. You'd never seen him sleep before and you were momentarily taken aback by how peaceful he looked.

It was nice.

One afternoon when you got back from work, you saw Michael masked up and standing outside your front door, holding something wrapped up in his arms. When you'd gotten closer, fearing the worst, you nearly wept with joy to see Mayhem bundled up in a towel. Cold and shaking and most certainly sick but alive. You'd gone to the vet's office a shaking, sobbing mess, just happy to have your kitty back.

Mayhem had to have surgery for his infected wounds and would be on antibiotics for awhile. But he was home and thats all that mattered to you. You'd thanked Michael profusely and brought home pumpkin pies for weeks after, even with the fall pumpkin flavors out of style. They were definitely his favorite. He liked most sweet things, honestly. You were surprised how much of a sweet tooth he had.

November browns turned to December blues as snow and frost started making appearances. The first day it snowed, you'd bundled yourself and Michael up and gone outside to see the falling snow. He wore the mask much less now, leaving the thing on the kitchen table more often than not, so you got to put a cute wool hat on him and drag him outside with your mitten-clad hand clasping his. "Come see, come see!"

Michael had looked up when he noticed the snowflakes falling. Just a light flurry. He watched as you stuck your tongue out and caught snowflakes on your tongue and gave you a strange look. "Try," you nudged him gently. "It's fun, I promise."

He'd done it but only to make you happy.

And still, he hadn't killed yet. You wondered if it was just a Halloween thing. If he was a normal person throughout the rest of the year. Obviously you'd never pushed about what happened with his sister - you liked living - but you wondered if the killings were a result of the trauma. Trauma that the great Dr. Loomis neglected to acknowledge. Because it was far easier to pretend Michael didn't feel anything. That he held no remorse for what he did. Yet the doctor didn't put together that Michael went from a totally normal boy to suddenly nonspeaking and monotonous after killing her.

It had affected him, even if the doctor nor Michael himself wanted to acknowledge that.

Life continued on. Mayhem made a full recovery and spent his days lounging in the winter sun. You would cut Michael's hair to keep it from growing out of control and he helped you shovel snow from the driveway. You noticed that he liked working with his hands and seemed to enjoy drawing on loose paper around the house, so you got him paints and canvases and cleaned out your dad's old room to let him have an art studio. The two of you lay down old newspapers and he'd disappear for hours up there to paint.

Michael didn't show the paintings to you. Not often anyways. That wasn't really the point anyways. But there were a few times when he'd leave a dried canvas outside your bedroom door or on your bed. Your favorite so far had been a blur of pale blues and whites of a winter sky, your own profile looking up at the sky. The way Michael painted was streaky, like his hands shook when he painted. Lines were messy and colors bled together, but you recognized yourself in his art.

It was interesting, seeing yourself through someone else's eyes - much less his - translated to art. You kept the painting in your room and you'd trace your fingers along the dry paint, tracing his lines. And you wondered - fleetingly and with bright red cheeks - if you looked beautiful in his eyes.

You liked to think that you did.

It was around the middle of December as you attempted to get ready for a holiday party. Attempted being the key word. "Michael," you sighed, adjusting your elf hat. "I told you, I'll be back later tonight. I've left dinner in the fridge and I promise I'll call when I'm coming home."

Michael glared at you. He had a habit of being a brat and you found it equally annoying as you did endearing. He'd put the mask on after he learnt you were leaving but that was pretty normal. Whenever you weren't around, he'd wear it. But he'd also wear it when he was just generally stressed out or upset. He'd become significantly more comfortable not wearing it around the house over the few months you'd been living together.

You wondered, briefly, if he ever slept. You hadn't seen him do so since Thanksgiving and it momentarily worried you.

"If you're so upset, why not just come with?" You snorted to yourself. "I can do your makeup, dress you in a cute sweater. Could be fun." You joked.

You focused on doing your own makeup: dark green eyeshadow and red lips. Makeup wasn't your preference but it suited your elf costume. A simple green tunic with red and white striped knee-high socks. The hat and boots you wore were matching greens and you'd heavily blushed your face, drawing little snowflakes in white liquid eyeliner. It was cute.

You heard heavy footsteps approach you until you felt Michael standing directly behind you. "Wait, are you-?" You spun around to stare up at him. "Are you serious?"

A blank stare. He put a hand around your neck and you noted his tense shoulders. A few months ago, this gesture would have terrified you. Now, you knew that it was just his way of expression. A knife and a violent hand was all he could use to convey things to you. So you didn't panic at all.

"I'm not making fun!" You insisted, lifting a hand to push lightly at his chest. "I just can't tell if you're actually interested in going. You know there'll be people there, right?" Silence. "People you can't kill." More silence. "I'm not kidding either. You can't kill or hurt anyone if you come with me." It had been a long time, sure, but you could never be totally sure what Michael's motives may be.

Michael just let go and took a step back. You gave him a look. It was hard to tell what went on in his head a lot of the time. You'd certainly gotten better at reading him but Michael could still be unpredictable. So, watching him turn on his heel and stalk towards the dresser made you pause.

He fished out a black t-shirt and matching black jeans - clothes you'd gotten him for when he needed to change out of that jumpsuit - and turned to face you. You blinked once. Twice. "You seriously want to go with me to a Christmas party? Dressed up? Without your mask on?"

And Michael nodded once.

That was significant. You could count on two hands the amount of times Michael nodded or shook his head at you. So for him to be this certain about it...

"Alright then, c'mere big guy." You gave him a soft smile and motioned for him to sit on the bed.

As he took the mask off - hands shaking and hesitant - you started leafing around in your vanity drawers as you heard him change. A soft, colored contact lens would help disguise the injured eye. It was a jade green, yeah, but it was better than nothing. Heterochromia was uncommon, not unheard of.

You set the small package aside and looked through makeup options. You found some red eyeshadow you could do around his eyes and on his nose, some blush, and your white liquid eyeliner for details. You collected all your goodies and turned to face Michael on the bed.

Your smile fell when you saw him dressed in the black clothes but still gripping the latex mask tightly, his knuckles whitening as he hung his head and stared into it's face. He looked almost out of place on your bed, amongst the pale blue sheets and stuffed animals.

"You don't have to go." You reassured softly. Slowly, he looked up at you. "I know this isn't something you normally do but," Michael blinked slowly as you continued rambling. "I don't want you to feel like I'm making you go with me. You can stay and I'll be back soon and I- I can bring back pie or something. Don't feel pressured."

Michael stared at you for a long time, fingernails digging into the latex of his mask. The last thing you needed was Michael snapping and killing people at the party. You'd both be in trouble for that.

But you also wondered if he was unfamiliar with being given choices. You'd never forced Michael into anything he didn't want to do and you had a feeling that wasn't typical for him.

He slowly, ever so slowly, unclenched his fingers and let the mask fall to the floor. The two of you stared at it for a long time as he blinked at it. You could tell by the clenching in his jaw that he was certainly fighting something off.

You wanted to make it easier for him.

So you sat down gently on the bed beside him and reached for his face. His flinch was the most emotion you'd ever seen from him and it made your heart clench. "It's just me," you said softly, opening the container with the contact lens inside. "'m not gonna hurt you."

Michael just glared slightly at you. You giggled softly and opened the contact lens case up. You'd have to cover up his injured eye, at the very least. "Alright, have you ever put contacts in?" You asked, looking up at him.

You saw something pass over his face quickly, barely there, before his face schooled itself once again. He shook his head once. This was going to be tricky. It took some time to get the contact in his eye. Neither of you really knew what you were doing. Michael had never put contacts in and you were scared it'd roll back to his brain. But, through your combined efforts, it now sat comfortably in his eye. Pretty blue-and-green heterochromatic eyes. Even with the scarring, he looked... normal.

"Should I even ask if you've ever worn makeup?" You asked teasingly. You knew he hadn't. Probably. But you were curious how new this all was for him. "I'll be brushing your face and around your eyes. Is that okay?"

Michael blinked slowly, which you took for a yes.

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You dabbled the brush in the dark red eyeshadow. It would hopefully hide his scars as well. You weren't even sure how familiar people were with his actual face. You wondered if people knew what Michael Myers, the man, looked like. Or if they just saw the white, pale face of the Boogeyman when they closed their eyes.

Your heart clenched a little as Michael shut his eyes, a hand reaching out to clench your hip tightly. He hated feeling vulnerable. You were only an exception to his 'no-touching-me' thing because you'd proven your loyalty. In exchange, he gave you his protection. But he still disliked giving over control and holding you was the best he could do to abate his worries.

He trusted you, despite himself. The thought made you smile to yourself as you brushed red powder around his eyes. Neither of you had planned on caring about each other so much but here you were.

You hummed to yourself as you worked - some pop song you'd heard while grocery shopping a few days ago that still haunted you - and you felt Michael's grip on you slowly relax. "So, a few of my friends will be there," you said softly, brushing around his eyes in a sort-of raccoon style. It obscured a lot of the scarring, thankfully. You took out some black eyeshadow to highlight around his eyes and make them look sunken in. It made him look just a tad intimidating, black soot that petered out to a dark red. "They might try and talk to you but I'll try and take over. If they ask, I'll tell them you're mute and they won't expect you to speak. Okay?"

Michael gave your hip a squeeze for affirmation.

"What do you want me to call you? I mean, I could just call you Michael but I'm worried it'll look suspicious." You hummed while you dusted red on his nose to resemble Rudolph. "Though I guess no one's worrying about the Boogeyman on Christmas." You teased playfully.

He opened his eyes and gave you a slow blink. It was strange, seeing him look this normal. Soft brown curls still messy from the mask, half-lidded eyes as he stared at you, and a defined jawline. Michael was objectively very pretty. He had good skin and pretty eyes, especially with the eyeshadow, and-

You cleared your throat and reached for the blush. "This might feel a bit rougher than the other brush but it's alright, I promise. Close your eyes again?" He shut his eyes again and you brushed a heavy blush on his cheeks. Before he could open his eyes again, you'd grabbed the liquid eyeliner and held under his chin as you began drawing freckles on the warm pink. Little, simplistic snowflakes around his eyes and white dots that faded out towards his nose. That way you two could match!

You smiled to yourself as you worked and it wasn't until you capped your eyeliner that you realized he'd been staring at you.

There were a few times in the time of you knowing Michael that you wondered if he could read minds. If, in order to be the scariest possible thing to a person, he had to know exactly what scared someone. Of course, you knew that was ridiculous. This wasn't a Stephen King novel. But still. It felt like he knew what you were thinking a lot of the time.

You straightened up and gave him a soft smile as you dropped your hand. It was almost hysterical to you - seeing the Haddonfield Boogeyman dressed up like Rudolph - but you restrained yourself from laughing. So you just stood quickly and went to grab some little horns off your vanity. They were simple, just a brown headband with some simple horns tangled in pretend lights, but they were undeniably cute.

Michael seemed to squint at them before looking at you. "Trust me, they'll look super cute on you." He seemed to relent himself to his fate and let you put the horns on him. Gently, you fluffed his hair so that you couldn't see the headband as easy. Stepping back, you looked him over.

Michael fucking Myers, dressed up as a reindeer. Cute little nose, horns, and all.

"I could just call you Mike," you hummed, tilting your head at him. "That'd be less suspicious." He glared at you and you smiled with a faux-innocence. "What? Don't like it?" Michael glared harder and you laughed. "Alright, alright, I guess Michael isn't that suspicious. Hopefully they won't ask for your last name." You shrugged.

Michael surveyed you silently, tilting his head the way he always did. Inspecting. But, more accurately, looking at something he found fascinating. It was how he looked at his victims sometimes. How he looked at you.

"Well Mikey," you said as you went to grab your bag of belongings, dismissing that train of thought. Technically, your bag was a purse but you didn't think of it like that. "Shall we?"

He just stared at you. He hadn't killed you for the nickname so you assumed it was fine. It wasn't like Michael would tolerate things he disliked, after all.

How Chrissy had managed to get this party together was beyond you. She was a girl you'd known in high school and had kept somewhat in touch with since you'd both graduated. She'd been a year above you and had been dating the quarterback of the football team, or something like that. Popular, well-liked, and clearly still trying to ride the high off of that despite graduating out of high school cliques.

The house was decorated to the nines in lights with little reindeers made of lights sat grazing outside. Soft snow decorated the front of the house and highlighted the pretty rainbow lights all around the exterior. They ran all along the roof and even down the porch where you and Michael stood. You'd rung the doorbell and were waiting for Chrissy to answer.

When she did, smiling widely and dressed in an inappropriate Mrs Claus outfit, she surveyed you and Michael. "And who is this handsome guy? Bitch, I thought I told you to tell me if you knew any cute guys." She teased, letting you both come in and take your coats off. There was already a good amount of people in the large suburban home, most drinking spiked apple cider and Christmas cookies.

Michael held your bicep once he was free of his coat. "Sorry Chrissy, he's, uh," you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with a cover story. You panicked when she gave you an expecting look. "He's my boyfriend." You blurted out quickly.

Well, that worked.

Chrissy pouted exaggeratedly. "Damn. Well, anyways, mingle! Have fun! We're doing the Secret Santa thing later- Oh! Did you bring your-?" You held up the red and green gift bag and Chrissy beamed, happily taking it from you. "Perfect, alright, you're free to go!"

You led the way, Michael still holding your arm, and went to the kitchen. It was strange, leading the Haddonfield Boogeyman through a Christmas party. Usually, you were able to dismiss the fact he killed people from your mind. It had gotten easier since he hadn't killed anyone in nearly two months, but you didn't play ignorant for his sake.

The kitchen was clean, white, and pristine. Chrissy's parents had a maid who cleaned everything so their house always looked more like an interior design catalogue rather than a home. You swiped a candy cane sugar cookie and gestured for Michael to grab one.

He just stared at you, eyes widened ever-so-slightly. "What?" You asked. His head tilted to the side and you felt your face heat up. "Oh, sorry... It was the best I could think to say in the moment. Are you... okay with that?"

Michael stared at you, eyes calculating. You almost began spouting apologies again before he took a cookie - frosted to look like a snowman - and bit into it, never breaking eye contact. You weren't sure if that was approval or disapproval so you both just stood there. Staring awkwardly at each other and eating sugar cookies.

When he finished his, he seemed to straighten up. Stepping forward, he gently brushed his lips to your forehead. Not a kiss - he wasn't exactly skilled in that area - but the intent was there and the message was clear. Your face lit up and you nodded when he pulled back. You could've sworn his eyes softened. "Cool. Cool, okay." You said softly.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek - leaving a faint lipstick stain - and grabbed another cookie with a glass of the cider. You passed him the cookie and motioned for him to follow you into the crowd as you suppressed a giddy smile.

The party went smoothly, all things considered. Of course, everyone you talked to wanted to meet your new boyfriend. "It's a recent development," you'd say. If anyone asked him questions, he'd bite into the cookie and you'd answer for him. He was a mechanic you'd met when he worked on your car. He liked painting and was sweet with your cat. And you'd been dating for a month and a half now.

Michael would occasionally hold your wrist as you two walked around. It felt normal. Painfully so. As if you and Michael were just two normal young adults at a Christmas party. As if you weren't harboring Haddonfield's own serial killer. It felt sweet - feeling Michael hold onto you as you led him around. You'd hold his arm sometimes when you talked, pleasantly buzzed from the cider and enjoying the warm Christmas atmosphere with your boyfriend.

Perhaps it had come too easily to you to call him that.

When Chrissy's parents came home with some of their own friends, you hadn't thought much of it. Until the sinking, chilling remembrance that Chrissy's dad - John Kallas - was a police officer. A friend of your dads. Who had been part of the force looking for Michael around Halloween time.

You clutched his arm as one of your friends talked to you, not really listening to them and instead focused on keeping Michael out of sight of Officer Kallas.

But the older folk seemed to retreat to one of the sitting rooms, barely sparing the partygoers a glance. You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

The Secret Santa went without a hitch. You sat next to Michael on the couch and curled at his side. He'd seemed surprised at the gesture and slowly put his arm around you, making you blush sweetly. You'd gotten a new book on plants and growing vegetables ("Oh, you think I should grow tomatoes?" You'd looked at Chrissy. "Well, if you insist!" She'd laughed.) and you leafed through it, skimming the words as you sat against your boyfriend's side.

When it finally came time to leave, you chatted with Chrissy in the doorway as you and Michael shrugged your coats on. As you went to step out the door, Officer Kallas was making his way to the kitchen and you saw his stumble out of the corner of his eye, watching you and Michael leave.

You took his arm tightly and walked briskly to the car, not wanting to give the officer the chance to come see if he'd really seen The Boogeyman as your date to his daughter's party.

Christmas came and went. You'd gotten Michael new paints and a sketchbook with some charcoals and the two of you ate pie and roast chicken and cookies you'd made after Michael's insistence. Apparently the ones at Chrissy's party had swayed him. At least he'd helped you make them. His frosting skills left much to be desired but he had fun painting them and adding sprinkles.

At one point, you must've gotten frosting on your cheek. Slowly, he'd reached over and brushed the offending icing from your face and he licked it off his thumb absentmindedly. As though it were a perfectly normal thing to do.

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes. Neither of you had really brought up the party - or your relationship. At one point while frosting, you'd decided to see something and stood up under the guise of getting more icing. You paused, brushing curls back from his forehead as you tilted his head back, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

He blinked up at you slowly. Like a cat did to show it trusted you.

As you made your way to the kitchen - trying and failing to stifle your smile - you felt his eyes on you all the way.

But it was New Years when things really changed.

You and Michael had the television on with the channel turned to watch the ball drop. It wasn't typically a tradition you cared about but you could tell your housemate was intrigued. He'd been upstairs painting for most of the day while you cleaned the house up a bit. It was still too snowy out to be gardening. You looked forward to spring and being able to set up your garden again.

Once the sun set, you made hot chocolate and ordered pizza. Michael preferred just plain cheese but you'd gotten yours with olives - something Michael always gave you looks for.

It was cute. He had a lot of personality once you knew where to look. And he'd clearly gotten very comfortable with you during the time you'd been living together.

The two of you had been sitting on the couch. 11:59PM. One more minute until the new year. "It's not the most exciting thing in the world," you said from your spot beside Michael, "but it's cute. It's nice to see everyone get together over something like this."

Michael had just stared at the television with a slight tilt to his head.

10...

You felt your throat tighten as a thought came to your head. Chrissy's words came back to you as you recalled her talking about her favorite New Years tradition.

9...

"Hey, Michael?" Your voice was soft. You'd barely even realized you'd spoken until you felt his eyes on you.

8...

Swallowing was a challenge for you. "There's, um, a kind of New Years tradition. That, um, means-"

7...

"-you'll have good luck for the rest of the year."

6...

"Want to do it?"

Michael just stared blankly at you. His eyes darted between your two eyes, calculating.

5...

He gave you a single nod. You quickly darted your tongue out to wet your lips.

4...

"Trust me," you said more than asked.

3...

He just stared at you as you moved your hand up slowly, touching his face with your fingertips. It felt like the sound of your heart pounding was audible, even over the sounds of the tv.

2...

Michael's eyes widened ever so slightly.

1...

You leaned forward and kissed him. The sounds of cheering could be heard but it sounded like it was underwater. All your senses were fixated on the man in front of you. He felt tense under your touch, even as you slid your hand to better cup his face.

But then you felt him lean into the kiss and you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

Michael didn't exactly have a lot of experience with kissing but he was clearly trying. You scooted closer and he put his hands on your hips, lifting you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

You sat in his lap as you kissed, parting occasionally to breath but you only felt yourself choke when Michael would stare up at you with half-lidded, glassy eyes.

He was pretty, you admitted to yourself freely before leaning back down to kiss him again. Slowly, you ran your hands through his curly hair as you kissed.

Things changed on New Years but you certainly weren't complaining.

The snow had finally begun clearing up and you could go outside again with relative ease. Rain and sleet was more preferable to snow for you, since it made walks in the forest more enjoyable.

You and Michael were dating. Or, at least, the closest he was comfortable with in regards to dating. You kissed sometimes, he'd stand at the foot of your bed when you slept, and he let you touch him more. Slow but steady progress.

He seemed to genuinely like you and trust you.

One day, you'd needed to go shopping to grab some things. "Michael?" You called out as you fastened your shoes, "I'll be back around 5:30, alright?"

Ever since the party, he'd gotten better about you leaving the house for short periods of time so long as he knew when you'd be coming back. Because if you didn't, he'd hunt for you. You didn't doubt that.

Michael appeared in the doorway of the kitchen a few feet away from you, staring at you. You shot him a smile and grabbed your bag. "See you soon!" And off you went.

Looking back on it, you wished you had stayed home.

At the grocery store, you had been examining a box of cereal when someone approached you. Chrissy. Her smile looked tight, forced. "Hey," she said sweetly. "How've you been?"

"Good," you said, looking concerned. "Are you okay-?"

"How's your boyfriend. What was his name, uh, Michael?" She looked like she'd be sick and you felt a jolt of white-hot adrenaline rush through you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed the worst. Her dad was standing at the end of the aisle dressed in his uniform with his partner beside him. And they were watching you.

"He's traveling. Went to see family." You tried to keep your voice neutral.

Chrissy pouted. "Someone die?" Her faux sympathy got worse. "Maybe his sister?"

She knew. You don't know how she found out, but she knew. You don't know why they took so long to do something about it but you felt compelled to run.

Times like this you wished you had a way to get ahold of Michael.

You tightened your grip on your bag and narrowed your eyes, hoping you could maintain your lie. "No. His dad is sick."

Chrissy clearly didn't believe you. But she didn't stop you as you put the cereal box in your cart and walked away. You could hear footsteps picking up the pace behind you and you picked up speed.

When Officer Kallas called your name, you turned on your heels and shoved the metal cart forward, driving it into his stomach. You took the opportunity to bolt out the door as you heard him call for backup on his walkie talkie.

His partner was still hot on your heels as you ran towards your car. All you had to do was get inside and you could get away. Go to a phone booth or something and call Michael. Tell him to get Mayhem and get out and you'd come get him. Something. Anything.

But you'd never get the chance. Because the officer grabbed you around your middle and lifted you. "Put me down!" You shrieked.

"You're being taken into police custody for suspicion of harboring a criminal. Come with me." He dragged you towards a police car where Officer Kallas was standing.

They overpowered you, shoving you into the backseat and slamming the door, locking you in. Tears fell down your face as you panicked. He wouldn't know they were coming. They'd catch him and then what? Would they kill him? Shoot to kill?

You felt like throwing up. All you could do was curl up in the seat and sob.

The only thought on your mind was that you hoped he'd be okay.

Dr. Samuel Loomis considered himself a brilliant man.

He'd been on Michael Myers' case since the child first arrived at Smith's Grove and he liked to think he knew Michael better than anyone. He'd studied the boy, subjected him to various medications, attempted to trigger anything out out of the man.

Years went by and there had been no response. So there had been talk of releasing Michael with parol. Dr. Loomis had done everything he could to prevent that from happening.

Then Halloween had come and Michael had escaped. And, yet again, he had escaped.

"Doctor?" Officer Kallas's voice broke the psychologist from his stupor. He'd been staring out the window of his office again, lost in thought.

"Come in." He turned, looking over his shoulder and freezing.

There you were. In handcuffs with tear tracks on your face. "We apprehended them like you asked. We'll head to their house to retrieve-"

"Don't," Loomis held up a hand. "No. We've got all we need right here." He approached you slowly, like you were something to behold. You felt gross under his stare. "Michael will come looking for them. Then we'll catch him. We can't give him any advantages."

Officer Kallas nodded and you bit your tongue to prevent any objections from spilling past your lips. You didn't want to give the doctor any more information than you had to.

The officers left you alone with him and he sat at his desk. "Tell me," he hummed, "what was being held captive by Michael like?" You looked at him, brow furrowed. He seemed to misinterpret your confusion. "I know you were held by him for quite some time. Your friend Chrissy told her father about it. You were-"

"I wasn't prisoner." You spat, almost offended.

"So you were simply afraid." The doctor clicked his pen, beginning to write something.

You glared at him. "What is this, an interrogation?"

Dr. Loomis lifted his head. "I've studied Michael for sixteen years," he said, "and I've never seen him so fascinated by another human being."

"Maybe you're just shitty at your job." You scoffed.

Were you not glaring daggers at the man, you would've missed the angry look you received back. "Perhaps." The doctor said. "But in good time, my theories will be proven." He stood from his desk, approaching the door and grabbing your arm. "Michael will come for you. And when he does, I'll finally rid the world of that potent evil."

You wish you'd stayed home.

#🔪 creeps writes #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #halloween 1978 #slasher x s/o #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #mask of hate

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angelkurenai · 3 years

Text

Wish upon - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Title: Wish upon

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You were close when Wanda’s grief took over and she inevitably started controling an entire town, including you. Being her closest friend, though, instead of simply playing along, you were given a normal life of your own, with a daughter and husband whom you knew very well but never thought you had feelings for. Months later as you try to figure out your emotions for Bucky, the man seems to be trying to find every reason to stay close to you. Including asking you to join him when he’s ready to follow Sam in his adventures.

“Is that... Is that what I think it is?” you blinked several times, head tilted as you took in the object your husband was, full of pride you could clearly tell, holding and showing off to you.

“You bet it is. Polished, glittered or bedazzled, I can never tell the difference it's equally sparkly anyway, but above all ready to deliver justice. It's finally finished. Right on time at that.” he set the small pink and sparkly shield on the kitchen counter, right next to the baby bottle you'd just filled, because he knew just as well as you did that it was honestly the only way you'd keep looking at the toy and hoped that you'd like it. Which you did, sure, but not in the way Bucky hoped. “Well, what do you say about it?”

“I say that it would certainly deliver justice, no doubt by dazzling the bad guys first and foremost. Besides-” you tore your eyes away from the toy to narrow them at your husband “Just on time for what?”

“Halloween, of course.” he shrugged casually as he slowly made to reach for a piece of the potatoes you'd cooked to have on the side for dinner, but you noticed him and slapped his hand away, earning a not-so-innocent smile in return “I mean... What else is there else to talk about, of significance, in a small town like Westview besides holidays and who the new otherworldly couples in town are. The second having little to no point when one's wife can read minds, amongst so many other things, and said one is a metal-armed 106-year-old.” he sighed, raising his metal arm which he usually kept covered when outside “Honestly, I don't know who're gonna get called out on it first. Wanda and Vision or us.”

“We're handling it great. Besides, oh well a 15 year old gap is so overrated anyway. I tell you, 106 is the new 30, don't you worry a second, dear. You don't look a day over that.” you smiled sweetly, leaning in to peck his lips as he grinned.

“Ah yes, coming from the woman who last time we fought you told me that it's time to stop mourning over my buddy Rexi the dinosaur cause they're all gone now.” he said with a raised eyebrow and you shrugged.

“I don't see what you mean, I was still right.” you brushed him off, checking once more the temperature of the milk “Besides, getting off track here? You still haven't explained to me how that lovely and sparkly shield is of any use to us in Halloween?”

“Well, not us, obviously.” he turned to, according to everyone including him, his little princess “Jean of course!” he picked one of her hands and let her tiny fingers wrap around one of his as she let a giggle when he kissed her belly “It's all you've been talking about with Wanda these days. Her boys have their suits already in mind, it wouldn't be right for Jean to not have hers. It's her first Halloween anyway, even if she can't do any proper trick or treat yet.”

“I'm well aware of that, seeing as I've been planning all of ours suits. And no-” you raised a finger when you saw him raise an interested eyebrow “No, I'm not wearing the skirt version of it. Besides, what we're talking about here is Jean and I still fail to see how a shield will be any part of our little Phoenix's suit.”

“Well, because it's Halloween and she's- Well, she's part of this and she'll- The shield is part of the suit, honey. Obviously. I don't see what confuses you so much as to-”

“And I don't see what confuses you so much that you'd make a shield for her, beautiful as it might be, even though it has no place in all of it. Especially after I made it quiet clear on what costume will be.” you pointed out, baby bottle back on the counter as you crossed your arms over your chest “Honestly, I would rather her have a sparkly version of Sam's redwing before incorporating the shield in her phoenix look.”

He let silence fill the room, save for your daughter's adorable baby noises, before he finally spoke in all seriousness “No, no you wouldn't. You hate that thing too... It was the main reason that made me ask the question, like when you realize you've met your soulmate.”

“I-” only half a pause before you nodded “Yeah, you're right. I hate it... although I can't really remember how it looks like sometimes to be honest. Huh weird.” you let out a breathless laugh, frowning nonetheless.

“Oh how I'd wish for that sort of blessing.” he huffed “Including its owner.”

“Hush you love him!” you hit his shoulder “And, well, that's still all besides the point. Because Jean is not going to have a redwing or shield to her phoenix look in any sort of way. Maybe next Halloween if you wanna choose the costume, fine by me. But this year I am following through with my plans and not changing my mind.”

“Plans of what? Her being a phoenix bird? I get it, it's all magical and what not but-”

“Not just any phoenix bird, geez weez, do you not even listen when I speak, Mr Barnes?” you shook your head with a roll of your eyes.

“Well, sometimes it gets impossibly hard when you look as stunning as today, Mrs Barnes. Sadly all words fade away and as I am captured by your beauty all I can seem to hear is kiss me. How can I not comply?” he said so innocently and with such an adorable smile you couldn't help your fond one in return.

Seeing such adoration and love written all over your face had your heart on overdrive again, as if it was the first time you realized you were in love with him again. It was incredible how you could barely remember that moment whenever you thought about it, however you didn't care. You couldn't find yourself to care when looking at him had your chest fill with warmth, a pleasant buzz all over your body and no weight dragging you down. He made things more simple, having his love and having him by his side made life have meaning and your future full of hope. It hadn't been easy, that much in a way you could remember, but you knew it was worth it because he was worth it. You wanted to give him all your love, wishing that it could live up to the one in his eyes for you in return, so that he could understand what you did from the first moment you met him: he deserved it.

And even if- you couldn't explain why you thought so, but even if there were ever people that would willingly leave him behind, even if you'd never understand that, you were ready to show to him that you could and would be with him till the end of the line. This love you had in you for him had sealed the deal long before you even knew about it.

If anything, you were more than willing to live in this small town, heavens in these four walls of your house, so long as you had him by your side and were able to give him all the love you didn't know you had for him.

You shook your head lightly and gave him “Sweet talking me will get you nowhere, darling. Or rather-” you paused, smirking at him “It might get you in one place. The bedroom.” you grinned when you saw his eyebrows raise in interest “To get Jean's suit. Cause I remember I have some adjustments to make.”

“Bet you do.” he huffed like a little child “Cause she'll be a bird and not a superhero who-”

“Not just a phoenix bird, Buck. The phoenix, that's different.” you pointed out, making him frown.

“How is that different? And what... is the phoenix?”

“Well, it's-” you started but paused abruptly, frowning at your own thoughts “It's actually-” you blinked several time and let out a nervous laugh “Funny thing, I... can't remember. Wow that's... it happens all the more often lately.”

“Can't be important then, right?” he brushed it off casually even though you kept frowning in deep thought which for some reason didn't lead anywhere “Certainly no more than Jean's suit that it... And how we could incorporate a shiel-”

“No.” you cut him off before he could get to complete his sentence “Not gonna happen. I've already got everything planned, you're not going to ruin my plans.”

“Is this how it's gonna go every Halloween now? Us fighting over what Jean's costume will be until she's old enough to choose herself?”

“Oh dear, of course not. It's not fighting when you don't stand a chance against me in the first place.” you shrugged innocently and he tried to look stern by narrowing his eyes at you but you smiled and pecked his lips before speaking “I mean, you could never say no to these pretty eyes, could you?” you batted your eyes at him and he very fast, much faster than last time, sighed in defeat and nodded his head “Besides, you don't have to worry. Next Halloween we'll make her a costume that incorporates the shield too, happy?”

“Always.” he breathed out with such ease that it took a few seconds for you to not openly stare at just how much relaxed he looked, how he truly meant it and how shockingly different he looked while admitting it compared to only a few months ago... months, you weren't sure of the time anymore but truth was that you didn't care, because if there was one thing you could remember was that he had not always been like this and to have him truly happy made everything worth it.

“However-” he cleared his throat, as if noticing how you'd zoned out “That doesn't really solve the problem. Having to compromise, you know. Why should any of us have to? However, if we were to have more than one option...” he trailed off, leaning in closer without any regard for your personal space, not that he needed to, as you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him “Say... if we were to have more than one options then things wouldn't be this hard, right? Just... to make it easier on ourselves?”

“Make it easier... how exactly?”

His hands found your hips, earning a small giggle from you as he pecked your neck once, twice and three times before he kissed your cheek and the temple, whispering in the end “Let's make more.” it earned a squeal from your as your eyes widened but he grinned even more widely “Come on, think about it. A little boy or maybe another baby girl, Jean would make a great sister. And we wouldn't have to argue about the Halloween costumes. Besides... would be a fun process either way.”

“You have to be kidding me.” you gave him a serious expression but his hopeful smile- no, scratch that. His smile that was bordering that of an idiot, if not lovesick one (but you were on the same boat on that), didn't fade in the least bit “Oh you have to- Alright, Mr Barnes, how about you learn how to feed your daughter without making a mess first and then you can come and talk to me about a second or third one hm? Cause, good as you might be at changing diapers, it ain't just that.”

“She just makes a mess because she enjoys to laugh at my expense, just like you and Sam.” he pointed out and you fought back a smile “And- Hold up a second... did you just say third? You think you're gonna let me ask for a third one too?”

Your eyes widened when you realized that he was really considering the prospect before your lips parted, you being ready to retort-

Only for no words to be uttered after that from your lips. The only sound being a deep intake of air as you were startled awake. Soon followed by a groan as you took in your surroundings and realized you were sadly still in your room. Sadly? Really? You didn't know if that was the case but even if it was, you didn't want to think even more about it. You buried your face in your pillow, not ready to face the day yet because... who were you even kidding? You wanted to go back to it. If not that fake reality, if not the playhouse that Wanda had built out of her grief and had dragged you into it as well - and maybe you hated yourself for how part of you did want that - then at least your dream would be nice.

It's been months and yet it feels as if it's been just yesterday that you were all released from her control. How could you not feel that way after all? When you were awake, the fake reality you'd thought your life was constantly on your mind, and when you were asleep even if you were not thinking of it, you were dreaming about it. It was constantly on your mind. And as if the experience itself, mind-control and all, hadn't left you with a few mental scares to add to your already existing ones to take care of, then the realization of the truth that lay within your own heart, was more than enough to keep the events replaying on your mind day and night.

To put matters simply: when you had followed your best friend, Wanda, after seeing her so distraught, leaving SWORD, you had never thought you'd find yourself playing house with a fake copy of one and only James Bucky Barnes thanks to said best friend. But while there was a chance for that, you never thought there was a chance that you'd realize you had feelings for the man all along.

Your life had been different there. Maybe because you were always close with the other Avenger, who knew. While there were times where you'd experience Wanda's grief, her nightmares from time to time came to haunt you at night just like it did with the rest of the town, your life was mostly... good. No, forget that, your life was nearly perfect. You had everything you wished for and things you didn't even know you had wished for. Maybe deep down you had always wanted it, a normal life, peace and calm, a kid whether it was yours or not... Bucky. You had probably always wanted him but didn't know it yourself, no doubt you were too busy crushing over Steve.

If only your current self could see your past self, or at least self of barely a year ago, you'd have smacked some sense into your stupid self who thought Steve Rogers was the only man you could ever have eyes for. While you had come to be very close with the Captain and ended up doing almost everything together, everyone thought there was much more to the two of you, that it hadn't even occurred to you to think that Steve wasn't really the one you wanted. Maybe you had convinced yourself so, in a way that now that he was no longer there you were more shaken by the fact that you were not shaken by how he had decided to live his life with Peggy in the past than his absence itself.

You had not felt any sort of betrayal, nor that you were suddenly all alone, certainly not as if anything was missing from your life. Granted, you had plenty to think about most of the time, day and night, but that didn't change things. You wished Steve had had a happy ending and you would on the occasion miss him the way you'd miss... a brother. You were always calm, no worries or fears, content with the fact that you knew he had been happy even if it was away from you because, in a way, you wanted it to be that way, it was natural. However, the mere thought of someone else leaving, someone that you thought far too often about, made your heart leap to your throat and your stomach tie in knots. The mere thought that Bucky could leave the way Steve had done made your throat close in a painful way and your eyes burn with tears, making you realize just who mattered the most.

If, again, Wanda plucking the truth about your feelings for the man to give you a life with him wasn't proof enough.

Your phone buzzing made you jump once more, eyes landing on the device on the nightstand. Reaching for it you were not surprised to see the messages that were pilled in your inbox. All from the same specific someone. A specific someone you had found yourself speaking with all the more often lately. Each time successfully managing to make you smile in one way or another, without fail.

Good morning. :)

Did I use that one correctly? I keep forgetting them, no matter how many times you show me.

And show him you had, just like that there was an option for him to choose from different ones instead of having to type them, but that was still work in progress. So even if Bucky learning emojis was a memory that you'd cherish forever, it wasn't the only important one at the moment.

On second thought, it's a bit too early.

You're probably still asleep. Nevermind. Sorry for bothering you.

And then more, shortly afterwards.

I only wanted to know if you're alright, that's all.

Anyway, hope I didn't wake you up.

He, much like everyone else, thought it was hard on you to deal with Steve being gone so he did his best to keep in touch and being as selfish as you were, you didn't bring yourself to tell him the truth that you cared more to know about how he was and wanted the contact for that. Maybe he was also worried about you after Wanda's mind-control too. But if Sam's words were anything to go by, then it was all an excuse for Bucky to stay close with you. You didn't let your hopes get up for that reason though. You could gladly take whatever you got without wondering.

Again it was followed not much later by another message.

I've actually got something to talk to you about. Something happened, though you could already know if you saw the news. Can I come over to talk with you? I need your opinion on the matter.

And shortly afterwards came.

I've already got your favorite breakfast. To make up for, probably, waking you up. :)

The next one had taken longer, he had probably been waiting for an answer all that time. You couldn't help but feel bad about it. That and the fact that the reason behind you not replying earlier was because of how immensed you were in your fantasy life with him that you had not told him a thing about.

(Y/n)... are you sure you're alright? It's getting late even for you.

Truth was you had more trouble waking up after having a dream of that time. But you couldn't tell him that. And then there was the latest one.

Alright, I'm coming over. I really hope you're not dead in there. I'm not going to let you hear the end of it if you are. Oh dear, I sound like Sam right now. Forget I ever said that. Both of it.

Before you even had the time to think about what he could mean, because no you had really not seen the news yet, let alone type back a reply, the door to your bedroom burst open. It earned a squeal from you as you looked with wide eyes at Bucky standing on the doorway. You weren't even surprised how you hadn't heard him, not when he already had keys to your apartment and could easily sneak up on you. Not that him surprising you was what you cared about at the moment. It was, and you could only admit it to yourself, more important how you looked at the moment – and having just woken up you weren't sure just how attractive you looked – than anything else. Especially when Bucky looked better than ever with that new haircut that you were sure he'd gotten on purpose, just to test how much your heart could take.

“I thought doors existed back in your days, Barnes. Maybe knocking was an option too.”

You saw him let out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing “What would have been the point if you were dead? You wouldn't have replied anyway.”

“Bold of you to assume I would miss on another chance to lecture you about the proper use of emojis, Mr Barnes. Even death could not stop me.” you broke into a grin and he chuckled.

“What, did I really mess it up?” he asked with a small, far too adorable for your own good, frown.

“Oh no you got it just right.” you said softly, adoring the proud look on his face before you added “However, I've told you, you don't have to type them anymore. There is an option on your keyboard with that kind of stuff for you to-”

“Eh alright, alright I get it. I suck at it. I'm not even gonna try using them anymore.”

“Wha- No!” you whined softly “No, Buck, I didn't mean that. Come on, you're good. You just... have a lot to learn still.” you shrugged “That's all. We didn't do great at first either. Nobody really got emojis a first, but you'll get the hang of it.”

“But you still think I am a grandpa when it comes to technology. And my age doesn't help on that case either.” he shrugged, as if he meant it casually as a joke but you could see a small hint of self-consciousness there as well.

“Nonsense.” you said softly, finally throwing the blankets off you “You're far from a grandpa, Buck. In fact, I strongly believe that 106 is the new 30, and you don't look a day over that.” the words were out of your lips before you could even think about it and when you realized what you'd said, your smile flattered a bit. You were glad his back was turned to on that second that he didn't notice. You cleared your throat, sobering up “Besides, new things are not everyone's cup of tea anyway.”

“Uh yeah...” you notice the relaxed, and almost happy, look fade away from his face as his eyebrows pulled back into a frown. He looked down for a second, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets “Things do change. Sometimes faster than we can adapt to the new world around us.”

“Alright, unless you're channeling Charles Darwin right now, which I don't think you are, care to explain to me what's wrong? Because... I am guessing something is, judging by your expression.” you got up and approached “Is this... about the shield? I- I don't know if Sam giving it up is that much of a good choice however... he must have his reasons, right?”

“Well, yes, but- this is not just about that.” he sighed, finally looking up to meet your eyes “Something happened and I've been thinking about it, I wanted your opinion on it. You know it matters to me.”

“...And? There is more to that, come on. Tell me.” you knew him too well and you hadn't even realized when that happened too “You know you can... Always.”

“I do.” he paused for a moment, holding your gaze before he let a soft sigh “It's just, I am going to go find Sam and... I want you to come with me. If you're up for it, I would like you to be there with me... maybe?”

“You know... I should punch you just for doubting whether I'd follow you or not. But just because it won't lead anywhere for me-” you smirked at him “Buy me dinner too and consider yourself excused and me up for any challenge. Strongest Avenger at your disposal, Mr Barnes.” you patted his shoulder, enjoying the deep chuckle that came from him. Even if his next words made the air get caught in your throat.

“It's a date then.”

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

pairing. gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded. it’s just that fluffy. (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings. established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower.

wc. 9.7k

beta reader(s). the lovely @kerikaaria read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy. tysm! 💛 i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly. oops...

author note. this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves. while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside. i hope you enjoy it!

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened. You remember, faintly, the mention of a party. Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc. He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought. If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway. Win-win or whatever.

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge. Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean.

“Zarya’s one! Zarya’s one—“ You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen. You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too. There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch. “Zarya’s actually one!”

No one cares. She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map.

“Jesus—“ Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue. You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.

I need healing! I need healing!

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way. Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though. There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point. Stupid. You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support.

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked. So infuriating and yet— nope. Just infuriating.

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise. Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise. He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face. You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru. He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team. A silver lining, you suppose.

Your second round starts well enough. Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta. Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana. You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn. Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost. (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado. The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong. Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter.

“You winning?”

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction. You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.

(It’s not your own fault. He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!” You want to be more mad. Really, you do. You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long. Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn.

“What?” Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime.

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves. All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder. You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days. You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery.

It’s a little distracting; he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual. You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck. Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see; it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over. You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication. (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.)

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so. You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words).

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet.

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya? She has grav.” Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon. Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock. If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game.

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void. Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces. Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next. Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,” says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head. He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match. It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.

“Rip is right,” you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map. If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms. Jungkook chuckles at that.

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well. There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested. Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”

You don’t turn your head. Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you. Sometimes, you love it; other times, you hate it. Most times, though, he’s right. He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame).

“Can we go top left?” You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main. Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team. Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited. “You should be back right by the stairs. You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point. Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav. She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you. As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen.

“Told you,” he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore.

“I was going to say thank you.” Just not right now. You can’t multitask quite like he can.

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display. “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock. Thank freaking god. You can win this, you think. Easy. No problem.

“Go Ana on defense.” At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth. You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin.

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time. He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat.

“Do you just want to play?” You don’t mean it seriously. You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you. It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship.

“Nah, I’m snacking.” He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon.

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions. He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do. He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do. He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t.

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair. You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears.

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game. There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back.

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie. “We won,” you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug.

“Of course you did.” He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you. He’d been a great coach.

“What’re you doing here?” It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest. He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair. (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines. You don’t care.)

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.” You remember, because you’d been disappointed. Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,” he states, like he’s talking to a moron. You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen. Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena. It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it.

“Yeah, we,” Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker. “Halloween party, baby. Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises: (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party? You didn’t think idols had those. Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no. Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach. It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day.

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face. It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way. Why’s he looking at you like that? Why’s your memory so bad? Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions?

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance. It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage. A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns.

“I— don’t remember that.” You’re lying through your damn teeth. Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass.

“But you did!” He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal. It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me! You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate.

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here. It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia. “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular. You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish.

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs. (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs. You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.) It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing. The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames. Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them; Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.

“I don’t think I can pull this off,” you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious. (You were, once. Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.)

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places. Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest. You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it. (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention. Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you. You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp. A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue. “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance. It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten. It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot. It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart. “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then. He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened. He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom. How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure. All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up; yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug. You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson. They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay— that was scary. I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.” A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees. It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?” You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there. He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms; he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh. His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised; Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer. (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.” Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end. It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature. You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee. Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact. A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious. You look—” You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose. A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon. “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it. Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders. You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself. All part of his plan, you suppose. “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.

“Okay! Sorry!” Except he doesn’t look very sorry. More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you. You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie. You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment. (Not that you really mind.)

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip. It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting. Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks. It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love.

Today, it comes after the fourth count.

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.” Well, of course you will. As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas. It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams.

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times. “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins. It’s unfairly adorable. Still, you push. Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you. From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted.

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot. You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum. A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to. You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you; rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.” By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful. The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday.

It turns out to be the opposite: one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend. He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger. You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another. For tonight, they’re one and the same.

“Joker? Seriously?” You can’t hide the delight. It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction. Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask. “Don’t sound so excited.” It’s an actual concern of his. He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more. He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting.

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky. You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises. It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently. You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared; you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.” You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes. It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes. It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling. Bastard. “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker. You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter. He’s dressed this way because you like the character.

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much more to say. Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it.

“Yeah,” he parrots back, a little smug.

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life. He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set. You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better. (You suppose he is.)

“Angel, come here!” He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side. Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love. There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball. You don’t mind. You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.

“I’m winning,” he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh. Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst. Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.” You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element. He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some. It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is). “How many games have you won?” Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.” God, his ego. You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best. Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck. He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you. To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.

“Can we play?” Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks. You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs. Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend. (How fitting.) “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch. “No, you’re just bad at games!” He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes. Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink. In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus. (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?) You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily. Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.” And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond. He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life.

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”

“Ahhhhhh, stop!” It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own. Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads. “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!” You know it isn’t true. Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines). But together? It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.

You absolutely loved it.

“Sure, sure,” the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot. One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins. A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour. You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one. Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour. “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.

“Drink this!”

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?” You’re incredulous. Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless. Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!” The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too. “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy? It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?).

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it. Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body. “Don’t die!” He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”

“No, you’re fine.” He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up. You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement. “Your face, oh— Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane. You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together. It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor. Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms. You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?” It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies. He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just hanging out,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft. A modern day olive branch. “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close. Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like. It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like. Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away. You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness. “You sound drunk, angel,” he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek. It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin. It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves. “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,” comes Jimin from beside you. There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him. He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation. When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case. “Want to head home?”

You do. You really, really do.

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are. Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—” There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet. “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway. “Sorry,” you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused. It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.” He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh. Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away. “Here, let me.”

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time. (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,” you tease, clinging to him like a koala. You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven. “Or are you the court jester? That’s what Joker is, right?” It’s a joke and a bad one at that. Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.

“You’re drunk.” He says it more kindly than you expect. Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve. You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded. There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare. It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought. You have to tell him. Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it. “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down. As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands. (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.) “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?” You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon. You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.” It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that. You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style. You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression. “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does. You pout, as you so often do.

“Okay,” you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder. You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings. “Will you wash my hair?” You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.” Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck. When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips. You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat. Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.” As if that’s meant to stop you. He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention. He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,” you mumble into the expanse of his chest. He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable. You think you could live in the feeling of his arms. (You’re lucky you get to.) You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most. “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation. You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless. It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.

He’d explained it to you once. Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first. Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t. JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm. Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that. You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.” You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon. You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure. “Gotta get undressed to shower,” he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises? It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care. Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow. You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep. He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle. His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck. You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight. You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits. There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.” The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“We are, angel,” Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame. “Just need to get you warmed up first.”

“The shower’ll be warm,” you say - or think you say, anyway. It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off. Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat. “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.” Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern. You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise. “I never want you to stop.”

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair. He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you,” he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment. He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off. You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders. You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.

“Start the shower.”

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that. You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away. The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,” he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream. He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip. You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does. You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside. It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you. You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.

“Hair?” You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder. It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.

“Patience, baby.” It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess. He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue. (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—” The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand. Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it. It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips. A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit. The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump. Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair. “Patience,” he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist. He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue.

“Kook,” you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess. There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest. A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.

“Relax for me.” You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more. You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish. (You wish you could see him.)

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him. (It was.) He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense. Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures. With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,” comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care. Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls. He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard. Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot; it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.

“K-Kook.” It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.

“I’ve got you.” And he does - hook, line, and sinker. He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave. It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go. He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn. See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service. Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him. You should recognise the look on his face. “Kook?”

“My turn.” It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward. There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you. It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in. “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely. (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed. In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine. It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat. His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear. It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure. “Oh fuck,” he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.

“Always so good for me.” Another thing he says, often and without prompting. It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Because I love you,” you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.

“Love you too, angel.” He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway. He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted. He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart. Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust. An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision; it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard. He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high. You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings.

“Kook,” you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower. The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm. You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing. It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.

“P-please, Kook. Please.” You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his. He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation. “Come for me, Kook. Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars. Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you. It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs. You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.

“I love you,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours. “But I still need you to wash my hair.” It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days. “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.” Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements. He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery. Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.

“I thought I was an angel.” You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks. Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline. Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice. “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”

You can’t argue with that.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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doctenwho · 3 years

Text

Ten’s First (real) Halloween

Hello! Thank so much for the prompt! Sorry this is a day late, I meant to do it yesterday, but got distracted carving a pumpkin spiderman and sitting on the step with my mom to greet trick or treaters! I hope you all had a great Halloween though!

I should probably start off saying that I’ve never seen Pulp Fiction, and I also don’t Halloween party at all. Hopefully this turned out good anyways. I jumped ahead a bit with the prompts to do this one before I felt too awkward to complete it. Can’t really post a Halloween fic mid November, but I’m back to sticking to the order things come in!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,557

Summary: A Halloween fic, read the prompt above!

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator!)

“I’ve decided,” you told the Doctor as you made your way into the console room and plopped yourself down on the chair. You looked up the Doctor’s profile from behind, grinning to yourself.

The Doctor froze where he was fiddling around with the console, turning to look at you with a questioning glance. He raised an eyebrow in question, eyeing you up and down before he finally replied with a confused, “decided what, exactly?”

“What we’re going to be for Halloween!” you chirped excitedly. You reclined back in the chair, grinning brightly at the Doctor as he blinked at you. “I’ve been thinking for weeks now, and I’ve finally picked out perfect costumes for us!”

“Uh?” the Doctor finally turned towards you, leaning back against the console and crossing his feet in front of him. The man cocked his head to the side, expressing a confusion you didn’t often see from him, “costumes?”

“Of course,” you gave a serious nod, crossing your arms across your chest to express the seriousness of the conversation, “costumes take a lot of thought, Doctor.”

“I believe you,” the Doctor responded, frowning thoughtfully at you, “I’m just... well, not quite sure what you’re on about, if I’m honest. Why are you so excited about this?”

“What?” you blinked in surprise, “you don’t know about Halloween? I thought you were an expert on everything earth?”

“No,” the Doctor straightened, “I know of the day, of course I do--” he gestured to himself, “Time-Lord, remember? I’ve visited the very first of each earth holiday through the years, All-Hallows Eve included—well, Samhain at least. Saw that and never bothered returning around the month of October.”

He eyed you for a second before continuing, “what I just can’t seem to understand is why you’d be excited for bonfires and the human race feeling the need to wear monster masks to ward off ghosts—which by the way, would not help at all.”

You stared at the man for a second, then another before you finally blinked at him, “so, you’re telling me you haven’t seen Halloween on earth since like the eighteenth century?”

“More like the eighth century,” the Doctor corrected, scrunching his face up in distaste, “wasn’t a fan then, not a fan now. I’m more of a Christmas guy, I suppose.”

“The holiday has completely changed,” you told him, standing from your seat and moving towards him in excitement, “it’s not like... well, that anymore. Very few fires, and the dressing up is more for fun than to hide from, uhm, ghosts? It’s parties, and trick-or-treating door to door for sweets, and getting scared!”

“Really?” the Doctor scrunched his nose up, eyeing you where you stood before him with a bright smile.

“Yeah,” you smiled, leaning into his space, “it’s for fun now, we’ve swayed a bit from hiding away from ghosts. Just modern traditions now.”

“I see,” the Doctor hummed, turning back towards the TARDIS console. “Sounds interesting.”

“It is,” you agreed with a smile, moving to stand beside him and observe his hands moving fluently along the knobs and dials on the console, “so, what do you think about heading to earth for Halloween this year?”

The Doctor turned his head towards you, gave you a crooked smile, “nah.”

And then you were landing.

----

“Come on,” you pleaded, “I’ve got the perfect costumes picked out for us, and it’ll look dumb if I go by myself when the costume is supposed to be a couples costume!”

The Doctor gave you a sideways glance, “and what are these costumes?”

You’d let the conversation drop earlier (or rather, had gotten dragged into another space mess you and the Doctor needed to clean up), but you weren’t about to drop the subject. Now you had a personal mission to reintroduce the Doctor to modern Halloween and all its glory.

“Okay,” you grinned, “so, I was planning on being Mia Wallace—I can pull it off, don’t you think? Actually, it doesn’t matter, it’s Halloween. Anyways, I think you’d make a great Vincent Vega. Plus, it would look weird if I showed up as Mia but I didn’t have a Vincent, right? I don’t think people would even know who we were if we didn’t show up together.”

“And... who’re these people?”

“They’re characters from Pulp Fiction,” you explained. “It’s a popular film down on earth—I can’t believe you’ve never heard of it.”

“Right,” the Doctor gave a nod, but you were sure he didn’t really understand what you were talking about. It was nice he pretended too thought. “I never agreed to this... costume thing. Doesn’t sound much different from hiding from ghosts to me. You’ll still be changing your appearance to hide.”

“It’s completely different, and we’re not hiding, it’s for fun,” you scoffed, slightly offended, but not really since this was the Doctor, “we’re going to a party, my cousin’s Halloween party. And besides, the characters don’t even have masks, they’re regular people. Clothes, makeup, wigs.”

“Well then, this holiday really has strayed from its roots then, hasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged, “I don’t think it’s changed much.”

The Doctor gave you a tilt of his head,smile small, “right, well, you didn’t get to experience Samhain, now did you? You’ve got nothing to compare current Halloween too.” You pouted at the man, but he didn’t seem too bothered as he continued fiddling with the TARDIS.

“It really is fun,” you attempted, “it’s probably super different from the first Halloween you didn’t like, but, like, in a good way. Halloween is the best! And all my friends will be there, and the costumes are always great—there's a costume contest.”

“I can always drop you off,” the Doctor suggested with a glance back at you. “You know I’d never keep you here against your will, just say the word and I’ll return you to earth.”

“No,” you groaned, “that ruins the fun. I can’t show up alone again,” you sighed slumping in the chair, “if you’re not going there’s barely a point in me going. I want to have fun with you, and celebrate the holiday with you. Besides, I’ve already got the costumes made up. You had everything in your collection of clothes for a Vincent costume, and I already had most of Mia’s clothes. It’s perfect, Doctor!”

“Gatherings aren’t for me,” the Doctor replied, “friends and family of my companions? Nothing ever goes right when the friends and families of companions know of me and where I take you, believe me on that one.”

“But it’s Halloween,” you pouted, “no one will be asking about any of that, not one says anything serious. And we don’t have to stay for long, we can just pop in and leave. I just... want to show you that it’s changed, Doctor. Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, and I want to share that with you.”

“(Y/N),” the Doctor turned to you, frowning. He was giving you that look he always did when he was about to disappoint you and hated doing it. He stared at you for a moment before he sighed heavily, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” you blinked in surprise, “really?”

“Not a yes,” the man continued with a serious voice, “but I’ll think about it, alright?”

----

If you knew anything about older people, it was that a maybe wasn’t much more than a no. It was a no that left the receiver hopeful of a positive outcome. A failsafe, for the person to say maybe, so they could say no later, and not outright say it. Because a maybe left room for a yes, or, a more likely no.

So, as much as the maybe was progress, it was still basically a no. And you wouldn’t settle for an open-ended no. If the Doctor really didn’t want to go, you’d leave it after today. But you couldn’t settle for a devastating no closer to Halloween when you’d had your hopes up for so long.

“Pleaseee?” you begged. It was just about the time you’d usually head off to bed and leave the Doctor to his own devices for the night. You sat curled up on the chair in the console room, warm in pajamas as you watched the Doctor do whatever it was he usually did in the evening.

This was the last time you’d ask for the Doctor to accompany you to the Halloween party. You weren’t going to force—not that you were sure you even could if you tried. He was superior to you, not that he pointed it out often. You’d rather a no than a maybe that got your hopes up.

You just really wanted to go this party with someone else, and who better than the Doctor? You’d always gone alone, or with friends, and your cousin always teased you about it. But what would he say when you showed up with someone? Someone as cool (and strange) as the Doctor?

And in matching costumes as well, it would be adorable, and finally break your cousin from his teasing.

“You’re not gonna give up on this, are you?”

The Doctor hadn’t bothered looking away from his fiddling at the console, but you could hear some humor in his voice, “then again, I expect nothing less from humans who travel with me. I’d be persistent as well.”

“So you’ll come?” you perked up where you were slumped into the seat. “And don’t give me another maybe, I want a real answer, Doctor.”

“Yes, fine. Alright.” The man tipped his head in your direction, giving a small smile, “we can visit Halloween and go to your cousin’s party.”

----

“(Y/N)!” Your cousin greeted brightly, dressed as a vampire with fake blood smeared across his mouth. “You’re here,” he continued, pulling you into a hug, “haven’t heard from you in a bit, wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“Wasn’t sure I would make it,” you explained honestly, “had trouble convincing my friend to join me.”

“Friend?” you cousin raised an eyebrow, looking around you easily, “and, where is this friend?”

“He’s... parking,” you shrugged.

“He’s?” your cousin teased while waggling his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest as you scoffed.

“Yes, he’s,” you groaned, stressing the word in annoyance, “cut it out. Don’t act so surprised that I’ve brought a friend. And really don’t around him, got it?”

“I wasn’t,” he raised his hands in mock surrender, smile wide and teasing in a cousin-y way. Then, he was gesturing down to your costume, “now, what’re you supposed to be anyways?”

You almost groaned at your cousin not knowing your Mia Wallace costume, but you knew it was because your Vincent Vega wasn’t here with you. You opened your mouth to respond in a snarky reply, but before you could, the door was opening and your Vincent Vega was walking in with a hesitant expression.

“Over here!” You called him over with a wave. You watched as the man’s expression settled on you, before he was stepping towards you and stopping at your side, eyeing your cousin.

“This is... your friend?” your cousin tilted his head, eyeing the Doctor with a sideways glance.

“’ello!” the Doctor grinned from your side, hesitance waning for the sake of proper introduction, which he really did love. The man gave your cousin a friendly wave, “I’m the Doctor.”

“The Doctor?” your cousin blinked at the Doctor before turning his confusion to you. You gave your relative a grin, setting your hand on the Doctor’s shoulder before nodding. “Alright, well,” your cousin clapped his hands together in an inviting gesture, “(Y/N), Doctor, enjoy the party then! Everyone’s here, and they’re all dying to see you!”

By everyone, your cousin really did mean everyone. The two of you had grown up in the same neighborhood, had gone to the same school and of course, had the same group of friends. Everyone you knew, your cousin knew as well. So, everyone really would be here.

You turned your head to watch as more people entered your cousin’s house, he threw a wave at them before grinning, “mingle,” he suggested, “I’ve gotta go play host some more. Have fun!”

You watched your cousin disappear to talk to the newcomers, a group of his sports friends you hadn’t seen in years. Some threw a wave back at you, and you returned it easily.

When you turned back to the Doctor he was looking around at everyone already mingling, eyed following around to the activities and dancing going on, “these people,” he mumbled, “they’re dressed as creatures. A mummy, a siren—is that a clown? Your cousin was a vampire...”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “and we’re dressed up as Mia and Vincent—and my friend over there is a pirate, and that guy is Mario. It’s all make believe, just for fun.”

“Right,” the Doctor gave a nod.

“Now,” you called excitedly, “let’s go see the jack-o-lanterns and carved pumpkins, ooh, and we can bob for apples. Haven’t done that in years.”

“I’m sorry, what?” the Doctor tilted his head at you, but he looked curious. And a curious Doctor was a fun Doctor.

“I’ll show you,” you promised, “it’s fun. Trust me.” You grabbed the man’s hand, not waiting for a response as you dragged him through the party to where the music was the loudest and the activities were set up.

The Doctor loved the activities, as far as you could tell, at least. He dove right into bobbing for apples, competing good naturedly with some of the other guys surrounding the tub of water. You’d decided against dunking your head in the water, in fear that your Mia makeup would run and smear if wet.

You’d barely put any on the Doctor, but he still somehow managed to look like Vincent. You still couldn’t believe that the clothing the Doctor was wearing right now had been on the TARDIS already. You’d barely had to add anything to the look.

Every activity you stumbled upon; the Doctor seemed to enjoy. He even carved a pumpkin (an image of a Dalek, which he’d done when you mentioned people liked to carve scary things in the spirit of the holiday). People didn’t know what it was, but they all loved his creativity and carving.

“So, who’s the handsome lad you brought with you tonight?” You looked to your side, where your longest friend was standing beside you. “And better question, where do I find one of my own?”

“His name’s the Doctor,” you informed, before grinning, “and he’s one of a kind. Sorry.”

“Figures,” your friend sighed, not even questioning the man’s name like you’d thought they would’ve, “the two of you are cute together, he seems to really like you.”

You opened your mouth to deny the fact when your friend continued on, “I mean, he’d have to like you a lot to do a couples costume. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” you swallowed, “we’re just friends. And we’re just matching. Where’s the harm in that?”

“Sure,” your friend shrugged, “and I’m the Queen of England. You dressed him up in a costume matching yours and you try to tell me he’s just a friend?”

“Just friends,” you insisted, but you knew you were blushing, “and leave him alone, would you? He’s... not like us. He’s never had a Halloween like this.”

“Sure,” your friend shrugged, “I just wanted to check in before you take off like you always do and I don’t see you for months. And now, you come back with this boyfriend no one’s ever seen, hopefully you don’t make a habit of that.”

“Not my boy-”

“Yeah, yeah,” your friend laughed, “maybe not yet. Best friend’s intuition, it’ll happen, (Y/N).” Your friend gave you a teasing grin before leaving you to watch the Doctor carve the finishing touches on his Dalek pumpkin.

Your friend teasing you was just the beginning of it. The amount of times old friends of yours came up to you and asked if you and the Doctor were dating, or if the Doctor was your boyfriend, or, even commenting that they didn’t know you were seeing someone was absurd. And everyone commenting on how amazing the two of you looked as Mia and Vincent (or just the matching, couple-y costumes in general if they didn’t know the characters) was overwhelming.

And the Doctor would just grin brightly and wrap his arm around your shoulders or peck your cheek while you tried to tell people he was not, in fact, your boyfriend. At least he was having a good time.

The teasing smile he gave you whenever someone would walk away after assuming the two of you were together would almost be annoying if it weren’t for the brightness of the smile.

“Maybe I was wrong,” the Doctor said when the two of you finally stepped out of the party.

The Doctor had made his way through every activity, debunked anything that was supposed to be scary for you (even if he didn’t need too), and greeted everyone in attendance with cheerfulness. You were almost certain he’d enjoyed himself, at least a little.

“Wrong?” you prompted, taking his hand and leading him down your cousin’s driveway and away from the party.

“A bit,” the man shrugged, “that was pretty nice. Maybe I don’t hate Halloween after all. All the dangerous creatures around us, but nothing trying to harm us, eh? What a change of pace.”

“That’s the fun of it,” you agreed with a smile, “just for tonight, you can be anything you want. No one will tell you you look weird, everyone just goes with the flow.”

“You humans are strange creatures, you know? Now, I still don’t know about the costumes though,” the man pulled on his shirt, “not sure I pull it off, y’know?”

“You look fine.”

The two of you walked slowly towards the TARDIS. The Doctor had parked the space and time machine a bit away from the party, like you’d suggested so no one would find it and the night of tricks. You could barely imagine the Doctor’s rage had the TARDIS been egged or, covered in toilet paper as a stupid Halloween prank.

A couple costumed children ran past you, laughing and giggling as they moved up the walkway of the house you were currently walking in front of. The Doctor paused to watch, and you stopped as well.

“Trick or treat!” the youngsters cheered when the door was pulled open. You strained to hear the conversation as the woman to answer the door cooed at their costumes and dropped some sweets into their trick or treat bags.

“What’re they doing?” the Doctor turned to look at you.

“Trick or treating,” you explained, “it’s something the kids do every year. Houses hand out sweets and the children go door to door collecting them in costume. It’s fun,” you told him, “there’s nothing better when you’re little.”

“Did you?” The Doctor asked softly, still observing the bright smiles on the children’s faces as the moved onto the next house.

“’course,” you grinned, “did the whole neighborhood every year. Loads of sweets to eat.”

The man’s expression brightened into a wide smile, “let’s do it!” he exclaimed, “c’mon, (Y/N), trick or treat with me, I know you want too! Live a little!”

“Doctor...” you paused, looking at the man’s wide eyes, bright with a childish glow. He was nothing but a child on the inside. And you should know that, if you hadn’t already, by the way that man had been mesmerized by all the activities at the party.

You really didn’t have the heart to tell the man that adults didn’t trick or treat, and that it was actually kind of frowned upon. Trick or treating was really for the young kids, and usually stopped around teen years. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to say, especially not when he was bouncing on his feels in excitement. “Sure, Doctor. Let’s go to a couple houses.”

Surprisingly, no one made any fuss about the Gallifreyan trick or treating at their houses. It was almost like everyone could sense the man had no ill intent, and really just wanted to experience trick or treating. It was like those who answered the doors could tell he’d never been before, and was overjoyed at the thought just like any other kid to come to their home.

The two of you returned to the TARDIS a bit later than you’d thought, pockets full of sweets and candies handed out by the lovely homeowners you’d visited.

“I’ve changed my mind,” the man called as he emptied his pockets onto the TARDIS console. You were sure that they’d be shot around the room in the next few minutes, but didn’t really mind, “that,” he gestured to the door, “was brilliant. Halloween is brilliant. You... you humans, you’re all brillant!”

“Thanks, I think,” you snorted. “So, you had fun then?”

“Oh yeah,” the man grinned, “loads’ve it! I’ve really been missing out, haven’t I? Trick or treating, and Halloween, who’d’ve thought it could be that fun?”

You resisted rolling your eyes, since you’d tried to tell him that earlier. It wasn’t worth it, not when the Doctor was in just a good mood.

“You know, (Y/N),” the Doctor called, not looking away from what he was doing.

“Hm?”

“Next year, we’ll dress up as Thijarians. We’ll definitely win the costume contest dressed as Thijarians.”

<><><><>

Hope you enjoyed! And sorry it’s a day late! I would say prompt me again if it’s not what you’re looking for, but I’ll feel wird posting a Halloween fic a ways after Halloween. Hope you all had a good holiday (and stayed safe!).

Thank you to the person who prompted this, I hope you enjoyed it!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #reader insert #writing prompt #prompt #halloween #fanfiction #fanfic

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Halloween

Right after 5x01 with Reid and Hotch both pulling away, Morgan and Emily take matters into their own hands.

“I don’t want to.”

Morgan, who up until that point, had really, truly believed that the worst of his year was behind him closes his eyes with a tired sigh. As if the pig farm hadn’t felt suffocating on its own, now it’s tangled in his mind with Foyet. The pigs, Mason, that poor girl, and Hotch. Because that terrible night hadn’t ended for Hotch as it had for the rest of them. They slept while Hotch lay on his apartment floor, his own blood soaking into his clothes. The hospital hadn’t even washed the dried blood from his hair by the time the team arrived.

Emily had the next day. It had taken Derek and Emily both to do the seemingly mindless task. Hotch had been uncomfortable, dirty and the nurses had given them the leeway to tackle the task together. And they were both very aware of how annoyed he was to have to succumb to their help. Hotch can hardly raise his arms to his waist, he wasn’t going to be washing his one hair. And as the oldest of his own siblings and still leaning heavily into that protective mindset, Morgan would heavily prefer it to be him there. So, bracing Hotch’s side with his own body, Derek had held Hotch upright while Emily gently scrubbed his hair clean of his blood.

The scent thick and acidic but slowly replaced with a smell distinctly hospital-like. The water had browned, the suds too dirty to even help only about halfway through. Standing there, Hotch’s body growing heavier and shaking gently against Morgan’s ribs he could see every bone in his boss’s back. And, too soon, they had to call it quiets. The monitors were picking up, distraught with the pain Hotch had hidden so well. His heart missing beats as Morgan had eased his head back into the pillows.

Emily standing there, white as a ghost, with that bucket of water. Hotch was only half-aware of them and their intentions by then. Watching Morgan behind half-lidded eyes and lips pale and parted as he took a dry rag through his hair. Morgan’s mother had always told him that going out in the cold with wet hair would give you pneumonia and while he had never known anyone to get pneumonia like that he wasn’t going to take any chances. Even if they were in a temperature-controlled hospital room.

And through all of that, Hotch had made it. Slowly, through shrieking monitors and more than one scare, alive. A fucking miracle.

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?” It’s Halloween. For as long as Morgan has known Reid, it’s been his favorite holiday. Hell, everyone knows it’s his favorite holiday. Even Hotch gets a little festive in the name of bringing even the faintest smile to Reid’s face. The idea for today, a party to celebrate Halloween, had been done with Reid specifically in mind. Being cooped up in this apartment isn’t good for him.

Reid who hasn’t actually looked at Morgan since he came in, twirls the frayed ends of his blanket around his finger. “I don’t want to,” he repeats. It’s one thing to mop about in this apartment. Here, no one watches him struggle to move. No one looks too hard, too long at his ill-practiced steps. At the crutches tucked under his scrawny arms. Worse is that if he goes, he can’t take his crutches. He’ll have to the stupid wheelchair in his room. Whos open seat is a crookedly carved leather smile, taunting him.

Morgan shakes his head and keeps at his current project. For the past week (has it been a week? He isn’t certain) he’s done nothing but tidies up every space around him. Having attacked Hotch’s apartment-- tearing up that blood-stained carpet, patching the hole in the wall, fixing a leaky faucet in the guest room, and cleaning out his worryingly empty fridge-- he’s come to Reid’s. The thing is Reid is going to make this process a little harder. There are bits and pieces of Reid in every corner of his apartment. Not self-deprecatingly bare like Hotch’s. Here, he can’t disrupt the way books lie because they all have been sectioned and left where they are with purpose. There is a purpose to his chaos more meaningful than Hotch’s out of sight out of mind.

“Well, you have to go.”

Reid frowns, biting his lip to refrain from whining. Despite having done more by his current twenty-four-years of age than any of them, they still treat him like a child. And while any of them might be forgiven for a bit of childish refusal he won’t be. Well, in all fairness, he is prone to a bit more childish things than they are. Reid had to be forced to go to the doctor’s for a check-up after getting anthrax and all because he had thought they might ask to do blood tests. What had made him go, in the end? Morgan taking Reid himself. It was humiliating but when they draw blood Morgan had offered his hand and Reid had taken it.

Now, Morgan’s just asking for a favor. For Reid to suck it up, just this once. To have fun and be easy. “Hotch is only coming because he’s under the impression this is all for you.” And it is, all for Reid. None of them care about Halloween. Hotch least of all. But the two of them are going to go crazy cooped up on their own.

Of course, that’s only mostly true.

It’s entirely Morgan and Emily’s idea.

“Okay,” Reid sighs, scratching self-conscious at his scalp. “I just…” he shoves the blankets off his legs. “Just need a few minutes.” A shower. He needs a shower and, if he’s granted the time for it, a pity nap.

Morgan hums, head bent to his current task of cleaning Reid’s strangely large collection of mugs lining his counter. “As long as you need,” he mumbles.

Two years ago, if someone sat David Rossi down and told him that on a Saturday in October he’d be celebrating Halloween as a fully grown man... he wouldn’t believe them. Add in the fact that he would be doing this because it’s a twenty-something-year-old genius’s favorite holiday and he’s doing it to lighten the mood of his old prodigy… well, he’d consider himself senile.

He should have stayed retired.

As of the last month, he’s been thinking that a lot. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the little ragtag team Aaron’s created in his absence but they're a little crazy and trouble magnets-- Emily and Reid attempt at a second Waco with Benjamin Cyrus, the bombing in New York, and George Foyet. All within the span of a year. He’s only heard about some of the other things they did before he came back.

These freaking kids are crazy.

“Will you just listen to me,” Dave is multi-tasking. Aside from picking out comfortable clothes for the evening he also has got to swindle Hotch into coming out to the party. “For once in your life, Aaron, just listen to me.” As dramatic as that may sound, it’s kind of fair. Even when they prodigy and mentor, Aaron had a flair for taking Dave’s instructions in one ear and out the other.

“Dave,” comes Aaron’s soft rebuttal. He’s exhausted. Much to his chagrin, three days rest has done nothing to mend the bone-tired ache in his body. Add the depression he can feel settling across his sternum and the way his ribs feel like they’re being pried open… He has no interest in watching his team get drunk at Dave’s house. Call him a buzzkill or a killjoy to heart’s content, that’s not going to change his mind.

Besides, the last thing he needs is to start himself into a bad habit of drinking every time he’s sad. Then what? He starts himself down a road of addiction. He comes to work drunk. Derek tries to say something. Dave is worried. He gets fired. He’s no better than his own father.

Rossi’s voice softens, any of the agitation previously in his voice is gone. “Aaron,” he calls through the speaker. “I’m not asking. Emily’s on her way right now to come to get you.” He sighs under his breath, just tired, not even mad. “You can make that hard for her,” Dave offers, knowing that’s what Hoch is going to be inclined to do. “I think we both know she deserves a break from that, though.”

Hotch feels the defeat pull his shoulders down. He’s been an asshole lately. Logically, he knows it’s a progression of all the emotions he’s feeling and burying. Emily doesn’t hate him for that but he knows she’s starting to feel overwhelmed by it. And given how successful his other attempts at pushing everyone else away has been, he might just owe her a little reprieve. To do this one thing without an entire battle.

“I’ll… I’ll be there.”

Dave smiles on the other side of the line, content with himself. “Thank you, Aaron. I will see you there, kiddo.”

It’s always the smartest people that fall for the simplest tricks.

Unlike Derek, Emily does feel bad about their plan. Logically, she’s very aware of how beneficial it’s going to be. If they don’t invite themselves over, Reid won’t ask anyone to come. Which means that he’s got to be getting his meals some other way. The thing is, if he were getting them delivered by a friend unknown to his team members, there should be something left over. Food in his fridge or trash in his garbage can. But there’s nothing.

Why does love have to be so difficult? How is it that some people understand it and others are stunningly unaware? Somehow wrapping their pretty little heads around this idea that they are undeserving or tricksters for having tricked someone into caring about them. If they didn’t love Reid would they feverishly watch over him? Did he really consider himself that sinister? That malicious? That he could trick profilers into loving him? Let it be clear, there is no trick. They are not so foolish and he not so unlovable.

“Derek, I think we might--”

Reid’s wobbly. He’s not yet mastered the crutches (at all). His practice comes only from the hospital and then his instructions had been brief before he was sent down the hall. A nurse just needing to see he could maneuver them and that they were at the right height. So, as bitter as he is to admit it, Derek’s lightly placed hand on the small of his back is very helpful.

Turning to see Emily, Reid lurches dangerous and Morgan moves quickly to stop him from falling. Just behind them, SUV pulled up onto Rossi’s lawn as close as she could pull it up, Emily is helping Hotch out of the car. Even from here, he can hear the lowered grumbling shared between the two. Despite being unable to see Hotch except for one brief moment, Reid’s glad to at least hear the other man. Him and Emily clipping rough comments back and forth. Bordering on rude but it’s between them and they’ve always let one another slide in these areas.

Vaguely he can piece together that they’re arguing about whether or not Morgan’s help is needed. “--wheelchair, that you made me leave-- I will take you back-- walker-- asshole!” Despite how angrily they nip back and forth, it’s all in what they don’t say. Hotch falls into Emily’s guiding step. Not even breaking from his own comment as her hand comes around his hips and effortlessly supports his weight as they take a step up. Neither taking the blow below the belt to note how Hotch’s words get cut off by a hardly contained whimper of pain or how choked his quick, distressed breathing becomes.

Morgan’s help is needed but Emily is too focused on keeping Hotch’s feet firmly planted on the ground and Hotch too worried about not busting his ass on the ice.

Reid jerks as Dave’s front door is thrown open. One hand on his hip, an apron over his chest, he shakes his head at the sight of the four of them. “I can hear you two arguing like children from in the house!” he shouts. He steps out onto the porch, tucking the towel in his hand into his pants. “Grown adults out here acting like children!” There is an unmistakable David Rossi laced fondness in his tone. That, despite his haste movements and dry frown, is taken as such because they know him. And he knows Hotch and Emily well enough to know this would happen.

“Get yourselves inside,” Rossi’s entire body changes when he sees Morgan and Reid. A simple passing hand down Morgan’s back for encouragement. “There’s root beer in the bottom drawer in the fridge, have Henry get you one!”

Reid smiles, suddenly excited for this afternoon. Root beer is… it’s the keystone of his childhood. There was not a matter he and his mother couldn’t handle with a little root beer. And while he doesn’t indulge himself often with that luxury (still some part of his brain fails to comprehend that he has the money to get it) Dave always has it. Hearing that Henry is here, implying Will and JJ too, he feels himself growing giddy. Pleased. He can’t wait to talk to them. For Will to hit his shoulder with his fist just a little too hard and to rustle his hair. JJ hovering and laughing. Henry. Smiling laughing.

Dave keeps going.

His frowning turning into a small while Hotch’s dark eyes find him, a glint of hope. “Our poor hero,” Dave greets in a half-jab at Hotch. He cups the younger man’s cheek, smiling at him. “I assume Emily has been her cruel and unusual self?” Once again, another jab. It’s a perfect balance. He neither takes Emily’s side (exhausted by Hotch’s antics) nor Hotch’s (exhausted by Emily’s antics).

They both scoff, at both implications.

“Hotch is being an asshole,” Emily grumbles, childishly sticking her tongue out at him. “Per his usual self.”

Hotch turns to Dave and returns, “to answer your question, yes she is.”

Wedged between Dave and Emily, Hotch makes it to the porch. Emily only hits him once. Once. He deserved it.

“Would you two behave?”

They get all of two steps in before JJ puts a stop to it. You see, no one ever listens to Dave. Not once has anyone ever listened to Hotch but JJ. No, to JJ, they always listen. And with a slow final few blows, Hotch and Emily stop bickering.

“Now,” JJ has flour on her chest. An honor which means Rossi has let her within his kitchen. “Go sit,” she points to the living room, stepping aside to let them through. “Behave yourselves or I’m not letting you eat until you hug and tell each other you love one another.” Her grandmother used to force that punishment on JJ and her sister as children. Cruel, she had thought then, but JJ has learned it to be very useful. As they pass, she hears them both grumble something about Hotch’s mostly liquid diet and how Emily doesn’t think that’s very fair. JJ throws her own towel at their heads. It’s well worth the shared smirk of mischief shared between Hotch and Emily.

Little deviants, she thinks with an eye roll. It’s Halloween so she lets it slide.

In the living room, Reid and Hotch are left while the others fight over one another in the kitchen. The clatter is heard through the whole house. Morgan making Garcia laugh, a barking sound that draws a smile from Reid. Joyous. Emily lightly teasing Rossi for what she teases is new greying in his hair. She asks if he’d like her to dye it for him the next time he gets his hair colored. Her triumphant laughter is just as freeing.

“Hotch?”

Beaten by the effort it took to walk all the way to the living room, Hotch had mostly succumbed to his placement on in the lazyboy. A chair, in which, he had never sat once in all the years he’d visited Dave’s. But the recliner is large and he can easily lean to support his side. Keeping an arm wrapped around his aching side. Without opening his eyes, head tilted back he hums. “Yeah?”

Reid’s knee is carefully surrounded by pillows. Even if it’s jostled, it’s fully supported in every direction. He’d been sitting here, watching Hotch’s face steadily grow blank. Masking his pain. He’d wanted to know if Hotch too had been tricked into coming. But then, as Morgan, followed closely by Garcia and the others, step in and Reid finds he doesn’t actually need to know. Hotch came, didn’t he? Left the safety of his dark apartment in favor of their boisterous company. Of little Henry in his Spiderman costume and Garcia and her own elaborate Harry Potter costume.

Derek hands Reid a plate, mostly finger foods a bit of pasta. His plate mirrors Henry’s. While the other’s all eat healthy amounts of pasta. Will sneaks him a napkin, which confuses him, until Will covers his hand over Reid’s and whispers “there are eight Oreos in this napkin”. Sweets, which JJ and Garcia had deprived him until he cleaned his plate. And when JJ caves, Reid’s stomach full of the carrots, crackers, and grapes his plate had primarily had (as well as those Oreos), and brings him a slice of pie and ice cream Will only shakes his head with a smirk.

Hotch manages a few spoonful's of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.

“You could eat something else,” Dave ventures, scowling. But Hotch’s body is very displeased and what little solid food he’d managed to eat in the last few days was having a tendency to come right back up. Abdominal trauma, the doctor’s kept informing them, often caused this. They just needed to wait it out.

“He’s got the palate of a toddler,” Emily mumbles but she means it fondly. She punctuates it by throwing a carrot at his head. He doesn’t have the dexterity to swat it out of the air so it hits his head and he just scowls at her.

Reid sides with Hotch. “Chicken noodle soup is the best soup,” he offers in Hotch’s defense. Blushing when Hotch just looks sadly at him, as if broken by the idea that Reid is the only person left to defend him.

“It is,” Garcia tries to add, helpfully. She smiles encouragingly to Hotch but once again he takes them siding with him poorly. If all the sympathy he can garner is from Reid and Garcia, he’s hopeless. He loves them dearly but they effortlessly take his side. “And you leave my boss man alone! If he wants to eat chicken noodle soup then you let him.”

Hotch hums to that, quirking an eyebrow at Garcia, and looking down at Emily. Of all the places for her to sit, she’d chosen the floor. With a whole floor to choose from, she still sat down right at his feet. Resting her back against his shins. Which he didn’t mind but he knew she’d done it just to annoy him.

Henry grows tired of his adult company and with the sun falling, he knows what’s coming. Even at three, he’s aware of what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Go on,” Hotch encourages. He knows they’re only holding back for two reasons: Reid and him. But Henry shouldn’t suffer just because he managed to piss off the one Unsub brave enough to attack him and Reid unfortunate enough to get shot. “We won’t go anywhere. I’ll put on Doctor Who,” he bargains. “Reid won’t go anywhere.” But it’s not really Reid they’re worried about. “I’ll take a nap,” he offers. Which is what his body needs but he’s not so sure he’ll actually commit to that.

“Don’t move.” Emily orders.

“I’ll make sure he stays put,” Reid says, with a nod. But given how stupid they both are, Emily loves the commitment but doesn’t take the offer too seriously. Hotch with a blanket tucked over his legs and Reid happily humming away to the Doctor Who theme song, they’re left to the silence of Dave’s house. The others out taking Henry around the block for some trick or treating.

Hotch does take that nap and Reid contently gets sucked into Doctor Who. Content in ways they both thought were only possible locked away in their own misery.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #will lamontagne #david rossi #henry jareau

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rainydayhogwartsimagines · 4 years

Text

What dating Draco is like as a Hufflepuff:

You were actually supposed to go to ilvermorny.

But do to your parents' jobs (both of them are Archeologists, though your mother was actually a wizard) you moved to England.

You were actually quite pissed off with this arrangement too.

You complained for a good portion of the summer that you didn't know anybody in England

At least in the US you knew a few wizards in Ilvermorny. Here you knew no one.

Your parents made a deal with you, if you didn't like your first year here at all they'd see if they could move back home.

So you agreed.

You were so stubborn the whole time (it's really a wonder you weren't Slytherin because of how hilariously stubborn you were)

You wanted to do this ALLLL on your own

Did it stop your parents from following you and correcting your direction when you went the wrong way?

No. No it didn't.

You hugged them goodbye before running through the wall.

You ended up alone in a cart, bored out your mind.

You caught this glimpse of a blonde boy though that caught your eye.

His hair was slacked back and the first thought that came to your mind was literally "How big of a douche is this kid going to be"

Well that answer came quickly.

When you ended up on a boat with Neville you were very sweet to him, hearing that he lost his toad Trevor.

When you all ended up in the castle and he found him you smiled.

And then you started hearing teasing from Draco about a Ron Weasley.

And then a insult directed towards a muggleborn.

To which you stood up for them

Because your parents were muggles too and quite frankly it pissed you off.

He sneered at you and you just rolled your eyes, as he made some comment about you being a "Bloody American."

This is going to be a common theme with you.

Cedric was there for the whole thing by the way.

Instantly he knew "Oh. Oh they're a Hufflepuff."

He was right.

You ended up sitting next to him and he was excited to have you

The house was very welcoming and they all were very sweet.

You were happy to be in that one to be honest.

Though when you found out that Hufflepuff's common room was near Slytherin's you wanted to pound your head on the table.

You and Cedric became close, he was like a kind older brother to you.

You weren't bad at your studies either

You really excelled at potions

However the dark arts teacher unsettled you

You couldn't figure out why

He was such an anxious man, but something told you that was a facade.

Then came halloween.

And there was a troll in the dungeon.

Cedric told you to remain calm.

And both of you did!

Until the realization hit you that the common room was in the dungeon.

Albus ended up sticking the Hufflepuff's and Slytherin's with Ravenclaw.

Why they didn't get put with Gryffindor, you didn't know but God you hated this arrangement.

You were fine with being with Ravenclaw though

It's how you met your friend Lindsey

She noticed you looked tense and offered you a book.

You took it and the rest was history

Eventually you were able to go back and my God you were relieved.

After Halloween everyone was ready for Christmas.

Your parents ended up being to busy to bring you home for the holidays

And they felt SO guilty about that, they kept mailing you books

You were fine with it though, by that point you actually liked hogwarts

You spent most of your time reading but ended up hanging out with Ron and Harry.

All it took was one letter to Molly and she already made you a sweater.

So Christmas morning came and you were basically the only student there in Hufflepuff.

Professor Sprout made you some hot cocoa and actually gifted you stationary because she heard you mention you needed more

She made the boys hot cocoa too and Ron and Harry were grateful.

That's when you got the sweater and you were smiling wide when you got it.

You wore it any time you got cold

Which of course got some fun remarks from Draco.

You didn't care though.

At the end of the year you decided you wanted to stay.

Though your parents were acting very odd when you came home, very secretive but arguing all the time about what you didn't know

Second year started and you were glad because it was becoming too hectic at home

But a new problem arose.

Now someone was targeting muggleborns and half bloods.

Cedric was very worried about you

After all, you were in that crowd to be potentially hurt

Draco kept making remarks though and eventually it led to you snapping at him rather loudly

He gritted his teeth as both of you ended up in detention

But then Harry messed up too.

By also including some... Fun remarks to Draco

And he was squished in that classroom with you.

Draco just complained the whole time but you just kept to your book, lending Harry one so he didn't have to listen to his constant whining.

Things kept getting tense though when someone in hufflepuff was petrified

Cedric's anxiety for you went through the roof

Especially when yet again, your parents were too busy to take you home.

You assured him you'd be fine.

He was still concerned though.

Christmas morning came and you spent it again with Ron, Harry and now Hermione.

You sat in the great hall when you noticed this time that Draco was here. He was alone too.

You may have wanted to punch the boy but no one deserved to be alone on Christmas.

So you picked up your book and asked if you could sit there.

He scowled at you and told you "There are literally three other empty tables."

And you responded with "Yes. And I want to sit here. Can I?"

He reluctantly said yes.

You read in silence for a while and then said "Merry Christmas Draco."

And then he was really caught off guard.

Not very many people called him by his name.

After a long silence he finally said "Merry Christmas to you too Y/n."

After that insults became more banter to the two of you.

You even caught him smiling a few times.

Summer rolled around and Ron's family offered to have you stay with them

To which you gratefully accepted. Because things were just getting worse at home

You finally had an answer to what your parents were keeping from you.

You were related to a very very bad wizard.

Grindlewald. To be exact.

When school finally started you decided to find Draco, who was alone in a cart reading.

When you saw him your heart almost beat out of your chest.

His hair changed and he was more... Attractive.

Course you changed to him too which led to a couple of glances.

He asked you about your summer and you mentioned staying with Ron's family.

He grimaced and you frowned.

"his family isn't bad Malfoy. In fact they were really nice." You sighed.

Draco could sense that you didn't like him talking about them like that so to your surprise...

He stopped.

Though he was confused why you didn't just stay with your family.

You told him about your situation and he was confused.

"you're related to someone 'very evil'? Why does that bother you?" He asked.

You chose not to answer that.

And that bothered him.

Truth be told you were terrified of yourself.

What if one day you hurt someone like that?

What if you did something equally evil or worse?

Then came the lesson on Boggarts.

And you were laughing for a good portion of it

Until it got to you.

And that boggart sure enough turned into Grindlewald

Which led to Remus helping you

But it was too late, you were already running out of the classroom.

He of course told Draco to go after you and he did.

You were a crying mess, sitting in the astronomy tower.

He hated seeing you cry, my God it tore his heart up.

He could put two and two together and knew now that you were related to Grindelwald.

News got out rather quickly what your boggart was

But for some reason Slytherin wasn't talking.

Apparently some student snapped at them if they tried.

Draco. It was Draco.

Cedric was worried about you though, you were still very much affected by it.

Professor Remus was helpful though, always allowing you to sit and read in his classroom if you didn't want to deal with the rumors.

Hogsmeade was a very fun trip, laughing and spending time with Cedric, Fred and George.

Fred and George found you refreshing.

You somehow could tell the difference between the two.

They all knew immediately though you had a crush on Draco when you shivered in front of him and he immediately gave you his scarf.

Mint... It smelled like mint.

You couldn't stop smiling the rest of the day and Draco really enjoyed seeing you happy.

Cedric didn't necessarily like that your crush was Draco considering the speculation around his family. But if you were happy that's what mattered.

You discovered a talent for magical creatures that year after buckbeak almost attacked Draco

You warned him not to piss off buckbeak but he didn't listen.

You jumped between the two before Hagrid could intervene and you calmed it quickly.

It mesmerized people to be honest, seeing you block any view from Draco to buckbeak and then calmly put a hand on his beak.

Hagrid immediately knew you'd be a fantastic student.

You helped Draco back up, noticing the bruise on his arm from falling on a rock.

That's when all hell broke loose over buckbeak

When Lucius heard about an injury due to him he decided to kill the poor creature.

You tried to convince Draco to tell his father not to do it and believe me, he tried.

Lucius was not having that shit though.

That's also when you ended up apart of whatever the hell Harry, Hermione and Ron were doing.

Time turners and then discovering that Buckbeak was alive.

You were relieved

But then also quite frightened to learn the truth about your favorite professor not only being a werewolf but also that he was hiding Sirius.

You were shocked to learn the truth, as were all of them.

Especially when Ron's rat was actually Peter Pettigrew

You kept everything a secret and Remus grew quite fond of you as almost a daughter.

You were sad to hear he wouldn't be back at hogwarts next year.

Then came another summer

Draco sent a letter to his parents beforehand though asking for the possibility of you spending the summer with them

Lucius reluctantly agreed, telling him that you'd be staying there for only a portion of the summer though

Draco told you this and you basically said "Alright, fuck it. Why not?"

You found yourself reading the entire time there

It was so... Peaceful and quiet.

You actually did have a sense of decorum and would curtsey everytime time you saw Lucius

It shocked Draco to see you switch from a goofball to someone who was indeed elegant.

It made him fall.

Hard.

After seeing you a few times walking the halls with your face in a book Lucius was curious and asked what you were reading.

You told him "Pride and Prejudice." And he was curious to know what it was.

Considering it wasn't your first time reading this, you lended it to him

And to everyone's surprise the man actually read it.

And enjoyed it

There were a few times you lended him other books too and he actually enjoyed them too.

To be frank: I think he was a little disappointed you weren't in Slytherin.

But Narcissa loved you.

You'd sit in the living room with her, again reading but it'd look straight out of a painting.

Narcissa would be writing letters or in a journal sipping tea and you'd be across from her reading.

What was supposed to be "A few weeks and nothing more" ended up being the whole summer.

Draco loved seeing you get along with his parents

And you didn't mind them.

Though you weren't stupid you recognized something was off with them.

Then came that world quidditch game.

Harry was very much alarmed to see you with the Malfoy's.

You agreed to meet up with him after the game

Draco loved seeing your face when you watched the game though, your eyes bright and a wide smile.

After it was finished you told them you agreed to see a friend and they excused you.

You found the Weasley tent and Harry was very confused, along with Ron.

"What in the hell are you doing with him?" Harry asked.

"I've been with him over the summer." You explained.

You told them everything and they reluctantly agreed to remain as civil as possible with him.

That's when you heard screaming

And Arthur telling you to run.

You all bolted seeing death eaters everywhere.

You came face to face with one that was a little too close for comfort, especially when it seemed that they were ready to attack you.

That's when Draco found you and you both BOOKED IT.

You sat in your room that night freaking out.

"Draco what the fuck was that?" You asked.

He knew exactly what that was. But he couldn't tell you. Which killed him to lie.

Eventually you all went back to school, rumors that there was a big change this year.

There was a lot of talks about a "Yule ball"

That's when the goblet of fire was introduced.

Cedric was excited to enter and you were excited for him

Then there was the other VERY noticeable change

Mad eye Moody.

He was curious.

You were there when the names came out of the goblet

Victor Krum

Fleur delacour

And Cedric!

You were happy for him!

And then another name came out and everyone was both silent and confused.

Harry Potter.

Something told you that something was wrong with this competition.

Very wrong.

Draco was trying to enjoy the competition. Really he was

But a certain hufflepuff was so distracting

And being put in constant danger

For some reason you were in this scholarship like situation with Hagrid, taking care of Magical creatures

Which included those damn dragons.

So when you had to go out onto the field yourself and soothe one, Draco nearly had a heart attack.

Again, watching you with this creature was memorizing.

It calmed down almost immediately and you returned to your place in the stands making everyone shocked.

Course Draco was going insane from the amount of safety precautions that weren't taken.

It didn't help that you were needed for some challenge for Cedric.

You ended up chained and underwater

Which Draco didn't know yet.

All he knew is that when he asked Lindsey where you were she said you were needed for this and you disappeared.

Instantly dread hit the poor boy.

When Cedric came up out of the water with you, you basically told the staff to bite your ass if they needed you for another challenge.

Lucky for you, they knew you. And they also knew that you had some colorful ways of... Expressing your feelings.

You were freezing but the second you recognized that a child was down there and Fleur was empty handed you actually went back into the water yourself.

To everyone's surprise, you came back up with Harry, Ron and Gabrielle.

According to Harry you just went for it and grabbed her.

Draco was now head over heels because of your selfless act.

It didn't help when the Yule ball was approaching you two ended up being dance partners.

Both of you were very good at it to be honest.

Mcgonagall could see the love in that boy's eyes though.

Then you and him had a meeting spot now in the astronomy tower.

Both of you had free periods and would meet up and just enjoy the other's company.

You said some joke making him laugh.

He saw you smile and he just asked you "Would you like to go to the yule with me?"

And you of course said yes

And my god you were beautiful that night.

People kept teasing Draco about being there alone

But everyone fell dead silent when Cedric helped you down the stairs

You were anxious about walking down the stairs in heels so Cedric of course said he'd help.

Cho was smiling saying you looked gorgeous and you thanked her saying she looked great too.

This post is too long and has to be separated into two parts.

#draco x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter

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averyonelovesjack · 3 years

Text

cost of friendship III ~ daniel seavey

requested: yes

hiii can we please please please have another part to parties and the cost of friendship? love love love your writing!

hey hon just requesting a third part to 'cost of friendship' with dani whenever you have the time, thanks love

Hey! I hope things are going okay! I was reading your imagines and I'm a big fan of your works! I was just wondering if you were going to post a part 3 to "cost of friendship"? Just curious :) I understand if you discontinued it/you're on a break.

summary: six months into the relationship and just in time for the holidays, daniel and y/n recognize the difficulty in spending the holidays away from each other and have to determine if it’s worth breaking the secret.

warning(s): cursing

disclaimer: i use christmas and thanksgiving as plot points in this story because it fit better with the way i wanted the story to go, but feel free to replace them with any other holidays you celebrate!!

word count: 2740

author’s note: accidentally posted this, unedited, last night with no word count and the author’s note that i wrote in december of last year when i originally made the draft and didn’t write a single word of this story:) so now that it actually makes sense to post this, here is part three to cost of friendship! thanks for all these requests even tho they were clearly from a long time ago since cost of friendship II came out TWO YEARS AGO in september. welp hope this was worth the wait lol enjoy:))

read these first: part one, part two

six months with daniel went by really quickly. the summer was honestly a lot of fun. i could spent hours at the boys’ house and nothing was suspicious about it. i grew a lot closer with them all because we spent so much time together, and it wasn’t weird for me to hang out there, and i could see daniel whenever i wanted. we really got to know each other during the summer months. i had known daniel for a while now, but getting to know him on a relationship level was really nice.

summer ended pretty quickly though and then fall came. i was back in school. i didn’t think it would be hard to see him since i was still in the ending months of school when we started dating. i think that going from so much time together over the summer to only seeing each other a few hours a week was a really hard adjustment.

we promised we’d never let our schedules be a problem, but managing a full time student’s schedule and a singer’s schedule is really difficult. i had classes monday through friday, and any time i wasn’t in class, i was doing homework. that left my only free time during the week to be late at night. so we hung out late at night, but by the time we saw each other we were usually too exhausted to really do anything other than lay around and watch a show or talk for a little bit. weekends were usually better for me, but daniel had a crazy schedule that usually had studio time incorporated on the weekend.

we still made effort to see each other all the time we could, but it wasn’t easy. i think that probably plays into my current nerves. it’s early november and the stress of the holiday season had already gotten to me.

as a kid, the holiday season was the absolute best. thanksgiving meant seeing all of my family, including my cousins who were really close in age to me. and then the stretch between thanksgiving and christmas was my absolute favorite. it was filled with christmas music, christmas decorations, buying gifts, giving gifts, getting gifts, and again, seeing family. and don’t even get me started on new years. as a kid, staying up late was the absolute best thing. the sparking cider and noise makers were all the rave.

as a much older college student now though, it was a lot less fun. the holiday season meant figuring out plans and traveling home to see my family and not knowing which part of my family was actually gonna be available. it meant buying actual meaningful or useful gifts and then figuring out how to get them home. there was still the music and the lights, but i had no time to meaninglessly drive around los angeles and see the lights or spend hours around a fireplace watching christmas movies. i didn’t even have a fireplace to begin with.

the holiday season was also much more confusing this year because i had daniel. i’ve never even had a boyfriend during the holiday season, let alone a secret boyfriend. most of the things we went out and did we could pass off as just things we’re doing as close friends, but the holidays were different. friends don’t ditch the holidays with their family just to hang out with their friends family. i don’t even know if daniel and i are at the level in our relationship, and then even if we were, i couldn’t do anything about it because keeping our relationship a secret meant not being able to do the explicitly for couples holiday stuff.

as much as i think daniel and i are ready for the family stage in our relationship, neither of us have really talked about it because there’s not really much room to do it anyways. i’ve met daniel’s siblings and parents before, but never as anything more than a friend because it was too risky to tell anyone. and daniel’s never had an excuse to come meet my family since they aren’t just down the road like his.

the secret relationship really damaged my normal holiday mood and it honestly stressed me out. i have to book my plane home soon and to do that meant that there really was no chance that i’d spend the holidays with daniel. even with us only being together half a year, daniel meant so much to me. in every other relationship i’d been in, it felt like i was waiting for the relationship to end or i at least knew that it wasn’t going to last. it was different with daniel though and that was really hard since we couldn’t even tell anyone about it.

tonight is a friday and i had finally finished my work for the week. i was invited to a party, but i didn’t really feel like going since i was pretty tired from the week and i wasn’t in a party mood. daniel texted me soon after and asked if i wanted to come over. i wasn’t really in a socialization mood, but since it was just daniel and i haven’t seen him much recently, i said yes. he even said he would pick me up which made it ten times easier to say yes because he knows i don’t like taking ubers alone and i don’t have access to a car.

daniel picked me up at about 7. i didn’t feel like getting ready so i just wore my grey sweatpants and wdw tee that daniel had gotten me for free. daniel never seemed to mind my lazy outfits and i knew as soon as we got back he would change out of his jeans too.

“hi love, how was your day?” daniel asks as soon as i get in the car. i felt a little emotionally exhausted, but so happy to see daniel. the car was like our safe space because no one was around to walk in on us and we didn’t have to hide our feelings and actions.

“exhausting, but better now that i’m seeing you.” i admit.

“at least it’s the weekend now.” daniel says. “and i went to the studio a little early today so that we won’t have to go in this weekend and i can spend more time with you.”

“really?” i ask, that news brightening my day a little. “i was just about to ask how studio was today?”

“it was good. we worked on a new christmas song today when we were finished. i don’t know if we’ll ever release it but it was a lot of fun. i’m sure you’d love it.”

“you know how i feel about christmas music.” i grin. maybe a little daniel written christmas music will brighten my spirit in these next coming weeks.

“speaking of, i feel like you haven’t played any christmas music. i swear i barely knew you this time last year as compared to now but i knew how much you loved christmas music. i feel like you played it as soon as halloween was over.” daniel mentions and as much as i wanted to hold it back and not say anything, i felt too tired to not.

“i haven’t really been in the christmas spirit.” i admit with a sigh that i knew daniel would read through.

“i know the holiday season is hard. it’s been on my mind a lot too and i was hoping it wasn’t adding to your stress, but i should’ve said something sooner because i knew it would.” daniel says, looking over and gently ok in a hand on mine.

“it’s okay.” i say. “i probably wouldn’t have even admitted it until we got to a night like tonight where i’m honestly too tired to pretend i’m not stressed.”

“i’m sorry, love. do you want to talk about it?” daniel asks.

“it’s okay, i don’t even know what to say because we can’t even do anything about it.” i answer. “and i don’t want to stress you out with all of my little annoyances and sad things.”

“i know that the last few months haven’t been easy.” daniel starts, deciding for us both that nothing i could say would be too much for us. “with our schedules and then keeping it a secret.”

“it’s just-” i don’t even know where to start because i know when i’ll do i’ll either inevitably cry out of stress or sound angry with him when i’m not, i’m just annoyed at our situation. “it really sucks that i can’t spend any of the holidays with you and i fucking hate that because i love the holiday season and the spirit and i’m avoiding it because i don’t want to feel sad about us not being together for the holidays. and i love you. i love you so much and i want you to meet my family because i know they’ll love you, but it would be way too obvious for you to fly home with me for the holidays and there’s really no hiding that so i know it makes no sense to even think about that because it just makes me sad.”

“i love you too, y/n.” daniel says, still processing everything. “i didn’t know you wanted me to meet your family yet. i would love to, but i didn’t want to bring it up until you were ready.”

“are you kidding?” i laugh a little bit, looking over at him as he parked the car in the driveway but neither of us moved. “daniel, of course i want you to meet my family. i know they’ll love you because you’re you. god, ever since i told my sisters i have a boyfriend they’ve been begging me to tell them who so that they could meet you. i don’t know, the holidays have always just been about being with family for my family, and i’m sure yours too. you’re such an important part of my life now and i wish i could share you with them. it’s whatever, though. we shouldn’t talk about it because i know that it’s not possible.”

“what about thanksgiving with my family and christmas with yours?” daniel says and my heart skips a beat. “and then we can figure out new years later. i know you have to go home for christmas because you’ll get kicked out of dorms, and as much as i would love for you to just stay with us, i’m sure you want to go home and see your family.”

“daniel, as lovely as that sounds, you know how suspicious it would be for me to stay here for thanksgiving and for you to fly home with me? i don’t think even we would be able to keep that a secret.”

“fuck the secret, then, y/n.” he blurts out. “y/n, i don’t see us ending ever, and definitely not anytime soon and it’s not like we’re gonna keep this a secret forever. fuck the secret. corbyn was right, okay, the boys are gonna be happy for us. it’s not like they haven’t picked up on us being close these last few months and keeping this secret isn’t worth us being apart for the next few months, okay? it’s hard enough to spend only a few hours together a week, i don’t want to be away from you for all of thanksgiving and christmas too.”

“fuck the secret.” i say, with a smile forming on my face. “are we really doing this?”

“i see no better time than now, y/n.” daniel leans over the console to kiss my lips softly. “wanna go tell the boys now?”

“let’s do it.” i unbuckle my seatbelt with a weight lifted off of my shoulders. daniel and i meet in front of the car, our hands interlocking as we walked into the house as a non-secret couple for the first time.

the boys were all sitting in the living room and a movie was playing with all of the lights out. they all look over as daniel closes the door and the two of us walk over to them.

“y/n? what are you doing here? daniel didn’t tell us he was bringing you over.” zach says. “of course he just wants to hog you again.”

“do you guys wanna pause the movie for a second? we have some important news.” daniel says and we separate hands as to not give it away just yet.

“fucking finally.” jonah says.

“what?” i ask, wondering what he meant.

“i mean, i don’t want to be the one to say it and ruin it for you two, but i mean, come on, we’ve been waiting months for you to admit to it. so get on with it.” jonah gestures for us to continue. guess we weren’t as great secret keepers as we thought.

“y/n and i have been dating for about six months and kept it a secret from everyone.” daniel says and then takes my hand in his and pulls me closer so that i’m in his arms.

“SIX.” zach yells. “i knew there were vibes between you two but you guys are good. six months??”

“not that good.” corbyn mumbles, which causes the other three to look at him.

“you bitch!” jack then exclaims. “you knew? and you didn’t give me my damn money??”

“it’s their fault, they told me not to say anything!” corbyn defends, pointing a finger at the two of us. “i was not supposed to find out. i wish i didn’t, this was a lot of stress i didn’t need.”

“i would like my twenty bucks now, thank you very much.” jack says and corbyn quickly throws a twenty dollar bill at him.

“this is so unfair.” the ninteen year old looks at the rest of us. “jack gets twenty bucks, corbyn gets stress relief, daniel gets a girlfriend and it’s y/n. what do i get? i want something!”

“zach, i didn’t get anything from this either.” jonah reminds.

“shut up. you have a girlfriend.” zach screeches in his jokingly angry voice. “god, i’m so lonely.”

“i have a couple sisters, if you want.” i laugh a little. “you’d have to come home for christmas with danny and i, though.”

“and you’re leaving us for christmas? gosh damnit y/n, why can’t you guys stay with me for christmas?” zach exclaims, which makes us all laugh a little bit. i wasn’t sure how everyone was going to react, but this was a pretty funny one from zach.

“i hate to break it to you bud, but we’re, uh, all going home for christmas. we do every year.” jack sets a hand on his bandmates shoulder. “i’m pretty sure y/n would rather spend christmas with her boyfriend and her family than you, no offense.”

“what the fuck, y/n. you don’t wanna spend christmas with me?”

i’m laughing too much at this interaction to answer before jack.

“to be clear though, zach, i would choose to spend christmas with you.”

“well we have y/n for thanksgiving. we’re gonna see my family, so we’ll still be in la and can hang out. have our own little friendsgiving.” daniel suggests.

“no no no, i’m too lonely for friendsgiving.” zach expresses, deciding to be unhappy with everything we say just for the comedy of it. “i’m too single. you’re all in relationships, i can’t be the only lonely one.”

“um, bro, i too am single.” jack looks at him funny.

“okay, well yeah, but you have a child.”

“yes, a child who lives in hawaii. i’ll be your friendsgiving date.” jack offers.

“really? you meant it?” zach faked being emotional and jonah looks at them, then back at us with a funny look.

“well, now that we’ve dealt with... that, i just want to say we’re all really happy for you two.” jonah starts. “not that this is surprising to any of us, because there has been way too much sexual tension since we’ve all been friends for this to not have happened, but i’m very happy you decided to tell us.”

“are you guys gonna go public? like tell management?” corbyn asks.

daniel then looks at me a little nervously and then back at the guys, “yeah that’s the next thing we have to figure out.”

lovely.

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skelebonecentral · 3 years

Text

Hothouse Rose chapter 6

Gotta get that last Fell boy into shape!

(words under cut) And remember, the pictures for the Lust boys are all six up on my main undertale blog.

Whip stared at his brother.

“AND TELL ME AGAIN WHY YOU’RE IN MY ROOM, GLARING LIKE I MELTED YOUR WHOLE SHOP?”

“cause ya ain’t actin’ like part of the family anymore and I wanna know why.” Spice was leaning back against Whip’s door, blocking all exit. “ever since baby doll came, you’ve been sulkin’ and hidin’ from’em and I don’t appreciate it. I know ya ain’t a coward, so what is it?”

Whip’s skull began to color in anger, standing to his full height, “BECAUSE THAT HUMAN IS NOT GOING TO LAST. I’VE SEEN THE HUMANS AROUND HERE, AND NONE OF THEM WOULD ACCEPT US IF THEY KNEW THE FULL EXTENT OF WHO AND WHAT WE ARE. THEIR URGES ARE TAMPED DOWN WITH IRON RODS AND CLOSED OFF EXCEPT FOR THE MOST TABOO AND PRIVATE MOMENTS. OR IN OPEN DISPLAYS IN THE SEEDY UNDERBELLY OF THEIR WORLD AND THOSE WHO PARTICIPATE OFTEN END UP DEAD.”

“I know that.” Spice was unmoved by this aggressive display. He was not afraid of his baby brother. “I’ve done my research on what gettin’ my shop going up here would entail, an’ it wasn’t pretty. but bro, just cause it’s private for them don’t mean they ain’t capable of openin’ up. just gotta work harder for it.”

Whip’s hands were gripped into fists, and even though he was looking down, Spice noticed his gaze was on the floor next to him, not on himself, “AND WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ONE OF THOSE FRIVOLOUS OTHERS FALLS FOR THEM? OR GETS THE INTEREST FOR A ROMP, HM? WHAT THEN?”

“apparently that already happened today. Boa. Baby doll got embarrassed but they’re still pals.”

Whip flinched hearing that, his glare getting more intense, “SO YOU’RE SAYING THEY AREN’T GOING TO TURN ON US? THAT I’M BEING RIDICULOUS?”

“no, I’m sayin’ you don’t need to try an’ protect yourself so hard.” Spice sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, “bro, you usually aren’t closed off like this with people you don’t trust. You’re good at making them think you like’em so they slip up. why are ya actin’ like a frightened cat? All puffed up and angry?”

Whip’s sockets were filling with red magic, “BECAUSE AT LEAST IF I KEEP THEM AWAY IT WON’T HURT HAVING TO LEAVE.”

“there’s the issue,” Spice walked over to where Whip was shaking in place, quickly putting his arms around him, “ya do like ‘em, then?”

“YES.” The answer was wet and miserable, “THEY’RE EVERYTHING PAPYRUS SAID, AND EVEN WITH SUGAR BEING CAUTIOUS, I CAN’T FIND A REASON NOT TO. SANS…” Whip slowly collapsed to his knees and held Spice tight, “I’ve…I’ve never been so close to someone who actually met my standards. They’re kind, and they care about our alternates, and they’re smart, and funny and beautiful and…Sans, I’m so scared to let myself go because we’re going to lose them.”

Spice rubbed his back gently, “I know, bro. but that’s why we gotta try an’ enjoy it, right? when we’re back in that shithole, we gotta have memories to get us through. Cause what good is it pushin’ away good things just cause they won’t last? Just means you spend more time bein’ sad than ya had ta.”

“I don’t know if my soul can take it, though,” Whip whined, hiding his sockets against Spice’s shoulder. “You know how lonesome it was at home and finding someone like y/n here…it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I found an angel and have to give them up.”

“y’know I understand that, probably better than most,” Spice gave his back a pat, making him let loose so he could sit down, “bro, I get it, but like I said, enjoy it while we can. cause once it’s gone, we ain’t gettin’ another chance.”

Whip sat next to him on the bed and leaned over, head on his shoulder, “You’re right, as usual, brother. I just…I’m used to causing pain, not feeling it. It’s difficult to manage.”

“yeah. but you can do it. I know ya can. cause I’ll be right with ya the whole time.”

After a while, just the slow hum of Whip’s computer and the breeze outside, Whip asked, “What did it feel like when you got to hold them, Sans?”

“real nice,” Spice purred a bit, “their whole body is soft, bro. hair, skin, hands, all pillows. Ehehe, they’d be mad if I said that to’em, though. they’re workin’ with their buddies and pap to get in shape. Spend half an hour outside every afternoon with’em in their leggings and sport top. Nice ta watch.”

Whip nodded, “And do they mind flirtations too much?”

“they’re gettin’ better about it, but you still have ta be careful how far ya go. don’t get all out explicit, but suggestive is fine. They actually shot one back at Sugar yesterday, even if it was kinda weak.”

“Good.” He took a deep breath and sighed as he let it out, “I’m going to try to amend my mistake of avoiding them, but it’ll take some time. Please keep me from making an ass of myself anymore.”

“I’ll try, but I dunno much about donkeys,” Spice quipped, only to get pushed onto the bed as Whip got up in irritation. “ehehehe, sorry, bro, but you walked inta that one.”

“I DID AND I HATE IT.”

You were in the kitchen, eating breakfast after waking up late on a rare Friday holiday when Whip walked in. Normally, he’d instantly walk back out looking frustrated, but today he stayed.

It was weird, and you watched as he walked to the fridge, got a bottle of a chocolate protein drink, and sat down near you.

“HUMAN, I….HMGH,” he started, picking at the wrapper on the outside of his drink till he could get the lit loose, “Y/N. I’VE BEEN…COLD TO YOU, TO SAY THE LEAST.”

“Yes.” Where is he going with this?

“I THOUGHT…WELL, I SHOULD EXPLAIN WHY. OR AT LEAST APOLOGIZE FOR IT.” He grimaced while he searched for the words, “I SIMPLY WAS AFRAID OF GETTING HURT WHEN OR IF WE SHOULD EVER PART WAYS. BECAUSE I HONESTLY…I’VE WANTED TO MEET SOMEONE LIKE YOU FOR A VERY LONG TIME AND IT MADE ME FEEL PANICKED. LIKE…FINALLY GETTING TO MEET YOUR FAVORITE CELEBRITY BUT AS YOU NEAR THE STAGE DOOR YOU BOLT. YOU’RE AFRAID THE REALITY WON’T LIVE UP TO THE DREAM AND IF IT DOES THEN YOU FEAR THE PAIN OF THE MEETING BEING OVER.”

That was not what you expected as his reasoning. Pride, specist thoughts, a general dislike of new people, something like that, but not…this. “I do understand your reference, but I’m still kind of shocked you’re even talking to me at all right now.”

“I UNDERSTAND.” He sighed, taking a long drink from his bottle. “I JUST WANTED TO…WELL, TO TRY AND FIX THINGS. I HAD TO ADMIT WHAT I WAS THINKING TO MY BROTHER AND THAT FINALLY GOT ME THINKING ABOUT…HOW UNFAIR IT WAS TO BE ANGRY WITH YOU FOR BEING YOURSELF. I HAD NO RIGHT, AND IT’S KIND OF STUPID NOW THAT I PUT IT IN WORDS. GOOD GRIEF.”

“How about,” you hold out your hand, smiling, “we start over? Hi, my name is Y/n. I’m Sans and Papyrus’ datemate and I’d like to stay in the house for the foreseeable future.”

He looked at your hand, then his shoulders relaxed and his sharp smile turned soft, “MY NAME IS WHIP, IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU AT LAST.” He shook your hand, “I’D BE HAPPY TO HAVE SOMEONE SO BELOVED BY MY COUSINS STAY WITH US.”

A pool of warmth dropped into your chest at the relief you knew was a mutual experience. You no longer had an enemy in your home, and the comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your respective sustenance was very rewarding.

“Sugar, please,” Charm rubbed his sockets, “I’m trying to plan a fun night out for us all, and your pessimism is ruining it.”

“no, I’m seriously worried. Have you not felt the energy change? Somebody’s doing something and it’s none of us.”

“I felt it and I know exactly what happened, but I’m not telling you because it’s none of your business.” Charm kept clicking from one page to another, looking at options.

“what?”

“You heard me. You do realize there is a loving trio in this house, yes? That it’s not just us and the others from similar universes?” Charm swiveled his chair and looked fully at his brother, “Sans, sometimes your anxiety makes you act like a prick.”

Sugar winced, deflating. “oh. yeah. guess I overstepped again.”

“Yes, you did.” Charm pushed his chair over and poked Sugar in the chest, “but I will remind you again. I love you. I want what is best for everyone here. And I am not some babybones who is naïve about the complexities of relationships. It’s just things are tilted differently here, and yes, that was hard to get used to, but it can be done. And besides,” He smiled, “We’re all going out for Halloween. I need to make sure we go somewhere fun since it’s Y/n’s favorite holiday and Papyrus’ birthday.”

Sugar sighed, “okay. okay, maybe you’re right. and sansy’s been trying to get me to lighten up too, so…” He sat on the floor before laying out like a star, “if sweet-pea can trust them enough to cuddle again, I guess I can try to, too.”

“Bully for you!” Charm smiled, going back to his computer. “And Sweet-pea will be here at the house with our candy bowl, so he will get a costume as well.”

“he’s actually going to greet the trick or treaters?”

“Yes! He’s been doing very well since he started opening up more.” Charm double clicked something and absently scanned the text that popped up, “He’s started sitting on the deck with us while we do our yoga and Sansy is seeing if he can set up video chat conferences with a therapist for him. Apparently, humans get this kind of anxiety too. It’s called agoraphobia.”

Sugar nodded, kind of surprised. Sweet-pea was going outside? Willingly? That was definitely a good thing, no arguing that, and…well, he was getting tired of being jumpy about the human all the time, if he was being honest.

You were a little shy about it, but Boa and Sweet-pea were both bustling around you in Sweet-pea’s room. They were re-taking your measurements to make sure they were accurate for your costume. You hadn’t had a good idea for a costume, but Papyrus had proposed it being a surprise that they chose for you. Sweet-pea had volunteered to make the design, and you’d been excited to see what he’d do. So far, he’d made you a nightgown that made you feel very ethereal any time you wore it, but he’d been too busy with commissions and orders to do anything else till now.

“I take a break every October,” he told you, sketching away, “it lets me have down time to recover and do whatever things I’d like otherwise.”

Boa was very fast with the measuring tape, barely touching it to your body as you stood in a shirt and shorts.

You felt the goosebumps going over your scalp as they worked, just like at the doctor’s office, and felt that strange far away feeling that went with them.

“Pumpkin,” Boa spoke, standing with his tape, “have you ever been fitted properly for your foundations?” He seemed puzzled as he looked you over. “I just want to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. Bad support can cause back pain, you know.”

You hadn’t known. “No, I haven’t. What would you have to do?”

Sweet-pea looked up, “just measure around your chest do some more close measurements of your pelvis area. It doesn’t take long. Last time he fitted someone it only took him two and a half minutes. But…uh… you will have to undress. Dunno if you’re up to that or not.”

Boa blushed, but nodded, looking away. “It’s up to you. You’re going to look ravishing either way, but it’s just been bugging me since we went shopping that first day. You deserve to be comfortable…”

It took a moment, as you thought it out. Two and a half minutes, hm? And you trusted them both, at least as much as you trusted the classmates you’d changed in the bathrooms with at choir competitions in high school. Quite a bit more, now that you’re thinking about it, “I think we can do it. It would be nice to know for my next shopping trip.”

Both of them perked up, and you steeled yourself as you undressed down to nothing. Boa’s eye lights shone bright and wide, and you saw the glow start at his throat, but he shook his head and smiled, “I’ll be quick. Thank you for letting me help you!”

True to his word, Boa went fast, around your chest, from your collar to your nipple, and around the area under your breasts. “That’s that, thirty-four triple d, Sweet-pea.”

“thought so.” The younger brother wrote it down somewhere on his sketch pad, but he was still going, “I know someone who would kill for that size for her bleach cosplays.”

You tilted your head and he smiled, “Somebody I know at home. She’s almost as bad as Alphys about anime, but likes JUMP stuff more.”

“Ah, okay.” You were focusing on anything other than Boa being between your legs with his tape, going quickly over your thighs, around your butt, and gently pressing the end of the tape to your core and going up a ways before snapping back and listing off his findings. “Well, that was fast.”

“three minutes. A little slower, but we’ve never measured a human before.”

Boa nodded and handed you your things, “We have everything we need to make you the best costume and find the best things on our shopping trips now.” There was blush on his cheekbones, and his smile was very soft, making your own cheeks heat more.

“Thank you for being fast with it. I’m not exactly used to being naked in front of other people.” You hurry to get your clothes back on, even as you hear something in an almost electronic voice. “Huh?”

Boa blushed, “Um, sorry. I slipped into Wingdings for a moment. I ah…I was saying we were lucky to get a glimpse at such a rare treasure as your body.”

Sweet-pea snorted and giggled, “that’s what he said literally, but wingdings is a monster language, so you don’t get any of the cute undertones and intents that went with it in English. you do look nice, though.”

“You boys are going to be the death of me. I’m going to die of flattery,” You had scrunched up your face from how hot it got, and huffed as you pulled your shirt back on, “and then Papy and Sans will be widowers.”

“You’d have to marry them for that,” Boa smirked a bit.

“smartaleck” you stuck your tongue out at him and walked to the door, “You’re both lucky I love you.”

“we love you, too, y/n.” Sweet-pea poked Boa, who just waved at you.

You shake your head and leave.

As soon as the door shut, Boa’s whole skull exploded in color and he jerked his scarf off as the jewel below burst into brilliant light. “Oh my stars, I’m going to keel over! Humans smell so different and it’s GOOD and they’re so amazing already and then just! Naked right in front of me! ack!”

Sweet-pea chuckled, blushing a bit, “they were lovely. And those hips….gosh, I know kids aren’t the end all be all up here but they look like they could carry so well…”

“I know!” Boa groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands into his closed sockets, “How does Papyrus just have them as his datemate and not keep them in the bedroom all day?”

“He’s just not turned like us, bro,” Sweet-pea sighed, “but I’m glad they’re at least happy with each other. You could smell him on them as soon as the layers came off.”

Boa finally seemed to calm down as the glow in his gem dimmed, “That was reassuring. Now we’re sure they’re not hurting themselves with repression or anything.”

“pretty sure it’s only us that need that regular release for health,” Sweet-pea mumbled. “humans don’t get heats, much less be in one all the time.”

“That still is amazing to me. And there’s so many of them even so! But then again, they are mammals that care for their young a long time. it’s only natural most of their offspring live.”

Sweet-pea laughed, “you should never have dropped out of zoology, bro. you’d have been a great professor.”

“I’ll be a better guardsman slash radio host!” Boa shot back, getting up. “Now, as soon as you have the design ready, bring it to me. We’re going to make the others drop their jaws to the floor.”

“and all in a human-friendly fashion. Gonna be fun,” Sweet-pea waved his brother off, and got down to work. He was going to make the rest of the world see exactly what Y/n was to their household.

Whip was uncomfortable. Not because he didn’t participate in the pillow cuddling normally, because he had before the human had come. No, it was because said human had chosen to sit beside him in the pile. He was still jumpy around them, even if he knew they were on much better terms after his apology.

It didn’t help that Spice was on their other side and snoring so loud he could hardly hear.

“MAY I PLEASE WAKE HIM UP TO STOP THAT RACKET?”

“No, Whip, don’t wake him. He’s actually not trying to fluster me when he’s sleeping,” says the human, looking fondly at Spice. Well, they did have a point. “Here, let me try shifting him a bit.”

Interested, he watched as you gently shifted Spice’s head back, and his brother’s raucous snores quieted to gentle, soft vibrations.

“HOW DID YOU DO THAT?”

“Snoring in humans is caused by some weird blockages in the throat. I figured, if he’s snoring because of his ecto always being on, maybe doing what helps a human would help him.” You continue to intrigue him in the most unexpected ways.

Boa had been almost giddy in his sexy nurse costume when he handed you a bundle on Halloween at noon, “Here, Pumpkin, it’s your costume. Go put it on, hurry!”

Sweet-pea was behind him, a very normal looking scarecrow costume decorating his form, beaming in pride, “if you need help, just holler.”

Curious, you went to back into your room (you’d been leaving it to ask about just this) and opened the bundle. A beautiful Grecian dress, creamy white with golden clasps, lay in a cloud of feathers with a set of very soft, cottony underwear. The ease with which those went on surprised you, and the lifting of the weight of your chest from your back made your eyes widen. “Oh.” Boa had been incredibly accurate in that the wrong underthings could make you hurt.

The dress slipped on, as did a pair of delicate sheer white hose, and some golden sandals. The feathers, you realize, are wings that loop onto the clasps on your shoulders and attach to the golden rope around your waist. You actually get them on yourself, and when you pick up the little harp and halo that were hidden underneath, you grin. “An angel, huh?”

Everything fit like a glove, comfortable but flattering as you exited and came down the stairs. Charm saw you first and gasped, “Oh! Sweetheart, that’s gorgeous, but here, come with me.” He had that sneaky look when he was going to try and goad you or Sans and Papyrus into doing something romantic, but instead of taking you to them, he took you to a room under the stairs that you’d never bothered to investigate. It was like a dressing room in a theater, with lights and make up and wigs of all kinds.

“Welcome to my studio! On of the things I learned from my bestie underground is that half of an outfit is made by your make-up. Let me take you from a ten to an eleven.” He sat you down and gently removed the golden circlet of your halo, setting it down on the vanity. “Now, monster make-up is a lot different than human in that it doesn’t take five hours to do! So, I’m going to turn you around, and in thirty minutes you’ll be the belle of the Halloween ball.”

You only had a brief glimpse of your reflection (thankfully) before the chair was turned and Charm got to work. Smooth, cool creams were dabbed onto your face by his clearly practiced hands, having taken of his gloves to do this. It was kind of hard to keep from laughing, as he’d already made himself up and was wearing a rainbow afro and a red nose on top of his pure white face, blue eye circles, and big red mouth decorations. He was a very colorful clown, and the first clown you’d ever been happy to see.

Charm had his tongue stuck out while he worked, and you just couldn’t help yourself. You reached up and poked it with your finger. “Boop.”

He squinted his sockets and made a short noise that sounded like laughter, then gently told you off, “Don’t boop the beautician, sweet thing. It’s not polite.”

“But you’re my bestie first,” you point out, and his smile grows.

“I know.” He brushes his teeth against your forehead gently, “Now let me work my magic, quite literally.”

You giggle quietly, and he hums, using a puff to place powder over the creams.

He then goes around you and gently begins coming through your hair, adding some things to it as well, “When this is done, sweetie, it’s going to just be you with some polish. You’re always this lovely to us, it’ll just be enough magic to let others and you see what we see every day.”

“Are you sure?” Yes, you’d been pleased with the little bit of change you’d seen in your clothes since starting your daily yoga, but you still felt…gross.

“Oh, I’d put my soul on it.” He squeezed your shoulder gently before returning to his work on your hair, “Papyrus and Sans think you hung the moon, Y/n. And I’d put money on Boa thinking the same. Sweet-pea trusts you more than he’s trusted anyone outside the family, ever. Whip even let his pride go and started to get to know you. That means something.”

“And you and Sugar? Spice?”

“Oh Y/n, I can’t even put into words what you mean to me.” His voice was so soft and full of love, you couldn’t even imagine what his expression was, “and my brother is slowly letting go of his fears. He’ll understand your magnificence when he does. “ A snort of wry laughter, “And Spice would have you be his own private teddy bear if it was up to him.”

You giggle thinking about that. Since he’d gotten over your mutual miscommunication, Spice had been the ultimate cuddlebug when he felt he could be. Which was most of the time. Not that you minded, he was warm, and the thick ecto he always wore was soft and comfy. Plus, you liked his voice. It was different than the others, like Whip’s in that it was gravelly, but smoother underneath, carrying a sweetness you liked.

“Let me paint your nails, and then we’ll be done.” Charm squatted in front of you and took a bottle of what looked like clear nail polish out. He thought for a moment, then nodded, a zap of pink magic infusing the bottle and turning the polish inside gold. “That should be the right color. A touch of Midas, hm?” He beamed at his reference, and you nodded.

You used the time to talk about a movie you saw once, of people trying to gain an item related to King Midas, and Charm suggested you find it online and the family could watch it next weekend. After all, after your group returned from the Halloween carnival, you all would be watching Halloween themed cartoons and family movies (because Papyrus, Sweet-pea, and Boa preferred not to watch horror films) while eating whatever candy remained after the trick-or-treaters.

Looking at your fingernails, not only were they shimmering as if they were covered in liquid gold, but they were perfectly shaped and the cuticles that were normally rough were smoothed down. “Wow! How did you do that with just polish?”

“It’s the magic in the polish.” Charm finished your toes and returned the brush to the bottle, “The polish is just there to change color according to my intent. I needed it gold, and I wanted your nails to be healthy and beautiful, so the magic did the rest. Even after we take the polish off, you’ll still keep the healthy nails underneath. Also, it’s instant dry, too.”

He looked you over one last time and nodded, “Alright, are you ready?”

When you said yes, he placed the halo back on your head and turned you around. You almost burst into tears right there. Your hair was laying around your face in elegant waves, framing it perfectly and without frizz for the first time in your life. And your face, it was exactly what Charm had said. It was you, but your skin was evenly colored instead of blotchy, the texture was smooth and uniform, every pore was clean and tiny. Your eyelashes and brows were present instead of faded out like they usually were, and all signs of the flaky dermatitis that had plagued you since your teenage years was gone from them.

“I’m…..Charm, you did…” you just looked over at him, the water dripping out of your eyes without you even blinking to free it. “It’s wonderful.”

“Just a little MTT Beauty Butter and the intent to clean and heal. The rest is all how your body naturally wants to be. It loves you, just as we do, and wants you to be happy and healthy. It just needed a little boost, now and again, is all.” He helps you to your feet, taking a nearby box of tissues and using them to gently dry your tears. “Now you can see yourself as the angel we know you are.”

You just hug him, far beyond words.

He strokes your head gently, waiting for you to recover before saying, “Now, we should get to the living room to meet up with the others and head for the carnival.”

You felt like you were walking on air as he led you out of the make up room and down the hall to the living room.

The banter had started already, “SANS, WHY DO YOU INSIST ON LAZINESS? IT’S OUR FIRST HALLOWEEN WITH Y/N IN THE HOUSE AND YOU JUST….THAT?!”

Entering, you saw Papyrus dressed as Superman, cape and spandex in red, blue, and yellow, and Sans was wearing a black, cat-ear headband taped to his skull, with black whiskers drawn on his cheekbones sloppily, all with his normal clothes.

Sugar, as a sexy witch, is standing with his broom in a corner, laughing behind his hand next to pirate-captain Spice, long coat sweeping his brown boots and black hat sporting a big maroon feather. Whip was dressed as a classic Devil, though he’d exchanged the red onesie for a bright red business suit. Boa and Sweet-pea were on the couch, chatting.

Charm cleared his throat and that got everyone’s attention, and you were feeling quite small as they all looked at you.

Whip’s eye lights went out, and you noticed a bright glow in the left leg of his pants. Oh no…oh no you’d made him uncomfortable. “I-I didn’t pick this out but…I’m sorry.”

Spice came over, taking your hands in his (where did he find all those rings?), “don’t apologize, baby doll. You’re beautiful. Sweet-pea an’ Boa done good. you too, charm, cause I know baby doll don’t do make-up like that.”

“Bu-but-“

“no buts,” Sans shortcutted next to you and beamed, “you look perfect. We’re going to be the envy of everybody. Though, as an angel, you probably don’t like that, do you?” He winked and you smiled. You couldn’t help yourself if Sans was making jokes.

Papyrus strode over and knelt in front of you, making everyone step aside for him, “AS A SUPERHERO, I WILL WORK VERY HARD TO DO GOOD, SO THAT I MAY GET VISITS FROM THIS UNEARTHLY VISION OF LOVELINESS AGAIN!” He was sparkling -literally-, cheeks flushed orange, as he looked up at you.

“Papyrus, you can see me anytime.”

“I KNOW, BUT YOU LOOK EXACTLY LIKE A MESSENGER FROM HEAVEN RIGHT NOW! THE PICTURE OF THE DELTARUNE’S PREDICTED SAVIOR!” He frowned and got up, “THOUGH, THAT ACTUALLY TURNED OUT TO BE FRISK, SO YOU’RE THEIR COUSIN. BUT STILL!”

Sugar flounced over in the short skirt and tights that were wrapped around his bones, “ooh, our little y/n has graduated from pretty to gorgeous.”

Charm rolled his eye lights, but Boa and Sweet-pea rushed over before he could fire back at his brother.

“Oh, Y/n, it’s absolutely perfect. I was worried about the top of the dress but it’s laying fabulously,” Boa cooed, proud of his work.

“you look just like I thought you would,” Sweet-pea gave a small laugh, “though, turns out real life is better than imagination in this case. Thanks, charm, for finishing off the look.”

“Oh it was my pleasure, believe me,” Charm actually honked his nose, revealing it to be a prop horn, “I might be a clown tonight, but I am a chivalrous guard first and helping our dear Y/n shine their brightest is the least I could do.”

You were blushing so hard, but Papyrus gently scooped you out of the crowd, “NOW LET’S GET GOING TO THE CARNIVAL. I WANT EVERYONE TO ADMIRE OUR ANGEL BEFORE THEY GET TOO FLUSTERED AND MUSS THEIR MAKE-UP!”

There was a murmur of agreement, and as you left the house, you waved goodbye to Sweet-pea, who was beaming as he closed the door.

#suggestive #reader x papyrus #reader x sans #underlust #lustfell #lustswap #undertale fic

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bnha-mha-imagines · 4 years

Note

Some of your favourite bois s/o goes as a sexy nurse?

YOOO it only took an extra 22 days but we finally finished the last of the Halloween special! LOL! This one was very fun ;) I LIKE A LOT OF BOIS but these are the ones closest to my heart

Denki Kaminari

The second it became October Denki was already in the spooky-spirit. He would send you skeleton memes and even pictures of costumes he wanted to see you in. A lot of them were skimpy kind of outfits that left little to the imagination, and he’d show them to you teasingly.

“Come on babe, you should totally wear this one to the Halloween party~”

“Denki, I have swimsuits with more coverage than that.”

Never in a million years would he have thought that you would actually order one of the costumes he picked out for you. He’d been joking most of the time, and his teasing demeanor was completely thrown out the window when he saw you in that skin tight nurse’s costume.

The white dress rode dangerously high on your thigh, and you had it unbuttoned to show off your cleavage. When you walked out of the bedroom all dressed, you almost laughed.

There Kaminari stood at the door in his Area 51 alien costume, completely dumbstruck.

You couldn’t keep the smile from your face. “Ready to head out to the party?”

And he just closes his gaping mouth and smiles coyly. “I don’t know, I kinda wanna stay in now, babe~”

But nope, you took so long to prepare your costume, you’d be darned if no one got to see it! So you drag him off to the party but you can feel him staring at you from across the room the entire time… of course, it didn’t help that you kept shooting him little smiles throughout the night.

Shota Aizawa

Aizawa had no real intention to go out for Halloween night. Though he’d been invited to one of the hero bashes, it wasn’t exactly his scene. So instead, he was one of the *lucky* heroes who were out on patrol to prevent some holiday mischief from taking place. He’d much rather stay in, leave a bowl of candy at the front door, and sit in a dark room with you.

When he finally gets home late, he opens the door to see that all of the lights were off. So he just steals one of the left-over candies from the bowl and walks further into the dark house.

He thought you were asleep until he saw a small light flickering from under the bedroom door. Interest slightly peaked, he takes a bite of the candy and pushes open the door to see...you, but in a deliciously revealing nurse’s outfit. “Oh! You’re finally home!”

His Halloween hadn’t gone exactly the way he’d hope it would but...this surprise is also a very nice option! He’s tired from the night out but just one look at you has him playing along. He’s already walking to the bed when he pops the last of the candy in his mouth. “What a pretty little thing you are...are you going to take care of me?”

You’re already smiling and crawling over to him. “Mmhmm~ You fell so hard for me, I think you require all sorts of attention...”

Tomura Shigaraki

Shigaraki knew that the league was throwing some stupid party at the bar, but he’d be damned if he went anywhere near it! That sort of festive spirit was the kind of shit he wanted to be far from; why would he waste his time dancing to awful music when he could stay home and play some fps?

His pissy attitude didn’t deter Toga from pestering him about it though! He was just about to snap at her for the fifth time that he wasn’t going when she suddenly pulled out the big guns.

“But (Y/n)’s gonna be there!” That shut him up pretty fast. Already his mind is racing with all sorts of thoughts and possibilities. Were you really going? Why would you be interested in going to some tacky Halloween party?

Toga could see the gears moving in his head and knew she was about to reel him in. “Besides, we picked out something super cute for them to wear! No doubt they’ll be the belle of the ball!”

Snap! There it was. Count on Toga to piss him off into compliance. Shigaraki would be damned if any of those shitty villains of his got to ogle you instead of him. So, begrudgingly he goes to the party. He didn’t even dress up for it. He hates every second of it...but seeing you dance in that tiny nurse skirt makes it worth it.

“(Y/n), why don’t we blow this shithole and get out of here?”

Yuga Aoyama

Aoyama wanted to wear matching costumes with you!!! So you both went to the Halloween store together to pick some out. Between the two of you you had picked out quite a few costumes--Batman and Robin, cop and robber, rabbit and magician--but the first one you tried on just so happened to be your favorite.

It was a nurse’s costume, and though it was a little tight around the bust and ass, you couldn’t help but check yourself out in the mirror. You looked good. Damn good.

Aoyama was in the dressing room right across from you, and you were both planning on revealing the costumes at the same time. You heard him call out to you, “Are you ready?” and with a small ‘yes’ you unlocked the door.

Seeing your boyfriend across the hall, you noticed how his eyes immediately jumped to where the costume hugged your curves, and his expression couldn’t seem to make up its mind. You on the other hand, had a very clear expression on your face.

Aoyama could make a trash bag look amazing, and his doctor costume was sending a heat straight to your cheeks. No doubt he was going to bedazzle his coat, and you could just imagine how fantastic it would look on him.

“Don’t you look darling, ma chérie!” He’s already walking across the dressing room to cup your cheeks with his hands. “

He’s complimenting you left and right. “B-But Aoyama we still have like, twenty costumes to try on!”

“Yes, but this is the one I like the most! Let’s get it!”

#kaminari x reader #denki x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta x reader #aoyama x reader #yuga x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #halloween special #bnha headcanons #mha headcaons #bnha imagines #mha imagines

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shiemishuzenji · 3 years

Text

100 OC Question Meme!

created by marchenvillain <3

Your Wings edition: Shiemi Shuzenji!

1. What’s a unique skill they have? Is their any reason why they can do it? Shiemi can harness the power of the sun in order to heal wounds. Her Quirk is a mixture of her mother’s (who can bend light) and grandmother’s (who can heal wounds).

2. What are their favourite possessions? Why? (sentimentality, history, price, etc) The necklace that Hawks gave her is very important to her. She sees it like a symbol of their love.

3. Do they get jealous easily? If so, what usually causes it? She gets insecure, but she never acts on her jealousy. Often times, if women fawn over Hawks, she gets all up in her feels.

4. Are they a good gift-giver? What do they tend to give as gifts? She’s more of a practical gift giver. She pays attention to what someone really needs and she’ll get it for them.

5. What’s their reputation like? Does this reputation contrast what they’re really like? People (especially when she worked in the hospital) hail her as a good doctor but one with little to no social skills. She’s quiet, so a lot of people think she’s mean. Others, like her old boss, like her polite and respectable nature.

6. Do they prefer to have a big social circle, or a few close friends? Definitely a few close friends. She’s content with Aizawa, Kayama, and Mic.

7. What’s their “type”? What romantically attracts them to another person? Men who are confident! If one looks at her track record, her old boyfriends in high school were all jocks who loved the limelight. Hawks is cocky, but a lot of that haughtiness is a facade. She loves that he knows how to tone it down and come back to Earth.

8. What does their dream house look like? She’s a simple woman: a modern white home with a huge lawn for a garden. She’s always wanted to plant sunflowers. I’m a huge horror fan, so for some reason, I’m envisioning the villa from The Human Centipede… Just the outside! eheh... is that weird?

9. If they could change one part of their appearance, what would it be? Shiemi is actually very lithe; her mother says she’s got no meat on her bones. She would love to bulk up! Also, her cup size is a B. She would change that, too, if she could.

10. What’s a simple thing that brings them joy? Well, Shiemi’s love language is acts of service. It really warms her heart when people help do things with or for her!

11. What is their dream pet? A cat! A fluffy white one. Maybe Aizawa had some influence on her? ❤️

12. What’s their position in their friend group? (leader, mom friend, chaos goblin, etc) The voice of reason. She likes to have practical fun! She’s not as rigid as Aizawa, but nowhere near as wild as Mic.

13. How forgiving are they? What do they consider unforgivable? Shiemi is definitely forgiving, so much so that it is sometimes her downfall. However, she believes there is no excuse for villainy.

14. Who do they go to in a crisis/emergency? Any particular reason why they choose that person? Hmmm, it’s funny because most people go to her in an emergency since she’s got that nifty healing Quirk haha! Shiemi has plenty of people to depend on like Midnight or Recovery Girl, but Hawks is the one she always turns to when she needs saving.

15. How good are they at conversation? Are they a small talk master, bad at initiating, etc? The only person she likes to make small talk with is Hawks, really. She’s not much a talker, and prefers to let others do the talking. This is why she and Aizawa click so well because they both can appreciate silence.

16. What food do they absolutely hate? She actually doesn’t care for greasy foods. Pizza, for example, upsets her tummy.

17. Do they show a lot of affection, or are they pretty reserved? She’s not into PDA, but she loves to be held and kissed. When she’s sad, she almost always needs a hug. ❤️

18. If you had to represent them with a flower, colour, and animal, what would you choose? I feel like she’s more of a white lily, which I hear symbolizes humility and devotion. Her color would be blush pink, for her more timid nature and her affinity for that color. As for an animal, I think she’d be a snowshoe hare!

19. What’s their unusual quirk? (Quirk with a lowercase q, haha) Shiemi has always had very strong intrusive thoughts, and I’ve made this obvious from the first chapter. I based this on my own struggle with intrusive thoughts, so Shiemi and I can relate on the issue of fighting our inner voices to be better people.

20. Are they easy to wake up in the morning, or grouchy and sleepy? She’s an early bird! Very easy to wake up in the morning.

21. What’s their ideal date like? She loves night walks on the beach followed a busy night of makin’ love ;)

22. What’s their silliest or most unusual fear/phobia? Probably spiders. She’s not the type to scream when she sees one, but if it’s big and hairy, she’ll leave the room.

23. Is their pain tolerance high or low? Pretty low, all things considering. She knows how to fight, she just doesn’t like to because she can’t really handle her own.

24. Are they a fussy eater? Nope! She’ll try just about anything. She understands the importance of eating healthy, so she makes sure to eat her veggies every day. (Unlike me…)

25. What are their dreams like? As the writer, I’ve always made her dreams symbolic. They often reflect her true feelings or the things on her mind.

26. Are they technologically savvy? Yes! Working in the hospital, she’s a quick learner, and working in the hospital, she’s had to learn how to use all the equipment.

27. Are they forgetful? What do they tend to forget? (plans, phone, keys, etc) No, she tries to be very organized. The most that she forgets would be if she’s got a lot of work to do, she might forget one assignment.

28. Describe their morning routine. Open the curtains first (she needs sunlight), drink black coffee, watch the news, take a shower. Suuuper adult of her, I know. She’s a creature of habit!

29. Are they a good cook? If they are, what do they like to make? She’s an okay cook. Certainly not as good as Hawks! She can make basic food, but a lot of it lacks flavor -- something Hawks has had to teach her.

30. Do they consider themselves a “hero” or “villain”? Hero! Definitely. She’ll heal anyone in need, but she works for the heroes, on the side of good.

31. What holiday do they like the most? (Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day, etc) Christmas. It’s the one time of year she gets to spend with her whole family. Even though tensions are high, she still loves her family more than anything.

32. What are they like at parties? Party animal, or awkwardly sitting in the corner drinking punch and reading? She’s the wallflower. She’d rather grab a bite to eat and sit back, people-watching.

33. Are they adventurous, or do they prefer to stay in their safe zone? She prefers to live life on the safe side. Though life with Hawks definitely makes things exciting!

34. What’s their favourite drink? (Coffee, tea, juice, hot chocolate, soda, etc) She loves coffee; preferably black coffee. Her go-to drink at Starbucks is a venti black cold brew or a cappuccino.

35. Are they good with children? Yes! Her serene nature tends to calm kids down. She especially used to love healing kids at the hospital.

36. Do they trust easily? What would you have to do to earn their trust? She’s normally very wary of people. She automatically has her guard up when approached by someone new, but honestly it doesn’t take much for her to let down her guard. For example, she was cautious of Twice when she met him, but once she saw that he and Mr. Compress needed help, she immediately dropped everything to help. Blame her big heart, I guess!

37. Are they a hopeless romantic, or is that stuff just not for them? God, YES!! When she first met Hawks, she tried to act all tough, but she’s such a SAP! In her relationships, she devotes everything to her significant other.

38. Do they get lost easily, or are they good with directions? Nah, she’s great with directions. She tries to have a good understanding of her surroundings.

39. Are they superstitious? She doesn’t believe in superstitions; she’s more of a woman of science.

40. Do they like physical activity, or staying inside? She enjoys a bit of both. She especially likes to go for walks, but doesn’t mind spending the whole day inside reading a book.

41. What would they dress up as for Halloween? A zombie nurse -- and I mean that in the laziest way possible. She would put on her uniform and paint her face and call it a day haha

42. Do they like fast food, or fancy restaurants? Fancy restaurants, for sure. She’s a bit of a snob. She’ll eat fast food if she’s on the go, but she grew up in the lap of luxury, and really enjoys the finer things in life.

43. Are they a chaotic bastard, pure angel baby, or tired mom friend? Pure angel baby. SHIEMI MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS.

44. Do they have a good attention span? Yes, especially when it comes to her friends. She’ll sit there and listen to someone talk for hours.

45. Are they always late, on time, or early? Shiemi thinks that if you’re not 15 minutes early, then you’re late.

46. Do they cry, gasp, laugh, etc, while reading a book, or do they remain relatively stone-faced? Stone-faced. She might furrow her brow if she’s into it, but she’s more internal with her reactions.

47. Do they keep a diary? She stopped carrying a diary when she was a teenager and her parents read through it without her permission.

48. How dramatic are they? She’s not haha She cries easily, but that’s just because she feels very deeply.

49. Do they put a lot of effort into their appearance, or do they just make themselves presentable and go? She’s comfortable with her looks, so she mostly curls her bangs and thinks it good to go.

50. Why would they be a good partner for a road trip? She would be president of the backseat! Delivering snacks, giving directions, listening to you talk and talk for hours!

51. Why would they be a BAD partner for a road trip? She’s not much for small talk. If it gets quiet, she’ll let it happen and whip out a book.

52. What topic should nobody bring up around them, lest the other person be subject to a massive ramble/rant? Anything bashing on heroes, or criticizing hero society. She’s so deep in it that she’s blinded to its flaws. She’ll defend Heroes till the day she dies.

53. Are they clumsy? No, she’s too cautious!

54. Are they a law breaker, or stickler for rules? Stickler for the rules. Not as bad as Iida hahaha but she doesn’t do anything she’s not supposed to. Blame her strict upbringing!

55. Choose a vine you think perfectly encapsulates their character. I LOVE THIS QUESTION! I feel like she’s: “Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does >:( ” or “Is there anything better than pussy? Yes, a really good book.” OOH, OR “How do you know what’s good for me? THAT’S MY OPINION!!”

56. Do they like to share? Yes, my girl is very giving ❤️

57. What’s the most chaotic thing they’ve done? Have sex with a bird man she just healed the night before :U Shiemi has a high sex drive

58. Which friend do they immediately become a zero-braincelled idiot around? She gets all smitten around Hawks tbh She can compose herself around everyone except for him. Then she’s just a puddle of GOO

59. Do they love or hate surprises? She does not like surprises! They make her uncomfortable and awkward.

60. What sappy thing will they cry at? (romance movies, cute cat videos, etc) Would they deny crying about it later on? She’ll cry during sad movies, but she’s stopped being ashamed of being a crybaby

61. What’s their favourite and least favourite subject in school? Health and science are her best subjects, but her favorite was literature! Her least favorite was probably physical education just because it took her away from the books!

62. Do they take a lot of photos? If so, what of? She prefers professional photos; her camera roll is practically empty!

63. Do they wear makeup? Blush, mascara, foundation, but she only ever wears makeup for special occasions.

64. Describe what their social media would be like. Instagram: “NO PHOTOS” but plenty of tagged photos from Mic and Midnight. Facebook: articles on social issues or new medical breakthroughs.

65. Do they give people a lot of nicknames? No, she doesn’t, actually!

66. What nicknames do others call them by? She thinks it’s sweet when people give nicknames to her -- e.g. “Doc,” “songbird,” or “sunshine.” Side note: I was really into Yagami Yato when I first started writing, so of course Hawks calls her “Baby bird.” And now I really regret not being more original because goddamn... I’m not gonna go back and change it because Yagami doesn’t own the nickname, but just know that I am upset

67. What’s an outrageous story about them nobody believes? Uhh, that’s a great question. I can’t think of anything, to be honest.

68. Are they easy to fluster? What would you have to do to truly fluster them? Yes! Despite being so cool, calm, and collected, it’s easy to make her blush. Hawks is a pro at getting her all worked up!

69. What’s their dream vacation like? She dreams of traveling, preferably somewhere along the Caribbean islands where she can bask in the sun and discover new plants and creatures.

70. Are they a good liar? She is a notoriously bad liar, mostly because it eats her away inside. She can make a lie work if she commits to it enough, but she’ll always come out with it eventually.

71. What do they want to do in the future? She wants a family. She’s always wanted to be a working woman and come home after a long day to her family. She wishes that a certain someone would be a stay-at-home dad...

72. How do they feel about love? Again, she’s a hopeless romantic. She believes in having strong bonds with both family and friends, but she does dedicate most of her energy into her romantic relationship.

73. Are they more book smarts, or street smarts? oh my god, BOOK SMARTS. She wouldn’t last a day on her own out there, but man she could recite a whole scene from Shakespeare if you asked her to.

74. What’s their guilty pleasure? Sex. She doesn’t come off as promiscuous, but she would get some every day if she could.

75. Is there anyone they consider their rival? No, in fact Shiemi tends to keep to herself. She’s respectful and supportive of everyone. She does have enemies, of course, like Dabi or Mr. Compress.

76. Do they have any notable physical features? Her eyes are described as gray, but they’re more purplish-gray.

77. What’s their music taste like? Classical music takes up most of the space on her phone; Joe Hisaishi is a composer that she admires a lot.

78. What’s something they’re really bad at? Keeping her opinions to herself. She’s brutally honest, to a fault.

79. Do they have a good sleep schedule? Yesss, her whole life runs on a schedule!

80. What’s their aesthetic sense like? Oh, I’m not sure how to answer this?

81. What’s something they’re really proud of? Her degrees and awards make her feel accomplished. She has a hard time seeing her worth, but the diplomas on her wall are proof, to her, of what she can do.

82. How would they spend a free day? In bed, reading a book, snuggled up beside Hawks ❤️

83. What are they like as an s/o? Lowkey, kind of clingy. She loves attention and wants to spend all her time with her significant other, doting on them, making them feel good.

84. What’s one thing they like that they don’t want anyone to know about? Her sex drive (> w >);;

85. Do they have a sweet tooth? She doesn’t; she’s more of a savory or salty person. I actually really like this dichotomy between Hawks and Shiemi, for some reason? The fact that she takes her coffee black and he takes his sweet is kind of nice.

86. How would you describe their fashion sense? I once had a beautiful professor at university who only wore maxi skirts and nice blouses. Her fashion sense inspired my vision of Shiemi a lot. If she’s not wearing her hero uniform, you can find her in a pink maxi skirt and a white blouse.

87. Do they like spicy food? She can definitely handle her spice, but she wouldn’t choose it!

88. Are they lucky? Do they believe in luck? By all means, she has the worst luck! Can’t say that she believes in it, though.

89. What would they get into a petty argument over? Shiemi stands her ground on her opinions, but she’s more or less an agreeable person. She doesn’t like to argue or cause tension, but she will if it means standing up for herself.

90. Are they a good artist? She can’t draw and she’s got that doctor handwriting lmao

91. Do they prefer hot or cold weather? Hot! Shiemi’s Quirk is most powerful if she’s in direct sunlight. When the sun is behind the clouds, it takes more energy and time for her to heal someone. Despite all that time in the sun, the poor woman can’t tan!

92. Can they play an instrument? Her parents made her play piano when she was a child, but she doesn’t dabble in it anymore.

93. What type of movies do they like to watch? Romance and mysteries! Her favorite movie is Titanic. She cries every time!

94. What does their room look like? Neat and organized. She’s got a lot of bookshelves in her room and a nice set up for her computer space.

95. How do they feel about bugs? Scared? Fascinated? She’s fascinated by bugs, but from a distance. She won’t touch ‘em!

96. What’s their sense of humour like? (Dad jokes, morbid humour, basic knock-knock jokes, stand up comedy, etc) She laughs really hard at stand up comedy. Since she’s a little more serious, she can appreciate how goofy Hawks is!

97. What do they keep in their bag? Cell phone, earbuds, portable charger, folding scissors for emergencies, Band-Aids, and if she’s not wearing it, she’ll fold up her lab coat and put it in there, too.

98. How competitive are they? She’s only competitive with herself. She doesn’t have to be the best, but she can’t stand being the worst. (I’m the same way.)

99. What would they wear to a formal event? Describe their outfit! She actually wore that beautiful red dress in chapter 10! If you Google “Elizabeth Banks Vanity Fair 2020” it’ll pop up.

100. If you, the creator, met them, would you two get along? Yes! I think that it’s impossible for any author/creator to make a character without at least adding some personal elements in them. Shiemi isn’t a self-insert, but she and I share a love of reading and we’re both overachievers. So I think she and I would make great friends!

#your wings ao3 #shiemi shuzenji #bnha oc #oc #oc questions #my hero academia oc #my hero academia #archive of our own

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marvinswriting · 4 years

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Parties

sorry guys, we needed a bad guy.......blame bear for this one parties never end well og g/t mg (but its not canon to the ‘storyline’ and will never be referenced again lmao)

I hate parties.

Any size parties.

Just hate em.

There's a reason I spend my Halloweens with Damian watching horror movies rather than going to events.

The rest of my friends on the other hand love parties.

Maybe not Aaron, but he can deal. I can't.

Yet here I stand next to a drunk as fuck Regina in the Heron's kitchen. It's not a holiday or anything. Cady just wanted to throw a banger so Cady threw a banger.

Gretchen was around here somewhere. Aaron was in the living room and Cady was running frantically through the house multitasking taking shots and stopping drunk teenagers from wrecking her house. Damian stayed home with the common sense he's been blessed with.

I should be with him but Regina convinced me to come. And hey, it's Cady's house. At least I know I won't be dealing with Shane Omen or anything.

"Isn't this fun?!" Regina asks gripping my arm. As always shes wasted an hour in. To be fair, so are most people here. I think Cady was already drunk when we arrived.

"Yeah, this is tits." I say sarcastically, watching Cady do cheers with a random classmate and down whatever was in that red solo cup.

I was tipsy too, don't get me wrong. I'm not putting myself through a highschool party totally sober, but I wasn't wasted as fuck like the girl next to me.

"Huh, where is Gretchen?" Regina calls over the music.

"How should I know? She's not my giant."

Regina begins texting on her phone, clearly struggling to do so coherently.

My own phone dings and for a second I think she may have accidentally texted me but its a message from Aaron.

"Come to the living room." I read out loud. "It's Aaron." I explain once Regina shoots me a confused glance.

"Well, how the fuck does he expect us to get there?" Regina asks. "Can't just walk!" She's theatrically throwing her hands around and I can't help but laugh.

Cady walks into the kitchen, leaning against the counter we're at, looking incredibly stressed. "My house is going to be in flames by the end of the night." She mumbles.

"Hey, Cady?" I ask walking over to her. "Think you can take me to Aaron?"

Cady hums in agreement, watching a group of teens push each other around a couple feet away. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want Janis. Just- give me a moment."

She walks over to the boys and says something to them, I can't hear what they're saying but they stop roughhousing.

Cady walks back over, a stressed smile on her face. "What did you want?"

"Aaron texted me. I nee-"

"Hold that thought, Janis." Cady holds a finger out before walking away again.

I sigh, looking back to Regina. "You hear from Gretchen? She might be our best bet."

Not that I trusted a drunk Gretchen. I also promised Damian I'd stick with Cady in hopes to minimalize the risk of being dropped. But I don't see much choice right now.

"Nope," Regina pops the 'p', wobbling up and stepping over to me. "I like your hair today!" She grabs a strand and twirls it between her finger. "You're so pretty. You know that right?"

Regina has two levels of drunk. A bit tipsy and cliche white girl wasted. There's no in-between and it's abundantly clear where she's at right now.

"Right," Cady walks back over with a sigh. "What did you two want?"

"Oh, if it's not too much because you look kinda busy right now- could you take us to the living room? Aaron wants to talk with us-" My voice trails off as it becomes apparent that Cady isn't listening. She's glancing around the house while simultaneously taking long sips from her red solo cup. "Cady."

"What?" She glances down at us. "Oh, sorry. You were sayi-"

"Cady Heron!" A voice calls from the crowd.

I groan in frustration as Cady walks away without even saying bye to us.

Yes, I know its Cady's house party and she needs to watch out for her property, but Jesus is it so hard to pay attention to your friends?

"Still no Gretchen," Regina says. "I tried calling twice."

Cady walks back over with a grin. "Sorry. Sorry." Her phone dings and she pulls it out. "What did you need, Janis."

"For you to pay attention," I say, not bothering to hide the mild annoyance in my voice.

"Yeah, I get it. The same thing happened to me," Cady replies dully before gasping. "Who's posting my parent's bedroom on their private story! Upstairs is off-limits!" She runs back into the crowd.

I groan pulling out my phone to tell Aaron we may be a while.

"She's not paying attention." Regina points out.

"No, really."

It's not long before Cady is once again, making her way back to us. "False alarm." She chuckles. "Now. What did you two need again?"

"Can you take us to A-"

"Put that down! If that breaks you're getting billed!" Cady interrupts me, yelling at some people in the next room.

"Cady!" I yell, throwing my hands out in exasperation. "Pay attention, god damn it!"

"Jesus, Janis. Needy much?" Cady teases.

"Yeah! I am! I'm fucking small and would like assistance but you keep running off!"

"Yeah!" Regina cheers from behind me. "What's going on?"

Cady scowls. "You try throwing a fucking party, Janis. I have better things to do right now."

"Better things to do than care about the well being of your friends?"

I know Cady is drunk and probably isn't explaining her emotions the best right now. That or she's being one hundred percent honest because that's what happens when you're wasted. Just look at Regina.

"Yeah, Janis! Believe it or not, my world doesn't revolve around you."

"Actually, Damian put you in charge of Janis. To ignore her would be destroying his trust." Regina says, leaning onto me for support.

Cady shrugs. "And if my house gets wrecked I'm destroying my parent's trust."

"Listen, Cady! This doesn't need to be a fight! I just need help getting to A-"

"Janis I can't put all my attention on you all the time! It's not my fault you're in love with me or som-" Cady cuts herself off.

I already got the gist of it.

Regina gasps from somewhere behind me as I freeze.

"Janis-" Cady reaches forward but I step back.

"No."

"Janis I'm so sorry I-"

"Don't touch me." I push her hand away and Cady lets it fall to her side.

"I didn't mean it."

I think back to my 'people are more honest when they're drunk' thought. How come Cady only said these things when wasted? It clearly meant she believed those words to an extent.

"Janis please-" Cady raises her hand again.

"I said, don't touch me!"

There are tears in my eyes at this point. Arms wrap around me as Regina hugs me from behind.

"I want to leave." I whisper.

Regina nods into my shoulder. "I'll try calling Gretchen again."

I look up at Cady, whos standing there frozen, regret all over her face. "Janis," Her voice is barely audible over the party.

"Save it." I snap. I'm not going to let the tears fall. Not again. Not over her. I cried over Regina and I said I wouldn't cry over Cady. But I did.

I sure as hell won't do it again.

"Oh thank god you picked up, Gretchen." Regina lets go of me to step away and talk on the phone.

Gretchen, Regina, and I were all supposed to stay at Cady's for a sleepover. We would help her clean up the house and deal with hangovers together in the morning. But the last thing I want to do right now is stick around Cady.

Having your sexuality thrown at you as an insult has a strangely sobering effect. Guess you can learn new things even in the worst of times.

I'm pushing back the need to cry to the point where I'm feeling sick. I mean, puking my guts out would really just be a great way to end the night, huh? Anything other than cry over this. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me three times, twice with the same girl? Guess that's on me for being a dumbass.

Gretchen walks into the room. "Hey," She says tentatively. "I'm just here for Regina and Janis."

Cady steps to the side silently.

Gretchen holds her hand out, waiting for Regina and I to climb on. I'm not thrilled with the idea of a drunk Gretchen carrying me, but at least she won't turn my sexuality into an insult.

Gretchen pulls us to her chest and turns to Cady. "I don't fully know what went on, but Regina and I probably aren't going to stay the night. If you need help cleaning up tomorrow I'll swing by but I think everyone has had a bit too much tonight and we all need to take a step back."

Since when was Gretchen the reasonable thinker?

Cady nods, looking everywhere but me.

Regina's arms are back, pulling me into her for a hug. I don't fight it, I'm too occupied trying to keep tears at bay. I text Aaron saying we were leaving and the check up on Cady. Just like last time, even though she went for the lowest blow she could, I still care about her.

Maybe that's why I keep getting hurt.

Gretchen steps outside. "I'm obviously not driving."

"Yeah," I whisper. There's instantly one person in my mind I know I can call.

But-

I don't want to worry him over something like this. It's my fault I keep getting into these situations. It's on me. It's late, I don't want to have to wake him up.

But he wouldn't want Gretchen to drive, I know that much.

As if she can sense my inner turmoil, Regina's hand runs up and down my arm. "You wouldn't be annoying him, you know."

My phone rings, making both of us jump. Gretchen laughs at the sudden movement in her hand.

It's Damian.

"Wow, you guys really do have soulmate intuition." Regina giggles.

I elbow her and pick up the phone, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Damian, what's up?"

"I just got off the phone with Cady."

Why did he call Cady? What?

As if he knew my questions, Damian continues. "She called me because she said so,e things and wanted me to make sure you were okay. Do you, Regina, and Gretchen need a ride?"

"You don't need to, it's late you probably want to go to bed and-"

"Janis. I didn't ask what you think I wanted to do. I'm asking if you have somebody sober coming to pick you up?"

There's a long pause. "No." I say quietly.

"I'm on my way." Damian doesn't sound mad or annoyed that he has to come, much to my relief.

I nod, forgetting her can't see me, and lower the phone from my ear.

"Damian's coming." I say to Gretchen as the line clicks dead.

There's a lot of questions in my head. Why did Cady say those things to me at the party, again? Why did Cady call Damian? Why does it hurt more each time? All of my questions go largely unanswered.

Gretchen sits on Cady's front steps.

We can still hear the party going on inside, people cheering and music blasting. I feel bad for dragging Regina and Gretchen away from the party. I know it's their scene.

"I thought I was gonna be sick in there," Gretchen admits. "Kinda glad for an excuse to get fresh air. Just wish the excuse wasn't because of-" She glances back inside.

"Yeah." I say slowly.

Regina has since let go of me and the cold winter air is a lot more apparent. Why throw a party in the winter? A high school party is just an excuse to wear skimpy dresses and minimal clothing. Why not do it in the summer or something.

I look down at my own dress. Regina insisted I wear one but she couldn't get rid of my fishnets and jacket. You couldn't really tell it was a form-fitting black dress due to my baggy jacket yet I still felt uncomfortable. I tugged at the bottom in a vain attempt to make the dress longer.

"I hate parties."

Regina giggles from next to me in her pink rubber dress. I don't understand how she could walk around like that. Her dress was even shorter than mine.

Regina and Gretchen chat while we wait for Damian. I don't contribute to the conversation, I barely even listen. I'm too lost in my thoughts, trying to figure out why Cady would do this to me.

Again.

It isn't until a familiar car pulls up that I properly tune into the real world. Damian doesn't even wait for Gretchen to walk over, he's already out of his car and making his was over. I cringe at the worried look on his face, knowing it's my fault. He's wearing his denim jacket and its wrapped tightly around him in an attempt to fight the cold air.

"Hey." He says softly. "Mind if it?" He motions to me but directs the question to Gretchen. Gretchen holds out her hand and Damian lifts me up, mindful of Regina.

"I assume you're taking Regina back to your place?" Damian asks Gretchen.

"I think so."

"Let me text my mom to let her know, but yeah." Regina says, pulling out her phone.

Damian nods, holding me close to his chest and walking to his car. "Janis, do you want to go home or-"

"Can I stay with you?" I ask tentatively. Cady was annoyed with me for asking too much, was everyone else too? I knew I wasn't overstepping boundaries to ask to stay with Damian, but deep down I felt like I was.

"Of course." Damian says warmly. Both him and Gretchen step in the car. It's warmer in here because of the heater. Damian slips me wordlessly into his jacket pocket where I sink down, not even bothering to join in this conversation. Damian taps the pocket before starting the car. He and Grethen talk in hushed voices and I can occasionally make out Regina saying a word or two.

I think Regina is telling them about what happened but I don't contribute.

"You could see it on her face as soon as she said it that she regretted it."

"Then why did she say it?" Gretchen whispered.

"When she called me," They were all whispering, but Damian's voice was obviously clearer. "She told me about how much she wished she could take it back. I told her that yeah, the first time was fucked up, but Janis still accepted her apology. And that was a big step for Jan. The more she says it, the harder and harder the apology will be to accept."

"Mhmm."

They talk more, but the conversations are about little thing so I don't pay attention much. The car stops and I poke my head out of the pocket to say bye to Regina and Gretchen. They both wave and Damian watches to make sure they get inside before pulling off.

"So," He says. "Talk to me, Jan. I know you don't like to, but please do it for me."

I sink back into the pocket slightly, leaning my head over the lip of the pocket.

"I feel shitty."

Damian hums knowingly. He waits for me to say more but doesn't push it. Just, a quiet opportunity to add more if I wanted to.

I didn't.

"When I got the call-" Damian sighed, turning onto his road, his voice filling up the silence in the car. I didn't mind, sinking into the pocket but still paying attention. "I didn't know how to feel. I thought it showed a level of matuirty that Cady wanted me to check up on you, but I think an even bigger sign of maturity should be to not do it in the first place. But- it's not about what I think. It's about if you're okay. Which you don't have to be right now, but you can talk to me. You know that."

"Yeah, I do."

Damian pulls into his driveway and turns off the car. "I love you, Janis." He says, unbuckling himself. "I don't know why this keeps happening to you but no matter what happens I'll be there."

Damian scoops me out of his pocket as he closes the car door behind him. He brings his hand up to his shoulder and I take the hint climbing on.

We make our way through the Hubbard household and into his room. Damian must be able to tell that I don't want to talk right now, because he talks about a bunch of random things from today's sunset to his new favorite broadway show. I don't contribute to the conversation and he doesn't expect me too. It's just nice to hear his voice and to concentrate on that, instead of the thoughts in my head.

Damian pulls out a small box that I recognize and gently brings me to his desk. He places the box on the table and lets me open it.

"I'm sure you don't want to go to bed in your party outfit."

It's a small box of all clothes I have left at the Hubbard in the past either intentional or by accident. I pull out a pair of sweatpants and an old band t-shirt, the album cover long faded.

"I'll be in the bathroom getting ready for bed, holler if you need me." Damian smiles before ducking out of the room.

Even when I hit my lows, my relationship with Damian doesn't change.

Yeah, I wasn't feeling very talkative tonight, can you blame me? Yet Damian didn't mind. He filled the quiet void himself. I smiled to myself as I began changing. Damian was always there when I needed him and he always knew what I needed in order to help.

I don't deserve him.

Did he ever get annoyed? Cady clearly did. I mean, I ask Damian for help a lot more often than I ask Cady. I bet it got irritating. He was probably about to get ready for bed before Cady called. And then he had to get up and leave the house because of me.

I'd be a little annoyed. I don't blame him.

God and now I'm making it worse by being here for the night.

I should have just gone home and dealt with my thoughts like a normal person. Me being here and me being such a mess isn't fair on Damian.

He deserves better.

There's a knock at the door as I finish slipping on my shirt. "I'm done!" I call, making sure my voice travels.

Damian steps into the room and the knot in my stomach tightens because I don't deserve him. And he deserves better.

I haven't cried about Cady yet. And I won't. I can't. Not again. Besides, it will worry Damian more and that's the last thing I want right now.

Damian crosses the room, sitting down at his desk.

"Hey." He says softly.

"Hi."

Damian's hand comes up to cup around me gently and I allow myself to lean back into the warmth.

"Tell me what's going on in that head of yours, Jan." He prompts gently.

"I feel stupid," I say. "Like maybe I should have seen this coming. Regina changed, why didn't Cady? Why is it that every time she's drunk that's the lowest blow she can think of. It's not even the words that hurt anymore, its the fact that Cady said it. Literally anybody else at that party could have said it and I'd be fine. But Cady said it. And it hurts."

I cut myself off when I feel the tears sting at my eyes again.

I already feel guilty about asking for help all the time. I already feel like a nuisance- being tiny and all. I didn't need Cady to solidify the thought that I was just an inconvenience to everyone.

"All I did was ask for help." I whisper, looking down.

It's quiet for a while. The silence almost feels too loud.

"Jan," I look up at Damian who also looks like he is about to cry. "Asking for help is never a bad thing. Ever."

"But, she-"

"No. Janis." Damian's voice is soft but stern. "We don't know what was going through Cady's head but that doesn't make what she said okay. Please promise me you'll ask for help when you need it. Even if you never ask anyone but me, promise me you won't try and do things on your own when you know people are willing to help."

I take a shuddered breath, still trying to hold the tears in. "Okay."

Damian smiles but laced with worry. "C'mere."

His fingers close gently around me as he draws me in. I grip onto his t-shirt, letting myself fall against his chest. "You're so strong, you know that, right?"

"I'm no-"

"I don't know anyone as brave as you." Damian continues without letting me deny anything. "To go through this so many times and still put a smile on your face? I'm so proud of you."

Damian gets up and walks over to his bed, placing me down on the pillow before walking around his room, turning off all lights.

I can ignore everyone's calls and texts for now, but school is going to be a bitch on Monday. Facing Cady is going to be a bitch on Monday.

A hand scoops me up at Damian lays down, placing me on his chest. His hand rests over me and I can't help but smile.

Yeah, Cady may see me and nothing more than a liability. Just another annoying thing to watch over, but Damian doesn't. Damian has proved time and time again that he cares and will continue to care.

Yeah, Cady's words hurt. A lot. But she didn't speak for every giant I know.

"Night, Janis," Damian says softly. "Love you."

"I love you too."

Cady had a lot of explaining to do come Monday. And even then, I'm in no rush to accept her apology. Because no matter what happens, I have Damian.

I always have.

And I always will.

lmao i told bear i wanted to write giant damian and tiny janis and im fully aware i could have just written like 500 words of fluff but like- this is so much more fun @realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @sourishlemons @smallsoysauce

#this took like two days?#i normally get fics out in an hour or two #wild #anyway sorry guys #tiny janis #giant cady #giant damian #tiny regina #giant gretchen

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diedieri · 3 years

Text

WIP - Unfinished- Holiday Brickercup (that sounds like a cookie)

So I really really wanted to get this finished the for Holiday but..Kinda lost steam.

I loved the idea of fluff n smut and I was like I need to get some Brick and Buttercup action so it doesn’t bleed too much into the main fic (LOLOLOLOL WELP)

so...this is unfinished, it’s a one shot, who knows maybe I’ll feel motivated later. I had a whole vision for this and for a Butch x Buttercup one shot too

alas...

I legit have not reread a damn word of this.

Little ficlet under the cut. I guess a bit of a warning-- i love all the dumbass holiday movie tropes. xDDDD;; so that’s what this (and the other) were supposed to be. Self indulgent lol WHEN AM I NOT YOLO.

If motivation does hit me, i will prolly put the finished product up on AO3

happy holidays merry christmas, mask up and stay safe

Christmas.

Cookies. Presents. Families. Snow. And escape plans.

Year after year, Buttercup had told herself she was going to skip it. Tell her family oh sorry, she had other plans. Every year, she came closer than the last. Last year had been that final straw. Buttercup, the only single sister watching everyone laugh and clap at the serendipitous surprise of both Blossom and Bubbles being proposed to. Buttercup was happy for them, and hateful for every family gathering to follow. Every time her sister’s promised they knew a girl, they knew a guy, that she would just love if she gave them a chance!

Buttercup hadn’t been looking for love or waiting for it. There was a city to save. Work to be done.

So this Christmas, she had a plan. From Halloween on she’d been dropping hints and planting the seeds of her having someone to see. Being late due to a date. At last when Blossom proposed the time the meet at the house, Buttercup laid out her cards.

“Oh, this year I’m actually going out of town! It’s nothing, big…Just.” She had to downplay it and let her sisters assume it was her pride getting in the way. They were elated and made her swear next year she’d insist the plans be back at the Professors.

It would have been just as easy to stay home in her apartment to play out her rouse. The more Buttercup had begun to imagine her would be date, the more she had decided to be accurate, incase anyone asked questions. She’d tell them which cabin she was going to, how cold it was going to be. She researched every night until one day she had done it. She booked a cabin from a small mom and pop place. They had pictures on their website but you had to call to make reservations.

What would Christmas be without a little self-indulgence? Wine, lingerie, bathbombs, and cookies were all on the list. It was her first vacation ever, the first ever alone at least. Bubbles had given her a gift just for the trip, a freshly knitted scarf and cap. Blossom bought her an expensive leather jacket. The professor got her doc martins. The guilt bled in a little. Only a little. She need the time away. To feel good and sane again. The distance would help her love her family and not strangle them.

“Ms. Utonium! You’re. Here.” The disappointment had never been more obvious. Buttercup barely got in the door, she hadn’t been able to shut it quick enough without letting snow blow in. Even her vision had been questionable in the brewing snow storm. Her cheeks were red and fingers nearly frozen shut around the handles of her duffle.

“Yeah,” Buttercup didn’t smile to met the woman’s nervous countenance. She was portly and rosey cheeked, though Buttercup would argue it was more flustered than natural. She set her bag at her feet. A distance from the counter.

“Oh sweetie,” Her distance instantly recognized, “I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just. Well.” She shuffled from behind the counter, her hands wiped over her apron hand stitched with an abundance of Christmas decorum. It matched the check in cabin nicely. Two trees. Real pine. A burning fire place. There were presents neatly placed under the pine and stockings stuffed to the brim. The lights on this cabin had been a dead give away when she wasn’t sure where to check in.

“You see with the storm coming, folks haven’t been checkin’ out. I couldn’t kick them out without a plan on Christmas. And with the planes grounded, I didn’t think anyone else would be coming in.”

At the mention of anyone else Buttercup turned completely to the red couch just behind her, another guest with a long black coat and red cap. If there had been any surprise he had since collected himself and left Buttercup alone to flounder.

Brick. Rowdyruff Brick was sitting with crossed arms staring her down. Of course the only two people with super powers had braved the storm and made it up to the mountain.

“Well darlin, you see, we have one cabin left.”

“So you gave it to him?” Buttercup asked with a snap, eyes still on Brick. If there was anything a Ruff could manage to take from a Puff it was their happiness. Buttercup’s one holiday she’d given herself. The chance to be without ridicule and out from under a microscope, the only one single and alone—her perfectly planned cottage get away. Stolen.

“No.” Brick answered for her. “She wanted to be sure no one was coming.”

“Goodness gracious,” The woman fanned her face despite the chill. She’d said it like a swear and the tone had Buttercup turning her back on Brick. Somehow she suspected this woman rarely swore and her meltdown would be a bigger threat than Brick.

“Hey, Ma’am its—”

“We know each other,” Brick cut in. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Buttercup, a visual representation to calm the ailed woman. “We can split it.”

“What?” The hostess and Buttercup asked together.

“But she’s,” a she, the woman might have said.

“I can handle myself lady.” Buttercup stomped out the fear without batting an eye. The point of this vacation was to be alone, right? If Brick had come this far away from Townsville it had to be no different than her.

“Is that alright?” Her cheeks were less fire engine emergency and more Jack Frost had nipped at her cheeks. Buttercup made fists in her pockets and damned the will of the people.

“That’ll be just fine.” Hardly. “Brick is a real gentleman. Righty Bricky?” She had been queuing up for a pack mule joke, but he had already shouldered her bag and taken the key from the Mrs. Klaus look alike.

“Oh dearie, take this. You’ll need all the extra you can get.” She hoisted a bundle of logs with both hands, Brick took it with one. “Oh, goodness and why don’t you take this on the house. For the trouble. We normally host a Christmas party, a little raffle.” She gifted Buttercup with a blanketed basket.

With the way Mrs. Klaus had been apologizing, Buttercup had been expecting the worst pick of the lot. Brick, drove their rented car slower than she’d ever seen him move up the twisted Mountain Road. It was farther than the other cabins. Brick gestured to the crude map that had come with the key.

“The Christmas Cottage. Really.” Buttercup snickered and noted the ghost of a smirk on Brick.

“What do you expect? I booked the one on Rudolph road.”

“I thought Snowflake Lane was winter themed.” It had been the cheapest of the bunch and even for her fake trips, Buttercup had kept to a budget.

The outside was small, decorated modestly with lighted candy canes noting the start of the long driveway up to the cottage. They framed the walkway up to the door, keeping its guest on path. This far up the mountain and back into the wood, the snow had piled on high and thick. The candy canes barely had any light to them under the grey sky and hidden under blankets of snow.

The chill was enough to have Brick and Buttercup moving quick. Neither dawdled over their situation and wanted to get in the cabin and warm themselves up. Brick fumbled with his things and the keys, he barely stepped in before back tracking to the car. He had thought a little deeper into the lodging, bringing multiple cooking supplies where Buttercup had a bag of goods to make pancakes, cookies, sausage, eggs, popcorn and frozen pizza. She thought about dining out one of the nights, she hadn’t thought about that being weather considering. Weather had played a very small part in her fantasy get away.

Of course Brick had considered everything. Buttercup hung in the doorway, Brick maneuvering around her to set down the large yeti cooler. He shut the door behind them,

“It’s warm.” He held out a palm. Buttercup kept hers tucked under her armpits. Her breathe wasn’t visible in the cabin and the chill closed behind them she thought anything might feel warm.

“Stomp off the snow and kick off your shoes.”

“I know how snow works,” Buttercup chirped and carefully undid the laces. As much as she loved the new kicks it was a relief to be out of them. The backs of her ankles were no stronger than anyone else’s when it came to breaking in new boots. She floated above the wood flooring to the cream colored carpeting.

Brick turned on every light as he walked, carrying the cooler to the kitchenette first. Buttercup couldn’t believe her own gasp.

The sharp ‘what’ died gently when he saw just what the switch had turned on. Every eve above the head was wrapped in white lights, the door frames lined with lighted garland and a tree just in front of the balcony, across from the dark fireplace. Blossom was a master interior designer, but Buttercup had never oo’ed and aw’ed like this before. It was a scene out of a movie, she was staring at a real life Christmas card. A red plush blanket tossed over the couch. Matching mugs on the wooden coffee table, Mr. and Mrs.

“Oh shit,” Buttercup held one up, a packaged cocoa nestled neatly inside. “I guess this is why she sorry.”

“Honeymoon suite.” Brick agreed and held up a bottle of champagne. “Oh. And there’s cake.” He read the card,

“A small wedding cake for the lovely Mr. and Mrs. Rudolph.”

“You’re shitting me,” Buttercup floated behind him. The damn thing was even decorated with the two reindeer. Either the couple would have hated or loved this. Likely loved it considering their location of choice.

“Well. Mr. Rudolph. We have cake.” Buttercup had no shame. Free wedding cake? She’d take the name if it came with a prize.

“I bet there are more surprises, Mrs. Rudolph.” His joke knocked a grin onto her face. Brick was snide and snarky. His remarks could cut as deep as his fist could punch. Something said without it being at the expense of any person was a bit of a surprise.

“Should we see what else the happy couple left four our honeymoon?”

“Wouldn’t that be stealing?”

“We’re helping them not be wasteful. Come on.”

“Go on, I’m going to start the fire.”

“Oh because that’s such a challenge for you.” Buttercup reached, her nail dragged from his collar bone and over Brick’s adam’s apple. Her sister was an ice breather and he had a belly of fire.

“I don’t need to use shit to start a fire.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure you can.” Buttercup batted her eyes and walked down the hall, “I’ll turn up the heater. Don’t want to freeze out.”

Buttercup didn’t really doubt the resourcefulness of the other. The boys had lived on their own, who knows what tricks each of them had picked up to sustain themselves. The banter was just another dialect, part of Buttercup’s language. A natural problem starter and shit stirrer.

#manawrites #powerpuff girls #rowdyruff boys #buttercup #brick x buttercup #holiday fic #WIP #I NEED MOTIVATION TO FINISH THIS UUGGHHH...i have so much planned for this lil thing...i'm just blah in a writing rut per usual lol

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w-k-smith · 4 years

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Once again, tumblr has hidden the version of this post that has links. (Clearly, weird fan fic where ghosts eat candy bars is just *too radical* for this website.) This story is also available on AO3, under the username w_k_smith.

Chapter Two is here of “Don’t Go to the Netherworld!”

In this chapter, Beetlejuice and Lydia make their way through Saturn, but are waylaid by Zagnuts, a boy band, and all the obstacles the desert otherworld has to offer.

Chapter One: “It’s a Wonderful Afterlife” (6/19/20) Chapter Two: “Worm Welcome” (07/03/20) Chapter Three: “Ghost to Ghost” (upcoming) Chapter Four: “To Beetle or not to Beetle?” (upcoming)

Warning: This story contains depictions of, references to, and discussion of topics like suicide, untimely death, abuse, and body horror - you know, like the musical does (though this probably has more). Know your boundaries, and stay safe.

New chapter under keep reading!

“I don’t understand,” Lydia said, as they crossed from the midnight of the administrative area, toward the hot afternoon of Saturn, through the twilight in between. “What’s Saturn? Are we going to the planet…somehow?”

“Nope. Totally unrelated, and don’t ask me who named it. Saturn is the part of the Netherworld that acts as a trap for ghosts who get out of line, like if you try to leave the house you’re haunting, or jump the line in processing like someone I could mention. Going through processing would only take a couple steps, but Saturn is an anti-shortcut from the feverish nightmares of M.C. Escher. It’s a giant desert, and it’s full of sandworms. Those are snake monsters that eat ghosts. Foreshadowing?” he muttered to himself.

“This is so weird,” Lydia muttered. “I love it.”

She didn’t seem like she was being sarcastic. Maybe hanging around her wasn’t going to be too terrible.

Unfortunately, he saw trouble ahead.

“Keep your head down,” he whispered to Lydia. “Look dead. Deader than that. And don’t sneeze! Dead people never sneeze!”

“What?”

“Hello, Beetlejuice,” said five tenor voices in unison. A cluster of expressionless young white men was drifting through the shadows toward him and Lydia. The boys had died in their late teens and very early twenties, long enough ago that two of them sported frosted tips. They were dressed just differently enough to be distinguishable from one another, in dated pants and t-shirts with no personality.

“Hey, Boy Inferno,” he grunted.

“What are you doing out here?” they asked. They all floated six inches off the ground, in a formation reminiscent of migrating ducks.

He rolled his eyes. “Just running an errand for Juno. Miss Argentina find that living intruder yet?”

“Not that we’ve heard. Who’s your friend?”

“New hire. Juno wants her on border patrol. Her name’s Lydia, and she’s boring. Kids these days, you know, they think eyeliner and TikTok counts as personality. But them’s the rules: if you add to the work, you have to help out.”

“Do you want to hear the introduction song, Lydia?”

Geez, they didn’t back off easy. “Save that for people who’ve committed genocide or worse.”

“We were talking to Lydia.”

At his elbow, Lydia scratched the end of her nose. Boy Inferno caught the gesture, and as one, cocked their heads.

“What did you die of…?” they asked her.

“Um, I don’t want to talk about it,” Lydia said, which was the wrong thing. All newlydeads ever wanted to do was blather on about how they’d bitten it.

“OK, you got me!” He stepped between Lydia and the boys. “This isn’t an approved mission to Saturn. We were actually trying to, ah, hide out from Juno for a while. She is in a mood today, I tell ya. Just impossible. She wants me to take a statement from all the recently deceased who were in line when the alarm went off, and then pinch each of them really, really hard to see if they still have nerve endings. I’d rather swallow my own toenails. Remember that time Juno made me swallow my own toenails? You were there for that, weren’t you? So be a hive-minded pal and help me stay on the DL. This one already threatened to tattle if I didn’t show her my good hiding spot.” He jerked his head at Lydia.

Boy Inferno blinked.

“Alright, then,” they said, and each voice sounded suspicious. But they drifted back toward the administrative area.

Lydia stared as they went. “Who are those guys?”

“Boy Inferno is a dead boy band. They didn’t have enough brains or personality to be individuals when they were a living boy band, and when their tour bus crashed, the situation got worse.”

“Yikes. And speaking of yikes, what were you saying about sandworms? Are they going to eat us?”

He waggled one hand back and forth, and started walking. “Eh. It’s probably OK. You’re alive, so they’ll leave you alone. I’m half-ghost, half-demon, which confuses them more than anything. We’ll be fine if we don’t run into a sandworm that’s pissed off or starving.” They were crossing into Saturn proper. The terrain changed from dark gravel to rolling sand dunes dotted with twisted rock formations. Wooden doors hovered here and there, from three feet off the ground to 20 stories high. There was the light and warmth of a yellow sun, but if you turned in every direction, you would never see a sun or any other stars in the royal blue sky.

“Huh. Now I kind of want to meet a sandworm...” Lydia said, looking around like one was going to pop out from behind a dune.

“Yup. That’s definitely foreshadowing.”

“So…what’s it like? Being half-demon? How does that, um, happen?”

He waved his hands to turn them into sock puppets – one red and bearing a vague resemblance to Juno, the other a grey blob and as good a representation as he’d ever had of his father. “Hello, children!” he said in a screechy voice. “Let’s talk about the occult birds and bees. When a demon woman tolerates a living human male very much…”

She shoved him. “I know that, gross! I’m ace, but not completely ignorant. I just wondered if you were ever alive.”

He put his hands back to normal. “Uh-huh. I was alive. Looooong time ago, though. Long enough that we didn’t pay much attention to what year it was, and only bathed twice a lifetime, and drank beer instead of water. Hm. Or maybe that was all just me. Anyway, Juno only had me to see what would happen if you mixed demon magic with ghost abilities. Turns out, you get yours truly. She hated the result, and I never got any little siblings to chase around. But it’s fine with the just the two of us; my mom has this sweet thing she says to me every day: ‘I wish you had never been born.’ I think it’s a Swedish pet name.”

“How did you die?” Lydia asked.

“I asked a bunch of annoying questions that weren’t any of my business and someone stabbed me.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “How far is it, anyway?” she asked, shading her eyes. “I don’t see anything…”

“Distance doesn’t really work like that here, and we could move way, way faster if we were both dead. But it’s pretty damn far.”

She sighed.

He had to give Lydia Deetz this: she was a trooper. She was wearing a dress, and boots that were very much not made for walking, but she kept moving, eyes forward, not a single complaint. When her stomach growled like an angry guard dog, she held her head high and acted like she didn’t notice.

“OK, time for a break!” he said.

“No!” she said. “We have to keep going.”

“If you keep going like this, you’re going to collapse, and then you’ll die, and a sandworm will eat you, and that’s my whole day gone. Sit down.”

“I don’t need to.”

She was going to give him grey hairs, she really was. He shook one hand like he was shooing a fly, and she stumbled backwards until she sat on the closest rock.

Lydia’s eyes bugged. “What am I – what are you –?”

“You’ve never been possessed before?”

She stood back up. He waved his hand again, and she sat.

“No, keep it up,” he said. “This is fun.”

He flicked his fingers, and her expression brightened.

“Beetlejuice, you’re my role model!” she said, in a tone much more chipper than any that had ever come out of her mouth, he was sure. He released her.

Lydia’s face soured like old milk mixed with lemon juice, and she made the fingers-down-the-throat gesture. “I’ll sit for five minutes. Don’t do that again.”

“I always knew I’d make a great babysitter!” He settled on the other side of the rock. He folded his hands over his stomach, figuring he’d take a nap if she stayed quiet.

She didn’t. “My mom would love all this,” Lydia said. “Her favorite holiday was Halloween. We’d make our own haunted houses in the garage – but in the summer, when no one in the neighborhood was expecting it. She liked the weird stuff in the world. Or – she likes the weird stuff in the world. She doesn’t just avoid it, like most people do. Like my dad does. I think she’ll like you, even.”

He wanted to make a face at the idea of a well-adjusted person liking him (though it was a nice feeling, deep in his black heart), but Lydia couldn’t see him, so it would be wasted effort.

She was quiet for a while, and he thought he was free to drift off to sleep.

“Um…do you have any food?” she asked.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handful of Zagnuts. He tossed the kid two. “Here ya go.”

“Why so many Zagnuts?” Lydia asked. “They’re good, but I didn’t think people ate these anymore.”

“It’s the only candy in the vending machines in the Netherworld.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because everything around here is at a baseline of low-grade crappiness. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Are you really supposed to spend eternity here when you die?” she asked, in a muffled way that told him she’d bitten off half a candy bar at once. “It seems like it should either be a whole lot better or a whole lot worse.”

“You aren’t supposed to spend eternity here; that’s the point,” he said. He popped a Zagnut into his mouth, and swallowed it wrapper and all. “You have to move on, eventually.”

“To what?”

“Do I look like a priest? Or a philosopher? Or a TV psychic?”

“The last one, a little. A bad one. The kind who gets tricked by reporters to help contact their dead kid, but it turns out the kid is really alive and just in the next booth over in the Denny’s.”

“Touché. The point is, nobody around here knows. You hang around the administrative area until you’re ready to go into the miserable nothingness of the Abyss, and then you swirl around in the Abyss until…I dunno, something else happens. Maybe you just stay in the Abyss forever. I don’t plan on finding out anytime soon.”

“Is that where my mom is?”

“Yup. If she didn’t come running when you first came through the door, she’s definitely gone through security. Don’t worry, though. You poke your head into the Abyss and shout her name a few times, and she’ll come right out.”

He lied easily. He always had.

“I’m just surprised she hasn’t tried to contact us,” Lydia said. “I guess she must be confused, because we moved and everything. My dad dragged me out to Connecticut, away from New York and all our friends and family, to work on this stupid gated community project he has in mind. And he took my annoying life coach with us. She’s friendly and positive, and keeps trying to make me fill out a star chart. I don’t know why he thinks she’s helping me. It’s not like there aren’t actual therapists in Connecticut. I don’t get it.”

He chewed another Zagnut for a beat, waiting to see if she was making a joke. Then he broke the news. “Your dad is boinking the life coach.”

“What?!” she said. She whirled around the rock to sit right next to him. “How can you know that?”

“Um, because I’m an adult with a brain.” He grabbed the top of his head and lifted his skull to show his grey matter.

“He isn’t…Dad’s not…” She slumped. “He’s totally sleeping with her.”

“Totally,” he agreed.

“How could he do that? Mom’s only been dead a few months. Well…when he sees Mom – if he just talks to her again – he’ll understand what an ass he’s been.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, non-committedly.

“How much farther do we have?” she asked.

“Long enough to aaaaaaalmost make you give up and collapse in despair.”

She groaned.

For a second, he thought her groan was superhumanly long and loud, and he prepared to be impressed. Then he noticed the ground was shaking.

“Looks like it’s our unlucky day!” he said. “Run!”

They both got to their feet, and made it about five steps before the sand exploded to their left. A sandworm rose from the earth, its black-and-white stripes blurring into grey. At the peak of its jump, its inner head came out of its mouth, eyes glaring, jaw snapping.

It dove back down toward them.

He dodged one way, and Lydia dodged the other. The spray of sand blocked out everything, and when it all cleared, the sandworm had risen from the ground again, undulating in and out of the dunes. Lydia stood in place, looking all around. But it was hard to know where to run when you were being attacked by a sandworm.

The sandworm’s chomping heads came out of the ground an arm’s length from Lydia. She yelled, and punched it in the closest eye.

The heads hissed and thrashed, knocking Lydia down. The sandworm dove down, and the sand around them whirled and roiled, until he felt like he was standing in boiling dirt.

When the sandworm rose again, it accidentally scooped up Lydia. She showed a little more survival instinct than she had before, and clung to the sandworm’s back.

“Knock it off!” he heard her say. She nudged the sandworm with her left boot, and the sandworm turned to the right. But it had had enough of its passenger, and whipped its body to throw Lydia like a beanbag.

She shrieked as she fell through the air. He stretched his legs, about 20 feet, and caught her.

As he dragged her back to the ground, he braced himself for another attack by the sandworm. Maybe if he transformed into something big and scary, showed some lionfish spines or extra limbs, the worm would leave them alone. Getting swallowed would be no good. Not only did he usually try to avoid getting eaten, but sandworms’ digested prey just wound up back in processing…after a wait of at least a decade or so.

The sandworm jumped over their heads, dove into the ground, and kept going. Its writhing body upset every dune it plowed through, but it didn’t double back.

He wasn’t going to look a gift worm in the mouth.

“And don’t come back!” he yelled. “G’on, git! Git!”

Lydia jumped out of his arms. “That was awesome! I thought I was going to die, but it was awesome.”

He was more tired than he’d been in a while. He was tired like Juno had been screaming at him for hours. Also, there was a lot of sand in his shoes. “You did OK But why the hell did you try to punch it in the face?”

She didn’t look ashamed in the slightest. “I thought it would be like avoiding a shark attack. That’s what the Discovery guy said during Shark Week: punch the shark hard in the eye so it leaves you alone.”

“Since when has punching something made it leave you alone?” he asked. “That has never worked when I’ve tried it with people.”

“Because then the shark – or the sandworm – thinks you’re too much of a threat and it ignores you. I made it go away, didn’t I?’

“I seriously doubt you’re what made it leave, Karate Kid. If a sandworm had its multiple hearts set on eating us, it would take more than your mechanical bull riding skills to dissuade it. I don’t know – I’m not so sure it was all that interested in us.”

“If it wasn’t going for us, why did it come over here?”

“I said I don’t know! I’m not a sandworm scientist.”

“Your hair is changing color,” she said, pointing at his head.

“Can you blame me? I’m pretty pissed off right now.”

She brightened. “It changes color with your mood?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I touch it?”

He grunted, and tilted his head. She patted some strands on the right side of his head, which were dark green at the tips, but probably working their way to red. The cocoon the caterpillar had made behind his ear popped open, and a death’s-head hawkmoth shot into the air and planted itself on Lydia’s nose.

“Augh!” she yelped, and fell right on her ass. He doubled over laughing while she tried to get back up with dignity.

“You’ve taken things too far this time, Beetlejuice!”

Once, just once, he’d like to go 48 hours without hearing those words shouted at him.

He turned to see Miss Argentina stomping up a sand dune, clipboard in hand, sash askew, which meant she was really really really upset.

“What have I done this time?” he asked, resigned.

“What have you done this time?” Miss Argentina pointed at Lydia. “Let’s start with child endangerment! And the fact that your disappearance has about given Juno apoplexy.”

“Ah, she loves me.”

“No! She just knows that if she hasn’t heard from you in twelve hours, it means you’re up to something! And that means the rest of us suffer! I’m just glad she gave me clearance to go to Saturn to look for your sorry, sagging ass, so at least I was able shoo a sandworm away from some newlydeads. I have a sneaking suspicion you bear some responsibility for that, too?”

“OK, that is both not fair and completely true,” he said. “And I’ll have you know I’m doing a good deed. I’m guiding this one around the Netherworld.” He jerked his head at Lydia.

“And why, in the name of all that is sacred, would you consider that a good idea?”

“Um…” He faltered. He may have been able to fudge a few details with Lydia, but Miss Argentina had been around long enough to know how the Abyss worked.

“Newlydeads…” Lydia said. “That must have been what attracted the sandworm. It wasn’t coming for us after all.”

“Why did you drag newlydeads with you?” he asked, happy to change the subject. “What, did you need help shouting at me? Anger backup singers?”

“Of course not.” Miss Argentina frowned. “But – that’s a good idea.” She clicked her pen, and scribbled on her clipboard. “I am actually writing that down. If Boy Inferno is free…”

“Excuse me!” came a woman’s voice from the bottom on the dune. “I’m so sorry – could you wait just a minute?”

“It’s very hard to walk on sand!” came a sexy, nasal male voice from the same direction.

“These newlydeads have a problem, you see,” said Miss Argentina, her voice icy. But something was wrong – she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on Lydia. “Apparently, a living person used their Handbook without permission.”

Lydia became interested in the horizon. “Huh. That’s weird.”

Miss Argentina jabbed a finger in Lydia’s face. “Oh, don’t even try that on me, living girl. I am not in the mood today.”

“Whoof! We made it.” The newlydead couple crested the dune…and he was smitten.

The woman was white, a pretty blonde, in a green wrap dress and suburban-mom-at-the-nice-grocery-store boots. Her companion was a beautiful Desi man, with light brown skin and a lock of black hair hanging over his forehead that he immediately wanted to run his fingers through.

“Oooooh…” he said. “Hello, sexy…”

Lydia looked at him with a scientific expression. “Which one?”

“The Trader Joe’s guardian angels over here. Not that Miss A isn’t pretty easy on the eyes herself, but she’s a friend of Ellen, know what I mean? A patron of U-Haul. An adopter of shelter cats. Wrong tree, is what I’m saying. But she loves me platonically.”

“She doesn’t,” Miss Argentina said.

The couple pushed past him and bent over Lydia.

“Oh, thank goodness!” the woman said.

“Lydia!” said the man. “I’m so glad we found you. We were worried sick!”

“Adam, Barbara?” Lydia said. “What…what are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to go to the Netherworld.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #lydia deetz #fan fiction

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ilu-writes · 5 years

Text

Happy Halloween!

A Solangelo One-shot

AO3 | FF.net

A long-ish one shot about Will and Nico’s first Halloween as a couple. Also, yeah, I’m barely getting this in, but really, what’s spookier than nearly missing a deadline?

“Happy Halloween!”

Will frowned down at the notes he was writing for a second, before putting the pen down and turning to look at his boyfriend.

“It’s… September. First.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“It’s not Halloween. It’s barely fall.” Will shifted around slightly so he was actually facing Nico, leaning back against the desk as he assessed him. “Why are you bugging me about Halloween now?”

Nico’s expression shifted into one of mock pain, and he folded his arms. “September is basically Halloween-“

“It’s really not-“

“Wow.” He tilted his head up as though he’d been offended. “Fine. I get it. You hate me and you hate Halloween-“

“Woah, hey, I don’t hate Halloween,” Will injected quickly, holding up his hands, trying to keep a smile from stretching across his face. “Halloween’s great! When it’s not in September.”

“Just me, then,” huffed Nico, before flopping down dramatically onto the chair next to Will. “I can’t believe this. I came all the way over here for this.”

Will hummed and let the smile win, nudging at his boyfriends leg with his foot. “Why did you come over here? Just to unseasonably wish me a happy Halloween?”

“It’s not unseasonal,” countered Nico, scowling still, but Will could tell by his eyes he didn’t mean it. “I was being a good boyfriend.”

“Hm.” Will moved his foot so it was fully resting against Nico’s leg. The contact felt more grounding than it probably should’ve – he missed his boyfriend a lot when they both had their own activities to deal with. “Finished early for the day, huh?”

Nico shrugged dismissively, but the glint in his eye and slight twitch of his mouth told Will he’d hit the nail on the head. “Pegasi don’t like me. I think Chiron’s given up trying to force them to- he just let me off early. Not that that has anything to do with me coming here.”

Will grinned. “No, of course not,” he agreed. “But since you’re here, I’m hoping you won’t mind keeping me company? I still need to finish this.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at his notes.

“I suppose. If you don’t mind me bugging you, that is.”

Will snorted softly and leaned forward to press a quick cheek against the other boy’s cheek. “I think I’ll live,” he said as he moved away, trying not to focus on Nico’s slightly-pink cheeks. “Especially if you explain why you’re so eager to celebrate Halloween.”

Nico tilted his chin towards his chest. Since they’d been more open with their relationship, Nico had started appreciating PDA more, but he still sometimes got a little flustered by it when he wasn’t expecting it.

Nico was way too cute for his own good.

“Halloween is fun,” he mumbled, and it took Will a second to realise he was answering his question. Focus, he reminded himself. “It’s a whole holiday dedicated to ghosts and candy. It’s great.”

“It’s dedicated to other stuff, too,” pointed out Will. “Witches. Vampire. W... other general monsters,” he amended, quickly. Nico had expressed a vehement dislike for werewolves since his encounter with Lycaon – not that Will could blame him – but the other boy either didn’t pick up on his slip up or didn’t care.

“Sure, but ghosts are the best part. And-“ Nico held up his hand and wiggled his fingers, “they’re the only part that really matters to me. Along side the candy.”

“Sure, that’s fair.” Will smiled as he turned back to his notes. “Doesn’t justify celebrating in September, though-“

“I-“

“Do you even like pumpkin?”

Nico paused for a second, seeming to consider. “I don’t think I’ve ever had pumpkin,” he noted, sounding surprised by the fact. “But I’m sure I will.”

“Don’t be,” said Will, dryly. “Pumpkin sucks. It tastes like sweet potato.”

“I have no idea what a sweet potato tastes like either, but I thought everyone loved pumpkin? Isn’t that why you get so many festive drinks around this time?”

“Around October, maybe-“ Will ignored Nico’s eyeroll here- “but that’s not pumpkin, it’s pumpkin spice. It’s got nothing to do with pumpkin. And also, that does taste good – it’s like an amalgamation of lot’s of spices. Also, how can you not know what a sweet potato tastes like?”

“Why is it called pumpkin spice if there’s no pumpkin?”

“I don’t know, to make it seasonal? Because no one likes actual pumpkin?” Will shrugged. “It’s just one of those things. Also, you didn’t answer my question-“

“It’s an incredibly dumb thing-“

“Nico, seriously-“ Will put his pen back down – he’d only written about three more lines so far – and turned to give him an incredulous look. “How can you not know what a sweet potato tastes like?”

Nico blinked. “I guess they aren’t that popular?” He offered. “I’ve never had one.”

“There’s no way you’ve never eaten a sweet potato,” said Will, giving the smallest shake of his head. “You’re telling me you’ve never had sweet potato pie? Sweet potato anything?”

“Nope.”

“I refuse to believe that.” Will stared at him, dumbfounded for a second, then leaned forward.

His work ended up getting done much later that day, but the Sweet Potato Debate would end up being a notable moment in their relationship for years to come, so it evened out.

Normally, Nico wouldn’t care about spending the day on his own – a few years ago, he would’ve preferred it. Sometimes he still did.

But other days… he blamed Will. The blonde’s need to be around people was starting to rub off on him. Or at least, the need to be around one specific person.

When Nico was feeling more stubborn, he’d insist that his frequent visits to Will were more for the other boy’s sake than his, and that he just wanted his boyfriend not to be alone, even to himself. He never believed it, but he never needed to.

He lasted until mid-afternoon before the boredom became too much to bear, and he hurled himself out of his bed. Will would still be at the infirmary, but it was October, they didn’t have a lot of campers around, so he should be free. Free enough for Nico to bug him, anyway, and that was all he needed.

The infirmary was almost completely empty bar one person, almost completely hidden as they crouched behind a cabinet door, only their mop of familiar golden hair visible over the top. Nico slowed his walk as he entered, trying to look suave, and moved so he could see the other boy.

“Happy Halloween,” he said as brightly as possible, echoing his statement from earlier that month.

Wil jumped slightly but then whipped around, a grin already forming on his face. “It’s still September,” he pointed out immediately, straightening up. “Hi.”

“Hi,” echoed Nico, shoving his hands in his pockets and trying to supress his smile as he walked forward. “Still hate Halloween, huh?”

“We’ve been through this. It’s not Halloween I hate.” Will dropped the box of band aids he was holding onto the side in favour of tugging Nico towards him. He was unnaturally warm for late September. Nico hated it.

“Right, I forgot. It’s just me,” he huffed lightly, relaxing into the other boy and letting the heat seep into him.

Will snorted gently, tucking his arms around the other boy. Nico didn’t often seek out physical contact, but he was okay with it sometimes, and Will’s constant attempts to respect his boundaries had done wonders for making him more comfortable with it. Still, he’d sooner die than have anyone else see him like this.

He was so distracted he almost missed what Will was saying.

“-the unseasonal-ness of it all that gets me, I said that.”

“A good boyfriend wouldn’t care about that. Also, it’s not unseasonable. Halloween is literally around the corner.”

“It’s over a month away-“

“My point stands.”

Will pressed his cheek against Nico’s head and let out a soft laugh, sending a thrill of pleasure through the other boy. “Look, I get the ghost thing-“

“And the candy thing,” Nico reminded him, swallowing hard. He didn’t have to see Will to know he was rolling his eyes.

“And the candy thing, but- it’s not even October yet. It’s too early for this.”

“It’s nearly October,” huffed Nico. “That counts-“

“The Halloween candy hasn’t even gone on sale yet. No where is selling costumes. I haven’t seen a single pumpkin or fake cobweb in any shop I’ve been to-“

“Okay, but how many shops is that anyway?” Countered Nico, immediately. “You’re in camp most of the time. So, what, you’re using two or three shops as a basis for the entire country-“

“I know for a fact shops don’t start selling Halloween stuff until October-“

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” decided Nico, changing tact. “I don’t judge time by capitalist movements-“

“Oh, gods-“ Will laughed again, his breath hot on Nico’s neck, and the other boy tried not to blush. “First of all, you’ve been spending too much time with Lou Ellen. Second, what, you don’t need to funnel your stubbornness into staying alive anymore so you’re using it to try and annoy me?”

“I’m not being stubborn,” muttered Nico, his voice quiet. “And it’s not my fault you find facts annoying-“

“Oh-“ Will dragged out the sound into a moan, burying his face fully in Nico’s shoulder. Nico swallowed again. “I don’t have time to debate this with you,” he said, his voice muffled but tinged with amusement. “I’m a busy person. I’m a doctor.”

“I get it, too busy for me,” said Nico airily, trying to keep his voice even. “What’s a doctor without patients, anyway?”

“Is that your way of asking what I’m doing?” Will straightened up and kissed his cheek before letting his arms drop. Nico tried not to shiver at the sudden cold. “I’m doing inventory for the month.”

“Anything I can help with?” Asked Nico instinctively, turning to face the other (very close) boy.

Will looked thoughtful. “I guess you could write the numbers down as I count them?” He phrased it like a question, like he expected Nico to say no.

“Sounds fun,” said Nico immediately, and Will snorted in response.

“Yeah, it’s a hoot,” he agreed, grinning. “But it’s necessary.”

And it’s both of us, Nico wanted to add, but he didn’t. He didn’t need to.

Will turned towards the infirmary door instinctively as he heard footsteps coming towards it, even though he didn’t have to. He knew who it was immediately – Nico had taken a short trip to Camp Jupiter over the start of October, and he’d promised he’d stop by as soon as he got back.

Which was today.

Besides, no one else ever came to the infirmary after dark – on the off chance something did happen, they went to Chiron first, and he had a distinct and unmistakable gait.

Will positioned himself directly in front of the door and grinned as it swung open.

“Happy Halloween!” He said brightly, a laugh bubbling up in his chest as he took in his boyfriend for the first time in almost a week. He only just saw Nico’s expression go from startled to mock-offended before he hurled himself at the other boy, eliciting a soft oof. “I missed you,” Will mumbled, wrapping him in a hug.

“I cannot believe you stole my line,” said Nico, returning the gesture, not seeming too caught off guard.

“I figured I can’t use the ‘it’s September’ line now that it’s actually October, so this was all I had left.”

“And you yanked it out of my unexpecting hands,” said Nico, as if he was surprised and disappointed, but then he tucked his face into the crook of Will’s neck. “I missed you, too.”

“Your nose is cold,” Will mumbled in response, and Nico let out a breathy laugh.

“You’re just warm-“

“It’s cause you’re cold blooded.” Will pulled back a little. “Come inside properly. It’s freezing.”

“I repeat, you’re just warm,” countered Nico, but he came in anyway, grinning. “Since you’re now admitting it’s Halloween-“

“It’s not Halloween, it’s just seasonal-“ Will corrected him, but Nico rolled his eyes.

“Since you’ve decided to stop being a spoil sport- does that mean we can start celebrating?”

“Well, actually-“ Will tried not to focus to much on how Nico’s eyes lit up when he was excited- “I was going to mention that- the Hermes cabin is going to throw a Halloween party this year, with permission from Chiron and everything- well, I think the permission came mostly from Mr D, but y’know- they’re throwing a party,” he finished kind of lamely. Nico blinked, seeming to take a second to process it.

Will was about to add that Nico didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to, but the other boy spoke just as the words reached his tongue. “A party sounds… good,” he said, a little uncertainly, and Will couldn’t help but feel a flair of happiness. He knew Nico wasn’t great with crowds, or people in general, but he also knew he was trying, which was really the best Will could hope for.

He’d settle for Nico just becoming okay with it while still avoiding it. He just hated the fact Nico got anxious. He wanted him to be comfortable all the time, however unrealistic that was.

“You don’t have to stay long,” he hurried to add, hoping he wasn’t putting too much pressure on. “Not if you don’t want to. Besides, it’s a costume party, it’s not a lot of people’s thing anyway, so-“

“I want to go,” insisted Nico, his voice gentle. “It could be fun. It can’t be awful, anyway, not while we’re still at camp. But, uh- costume party, huh?”

“You can have a really low effort costume,” offered Will. “Like, a hoodie with the words ‘I’m a serial killer’ on it or something, one of those boring… easy ones.”

“Hm,” said Nico, thoughtfully, before waving off the concerns. “I’ll find a costume later,” he decided, stepping forward to tug at Will’s sleeve. “We can discuss it some other time if you want. But- I missed you.”

“Ah,” said Will, eloquently, stumbling towards the other boy. He steadied himself and instead leaned down to press his lips against Nico’s. “I missed you too.”

“Is that red syrup? Please tell me it’s syrup,” said Will as soon as Nico opened the door, taking in Nico’s costume. Nico just cocked an eyebrow and stepped out the way so Will could get in. “Seriously,” said the blonde, “that’s realistic.”

“Thanks,” said Nico, letting the door swing shut behind them. “You look great, by the way.”

Will grinned at the compliment. “Thanks, it took a while to throw this together,” he said, his voice full of mock seriousness. He was dressed as a doctor, wearing his usual scrubs but actually obeying medical regulations for possible the first time, completed with a stethoscope and a pair of sneakers.

“I can tell,” said Nico, a smile twitching at his own lips. “So, how do I look?” He held his arms out as if to emphasise his outfit. Will leaned back and pretend to contemplate it for a few seconds before answering.

“Honestly? I can’t tell the difference. This is just what you look like most days- blood aside, obviously,” he deadpanned, but he was always terrible at hiding his amused expression.

Still, Nico played along, huffing dramatically. “Wow. Why am I doing this with you again?”

“I don’t know, I was expecting to have to do a lot more convincing-“ Will cut himself off as he gave up trying to act serious, and instead tugged Nico closer by the arm. “Seriously, though, you look good.”

“Thanks,” said Nico mildly, stepping closer to him. He was going as a vampire, in black clothes (that wasn’t hard), fake fangs and dramatic ‘blood’ stains. It had taken him longer to put together than he’d ever admit, but he’d wanted to make the effort for Will. “Are we doing this party or not?”

“Sure,” said Will, linking their arms together. “But, just in case we want to leave early, I’ve got some candy in Cabin 7 we can raid-“

“I am way ahead of you,” interrupted Nico, waving his hand towards one of the shelves behind the door. When Will turned around, he saw a pile of candy probably bigger than the whole Cabin 7 one propped up there, clearly waiting to be opened, and let out a short bubble of laughter.

“Great minds think alike, I guess,” he said, tugging Nico even closer.

“Also hungry ones,” Nico noted, but he was grinning. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

The party was already in full swing when they walked in, which, to be fair, still wasn’t much. The music was loud, and the lights had been turned down as low as they could go without leaving them in darkness, but people were mostly just clumped around in groups, sipping on non-alcoholic drinks. People - meaning, the Hermes Cabin – had figured out pretty quickly that alcohol was impossible to sneak into the camp, because the barrier wouldn’t let it past. Presumably thanks to Mr D’s unwilling sobriety.

Will privately suspected Nico could probably get some in, if asked, since he seemed to be able to sneak past the barrier every other time he shadow travelled, but it was a suspicion he kept to himself.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Will was pulled away by Lou Ellen and Cecil to talk to them, and Nico shot him a quick grin before slinking off towards the drinks and food. Will knew that no one would mind if Nico joined them, but the other boy was very stubborn about the fact that Will should get to spend some alone time with his friends without feeling bad, which Will appreciated.

Still, it meant he had to wave off the usual questions about his relationship before they got to the actual conversation – Cecil talking about their ‘heist’ to go get food from the nearest shop.

“Yeah, but you paid, right?” Asked Will, raising his eyebrow as Cecil described the struggle to be subtle while doing it with only three people to carry food.

The other boy rolled his eyes. “Yes, we paid,” he huffed. “Honestly. You stereotype the Hermes kids too much. We’re not all thieves.”

“You’ve tried to pick pocket me at least three times,” Will pointed out, and Cecil just scoffed.

“Only three?” Repeated Lou, raising an eyebrow.

“That I know of,” amended Will, grinning.

“Water under the bridge,” said Cecil, waving his hand. “Seriously. That’s behind me. I’m a new man.”

“Right,” said Will, letting the disbelief enter his tone, and Lou raised an eye brow.

“And who, exactly, was it who pranked the latest Iris kid by stealing their pants while they were changing?”

“Okay, hey-“ Cecil held up his hands. “Pants don’t count, alright, they’re fair game for pranks-“

“Everything is fair game for pranks, according to you,” retorted Will, letting his eyes flicker around the room. Austin was in the corner, talking to two of the Demeter kids, and Will could see his guitar propped against the wall nearby. He knew that, at some point, Austin would pretend to be modest and flattered before grabbing the guitar and playing at least three pre-prepared pieces, like he always did. In a way, the ritual was comforting.

“Well, I’m a child of Hermes, what do you expect?” Huffed Cecil, and Will turned back to raise an eyebrow.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to stereotype?”

“You’re not. I can.” Cecil folded his arms, his drink sloshing out of his cup. “There’s a difference.”

“Right,” said Will flatly, before twisting to look at the snack table. “No offence, but I need a drink-“

“And a boyfriend?” Interrupted Lou, raising her eyebrow. Will ignored her.

“And maybe some food, so if you don’t mind-“

He excused himself as politely as possible, slipping through the crowd. He got stopped briefly by Drew Tanaka, who complimented his costume and joked that it must’ve been hard. He returned the compliment without the joke – it was a valid one, and Drew probably wouldn’t like it being deflected back. Besides, he didn’t know the singer she was clearly dressed as, so he kept it vague and moved past her.

He got stopped twice more, once by Katie Gardner, who kept him talking for a few minutes, and once by Damian White, for a little less time. By the time he managed to make it to the snack table, Nico was talking to Clovis, who looked seconds away from collapsing.

Still, that was generally how Clovis looked.

Will helped himself to a Diet Coke before he went over to join them, and Clovis nodded at him.

“We were discussing dreams,” he said, he voice sounding thick and distant. “And the in…” he trailed off, looking briefly confused.

“The intersections of them?” Supplied Nico, lightly, and Clovis snapped his fingers.

“Yes. Yes! The intersections. The Hypnos Cabin- we’re very loud. It’s confusing.”

“It’s fine,” said Nico, with a shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Still,” Clovis shrugged. “Dreams are weird.”

“That they are,” said Will, who was unsure of how to join the conversation, and Nico shot him a wry grin as Clovis yawned.

“Anyway,” said the son of Hypnos, “I should get going. I have more people to see before I go back to sleep.”

“Right,” said Nico, before turning fully to Will as the other boy left. “Good to see you survived,” he grinned.

“What can I say? It’s my magnetic personality.” Will smiled, sipping his drink. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. They have really good food here. And Clovis… well, Clovis is Clovis, but he’s fine.”

“Good,” Will bumped his shoulder gently. “I didn’t know you and Clovis were friends.”

“Well, more unwitting acquaintances more often than we try, but- it’s complicated, I guess?” Nico shrugged. “I’ll explain it later, probably – a children of the night thing. But yeah.”

“’Children of the night’?” Repeated Will, snorting. “Sorry, now you’re sounding like a real vampire.”

“Oh, shut up,” scoffed Nico, but he grinned.

They spent the next hour being pulled into random conversations with campers, most of which involved Nico hanging back, and stealing moments to talk between themselves when no one was nearby. Each conversation seemed to take them a little further away from the snack table (which Will pretended not to see Nico eyeing hungrily with every step, despite the bowl of Cheezo’s he still held), and when Will glanced around at one point, he realised they’d nearly made it to the door.

“Hey, a bat,” he observed, looking above them, a smirk already tugging at his lips. “Better kiss me under it.”

“Nice try,” hummed Nico, “but no.”

“You’re no fun.” Will pouted, but he still brushed his fingers against Nico’s as he leaned against the wall.

“You want kisses, hang mistletoe.”

“I mean, I could arrange that-“

“No.” Nico’s voice was firm, but he was grinning. “Look, we could always head back to my cabin- I have snacks-“

“Are you trying to kidnap me?” Asked Will, threading their hands together properly. “My mother always said not to trust anyone offering free candy.”

“Well, if you don’t trust me-“

“I never said that,” interrupted Will, already tugging Nico towards the door. “Come on. I want candy. And quiet, so we can talk properly.”

Nico laughed, but let himself be tugged back to the Hades cabin. As soon as they entered, Will pulled him into a kiss, supressing a wince at the coldness of the other boy’s nose.

Nico’s hand tangled in the front of Will shirt, holding him in place while his other hand fumbled about the light switch. A few seconds later, the torches on the wall flared to life, and Nico broke the kiss with a sharp laugh.

“Hang on, I was promised candy for this-“ he began, still giggling, but Will cut him off by twisting away and smoothly pulling the candy off the shelf in one movement.

“Here,” he said, tossing it on the bed. “Candy acquired. Now-“

Nico cut him off with a soft peck on the lips. “I thought you wanted to talk?”

Will considered for a second. That was an unfair statement, mainly because it was true. “Yes,” he conceded after a second, considering. “But- first, kissing. Kissing and then blankets and then talking, because it’s cold.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Nico, tugging the blonde down for another kiss.

#solangelo #solangelo fanfic #nico di angelo #will solace #halloween fic #my works

57 notes · View notes

cannotgiveafuck · 5 years

Text

Shazam Week Prompt 2

I'm a day late and expect to do again, but I'm not quitting!

Heres prompt 2: Holidays

Halloween had always been one of Billy's favorite holidays.

Before he was Captain Marvel, he would spend the day at the Fawcett Park Market, getting his face painted in preparation for trick-or-treating. The amount of candy he snagged would last him weeks, even far into December if he controlled himself.

Before he managed to permanently escape from his Uncle Ben, Billy enjoyed Halloween for the chance it gave him to be far away from the man. At least for the night. When he returned, he'd always have to hide a majority of his stash in his room, lest his uncle throw his entire loot into the garbage.

Ever since becoming the Champion of Magic, however, Billy found no time for Halloween shenanigans anymore. He had a responsibility to uphold, civilians to watch over, monitor duty to attend.

Billy Batson wasn't a kid anymore.

"What do you mean, you're not going out? You're thirteen years old! Go throw eggs and TP at some old tosser's house, get sick from too much candy, and all of that!"

Billy didn't know where to begin, everything about what he'd said was just...wrong. "John, I'm twelve. And I'm on patrol tonight. Do you know how bad it would be if the League found out I… egged someone's house? I'd be toast!"

But the thought of throwing rotten eggs at his Uncle Ebenezer's house brought on a joy he was ashamed to acknowledge.

On the other side of the mirror, Constantine took a long, contemplative drag of his cigarette. "Do you realize how mad what you just said was? You're twelve and you've got patrol for what? Fawcett? The entire bloody world?"

The familiar heat of indignation, of embarrassment, flared at his cheeks. "So what?"

When he sighed, smoke obscured part of his features, but his blue eyes - clear and crisp and so much deeper than others gave credit for - pinned Billy to his spot. It was an accusing stare. A look that challenged Billy, doubted him, was filled with more condescension than John's words could imitate. It was a look plenty of adults gave plenty of kids when they did something particularly exhausting.

Billy hated that look.

He also knew that John hated the League, that Billy was even part of the League. Against all opinions of him, John was actually quite soft for children, became rather protective and reckless for them. Billy knew John thought of him as a child, heck, the magician looked out for him well enough, and Billy appreciated it, really he did. But…

"Know much about the spirit world and Hallow's Eve?" John asked, thankfully diverting the subject. At Billy's head shake, he continued. "The veil between alive, dead, and undead becomes thin, nearly open. All the planes of existence sync up. Get the most supernatural activity around that time. And I know the lot of em throw one killer of a ball."

Immediately, Billy had perked up, always interested in learning more about the magical community. But at the mention of a party filled with paranormal creatures?

Billy knew the glee on his face was evident as John chuckled.

"Unless, of course," he added, tone teasing, "you're too busy patrolling."

Ah, crap.

[[MORE]]

-x-

"Are you sure this will work?" Billy asked as he looked at John's handiwork. It was impressive and amazing, and Billy never got tired of seeing magic in action.

"C'mon now, lad, trust me here," he said with a face that did not at all look like John Constantine.

"It's not that I don't trust you, exactly…"

They were currently in New York City, strolling down an alleyway that John was very certain lead into their destination. As they got ready earlier in the day, he had explained that the ball was a public affair, a yearly celebration that warranted total truce once entered. No murderous or underhanded conflict permitted on the property. The event was hosted by an affluent influence within the magical or supernatural community, though it took the effort of some key abilities to pull it off, to ensure the location was safe and secure.

However, just because there was no guest list didn't mean anyone could waltz on in. Unless they were a plus one, a regular human or extraterrestrial could not enter the compound. Afterall, there was still so much that neither knew or understood about the world, about Earth and her inhabitants and patrons from all walks of existence. Only those immersed in the community and its secrets could be trusted to attend.

Though, Billy was unsure how solid a definition of trust that they used.

And then there were certain individuals or groups on a blacklist. No matter if they had attended before or were invited by someone going - once someone was banned, it took a great deal of influence to be welcomed back.

That is, unless someone was clever and crafty enough at magical tricks to sneak in.

Someone like the infamous and definitely blacklisted John Constantine.

"Think of it like any other Halloween party, yeah? Some folks go as themselves and that's fine, but boring, honestly, and others wear costumes. Nobody's gonna rip off someone's mask, right?" John smiled with far too many sharp teeth, with a face that was not his own. "That's how glamour is around these ilk."

It made sense, sure. But still, Billy couldn't help but feel...weird. Don't get him wrong, it was exciting getting to join in on this adventure, but looking into the mirror and instead of seeing himself, or even Captain Marvel, he saw a strange creature. It was creepy.

Once John applied the glamour dust, Billy used his own magic to shape what he wanted to appear as - an aesthetic look inspired by his own Feyr.

With Tawny's help, Billy became a tiger themed witch boy. Pointed ears and a gliding tail, sharp fangs and claws, wild hair and catlike eyes, a magically fitted black suit with striped markings that followed onto his skin, and eerie blood splatter across his hands and face - Billy so wanted to wear this for other Halloween parties.

(He doesn't actually believe he'd ever get the chance, but well, one could dream.)

Though, he admitted, he was sort of jealous of John's glamour. A full transformation into a stylishly decorated demon - large horns, full black eyes, fancy clothing and a grand colorful coat. He looked really, really cool.

"I could've gone as Marvel, you know. Being an adult seems easier for this," Billy commented. It would have also been safer.

Great adventure aside, Billy wasn't stupid enough to ignore the dangers he was getting into. He may be magical inclined, but Marvel was the Champion of Magic. If things went south, he would prefer to have the Gods on his side. And great costume aside, something about attending a party as a kid, albeit a never aging one, seemed like it was asking for trouble. What if the glamour wasn't enough? What if his magic wasn't enough? What if someone saw right through them and realized Billy really was just a kid? If he got blacklisted from the coolest supernatural party of the year before he even turned eighteen, he would never live it down.

"You telling me that you want the entire place in chaos? That's what the Champion of the Gods would do. Half the party would swarm you for autographs and most likely try to pull you into rooms you do not want to go, and the other half would fall over themselves trying to leave the damn place. Some may even risk breaking the truce to get a piece of you."

"I thought that's what the glamour was for."

"A pretty costume can't hide the fact that he's the Champion of goddamn Magic. His energy alone would blind the lot like a beacon of divine fucking light." John stopped them before they reached a dead end wall practically oozing magical illusion. They kept a good enough distance, though he still lowered his voice. "I know you run with the big superhero league, but his reputation goes farther than you've been flying around in his cape. Near everyone knows about the Ancient Champions and their patron Gods, and half of those know about the Wizard and his lofty seat at the center of all Earthly magic. He's a bloody legend down here, so no shouting for your giant fuckall lightning, alright? You don't need to leave here with a massive target on your forehead."

Well, then. This was news to him.

"It'd be nice if you told me this before, you know, instead of when we are literally walking into the lions den!" Knowing that there could be powerfully magical beings who would want to hurt him… that seemed like important information.

"That's why I told you to stay as a kid, kid," John flicked at his forehead, infuriating and condescending all at once. Which wasn't an uncommon thing, unfortunately.

The response was immediate, Tawny's low rumble, warning John Constantine away.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," he lead them forward and to Billy is felt like walking through a curtain to see what was covered on the other side. "Now, stay within eyesight of me, and don't accept drinks you haven't seen the bartender make. And even then, keep to what you know," John said.

Billy knew what to do, thank you very much. He's had talks with his neighbor Candy, and he's heard older teens whisper at foster homes, and him and Freddy have watched teenage party movies. He knows what to do and unlike John, he doesn't go pissing off every magical being he comes across.

He'll be fine!

-x-

He was not fine.

Billy was very much not fine at all.

He felt sick and nauseous and all he wanted to do was throw up, but he couldn't and that made it worse. Thanks to John's quick thinking, he managed to get them out before Billy's glamour wore off. Though, with how fast John was walking, he was practically dragging Billy along, making the sidewalk blur and the street lights flare painfully.

"That's what you get for accepting a drink from the eternal witch boy," John said, voice teasing. It was salt in Billy's wounds along with everything else right now.

Words seemed to escape him for the moment, so he gagged and spat on the ground at John's feet to let him know how he felt about that.

"Didn't take you for a delinquent," John continued. He sounded more amused and Billy hated it. "Not that I'm judging, mind you. I had my first taste of alcohol when I was ten."

"Didn't know," Billy muffled out. He'd tried beer before, him and Freddy had snuck out with a can each one time. They'd stolen it from one of the foster dad as he lay passed out on the couch. It was the most disgusting thing Billy had ever tasted.

"Yeah, can't blame you there. Mead tastes deceptively sweet. Either way, it was from Klarion and that's where you went wrong."

Okay, he really did not need a lecture right now. It was Halloween and he nearly blew their cover and he may have become an ally to Klarion and they almost got found out by Zatanna and all Billy wanted to do was sleep forever.

Still incapable of words, because talking required thinking and that was not going to happen - Billy groaned.

"No, no sleep yet. Gonna need some water and greasy food first, or you'll be feeling even more like shit come morning. Good thing I know a place and they won't ask questions."

At the mere thought of food, Billy felt his stomach turn and finally threw up. Surprisingly, it made him feel better.

"Hmm. Good thing you don't have monitor duty tomorrow, you're sleeping in. And no patrol, either. Consider it an extended holiday."

Halloween had never been this eventful before, at least at a personal level, but it all honesty, Billy didn't feel an ounce of regret. This was probably his favorite year yet.

Vomiting in the middle of the street excluded.

#shazamweek2019 #shazam #billy batson #john Constantine #fanfic writing #captain marvel #maybe someday ill write about what all went on at the party #im sure it was a hoot #is john a bad influence on billy? yes. does that stop either of them? no.#listen john knows kids will do dumb shit. hes not gonna stop that. hell just be there to laugh

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