#GIANT STEPS hair workshop

[hurtspideyparker]

"What's up small fry?" Tony asks when he catches a blur of red and blue in the corner of his eye.

He continues unscrewing pieces from inside the old car engine at random, deconstructing the machine. Tony looks up at Peter when he gets no reply.

"Pete?"

Peter's hand slips from the door frame, trudging over to Tony across the workshop.

The sun must have gone down without Tony noticing, the only light in the room coming from a few scattered table lamps. Explains all the squinting he's been needing to do anyways. Peter doesn't have his mask on, but his face is too shadowed to read.

"How was patrol? I think someone made dinner, we can heat it up together. Or there's that mac and cheese you like—"

Peter comes closer and doesn't stop until he's crashing into Tony in an all-encompassing embrace. His arms constrict around Tony's waist, face squashed into the older's chest.

"Oh."

Tony looks down at the tuft of gelled curls, a warm sigh leaving Peter's mouth as his body melts into Tony.

Tony's arms jerk to catch the boy, scared he'll simply wash away, but Peter only relaxes further into the hug. Peter secures his grip with an unwavering hold despite the tension that drains from him in a steady stream.

When the hug sustains Tony pulls him closer, tucking his chin over Peter's head and breathing out his own restlessness. One arm rubs up and down Peter's back, thumb drawing a strong pressure into the firm muscle.

They stay like this; Tony's eyes close at some point, their breathing syncing into even exchanges like heart beats. He isn't sure if he should be worried or confused, but all thoughts flit out of his brain at the genuine expression of affection being laid upon him.

It's Peter who lets go first, death grip sliding away until Tony becomes aware enough to unwrap his own self as well.

"Sorry, I just really needed that," the boy mutters.

"Um. No problem."

Peter steps away, and Tony gives him a look up and down. He doesn't seem injured, but a weariness clings to his bones like laundry scent on fresh sheets.

"M'hungry. Can you make the mac n' cheese?"

Normally Tony would refuse, mostly out of the habit of saying 'no' whenever someone asks something of him before he even actually considers it, but Peter's eyes are big and earnest, and he quite possibly has turned Tony into a giant teddy bear with the way he's been appeased and clung to.

"Sure thing. Why don't you go get changed and I'll meet you in the kitchen?"

Tony is plating up the steaming, alarmingly orange food with a side of the lamb chop someone cooked earlier and a peeled clementine when Peter wanders into the room. He's in his signature hello kitty pajama pants and a striped sweater Tony is sure is his girlfriend Michelle's.

He looks a bit better now, simply sleepy instead of dead on his feet, the attempt of usual pep in his step as he comes and lays his head down in his arms on the kitchen table.

Tony places the food in front of him, Peter immediately shoving a spoonful of the pasta into his mouth without picking his head up.

"Fank 'ou."

Tony lets a humorous puff of air out of his nostrils.

"You're welcome, now don't talk with your mouth full," he says while ruffling the boys hair.

He swallows, "your hand smells like oranges."

Tony pilfers a piece of fruit from Peter's plate, taking a seat across from the boy and shooting a brief raise of his eyebrows his way.

"I wonder why."

Peter smiles at him.

He smiles back.

[aspenmissing]

Hello! I love your headcanons and x reader snippets! 😃🥰 Could you maybe do something where the reader is a creative, sweet but tough person who loves large scary sea animals? Especially with Vander or Silco. Silco would make sense since he has all those large fish swimming outside his hideout but I feel it would suit Vander too since he becomes a beast in S2. Anyone else could be read platonically but it would be fun to see Viktor's reaction too 💜💚💛💙🩵❤️

ꜱᴇᴀ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀᴇʀ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 3812 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰɪꜱʜ, ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀꜱ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏᴏᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ - ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ. ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ, ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

The soft hum of machinery filled Jayce's workshop, a comforting rhythm of gears and gentle clinks echoing softly against the stone walls. Moonlight filtered gently through the high windows, casting silvery beams onto cluttered tables covered in blueprints, sketches, and half-finished Hextech prototypes. Jayce leaned over his newest invention, completely absorbed, his brow furrowed as he meticulously tightened the final bolts. He barely registered the gentle knock on the door until a playful voice shattered his deep concentration.

"Working late again?"

Startled, Jayce looked up, his serious expression instantly softening into a warm, affectionate smile at the sight of Y/N leaning casually against the doorway. They wore a slightly oversized coat, sleeves rolled up messily, with an adventurous glint shimmering brightly in their eyes, always brimming with curiosity and daring.

"Couldn't sleep," Jayce admitted, pushing a hand tiredly through his tousled hair, smearing a faint streak of grease across his temple. "Besides, Hextech doesn't build itself."

Y/N chuckled warmly, stepping into the workshop with a familiar ease. They weaved around scattered tools and stacks of books, approaching him gracefully. Their gaze fell curiously upon the newly completed contraption, eyes tracing every delicate and robust detail. "What's this one do?"

Jayce hesitated, feeling an unexpected flush of shyness rise to his cheeks. "It's…well, it's for underwater exploration. You always talk about those giant sea creatures, and I figured—"

"You built something for me?" Y/N interrupted softly, eyes wide and sparkling, a wave of warmth spreading through their chest. Their passion for the ocean—especially its awe-inspiring, intimidating inhabitants—was something Jayce frequently teased them about, though always affectionately.

He nodded sheepishly, ducking his head slightly as he cleared his throat. "You always said you wanted to see a real leviathan up close. Though, honestly, that sounds terrifying to me."

Y/N laughed melodically, closing the distance between them to wrap their arms affectionately around his neck. The gentle scent of sea salt and fresh air lingered on their clothes. "Jayce, you brave soul. Are you actually volunteering to face a sea monster with me?"

He chuckled gently, resting his hands comfortably at their waist, his grip protective yet tender. "Only because I'd rather face my fears beside you than live comfortably without you."

The sincerity in his voice dissolved any playful teasing from Y/N's expression, replacing it with tender warmth. "You're too sweet for your own good."

Jayce smiled softly, gently pressing his forehead to theirs. Their quiet breathing synchronized, mingling warmth between them. "I trust you to protect me from any giant, terrifying sea creatures we encounter."

"Deal," Y/N whispered lovingly, their voice barely above a breath. "I'll always keep you safe."

Jayce stepped back slightly, a gleam of excitement igniting his eyes as he motioned proudly towards his latest creation, newfound enthusiasm evident in his stance. "Come on, let me show you how it works. It has reinforced glass, designed to withstand immense deep-sea pressure, and integrated Hextech lighting strong enough to illuminate even the darkest ocean trenches."

Eagerly, Y/N circled the invention, their fingers gently tracing the smooth contours of polished metal, marvelling at every intricate detail. Each facet of the device was both practical and elegant, a testament to Jayce's skill and meticulous nature. "It's incredible, Jayce. You've truly thought of everything."

Encouraged by their reaction, Jayce grinned broadly. "I even included a state-of-the-art tracking system specifically designed to locate those elusive creatures you've always dreamed of studying."

Y/N’s smile widened, genuine admiration shining brightly in their eyes. "Well then, when do we start this adventure?"

Jayce laughed softly, his confidence bolstered by their infectious enthusiasm. "As soon as you're ready. Tomorrow, even."

"Perfect," Y/N agreed eagerly, reaching out to squeeze his hand gently, the promise of adventure reflected clearly in their gaze. "Tomorrow we face the unknown, together."

The air grew comfortably quiet again, heavy with promise and anticipation. Soft, glowing Hextech filled the workshop with a gentle, blue-tinted radiance, bathing them both in its comforting glow. Surrounded by dreams of unexplored depths and legendary leviathans, they both knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever mysteries lay ahead, they would face them bravely—as long as they faced them together.

VIKTOR

The late afternoon sun poured gently through the stained-glass windows of Viktor's laboratory, casting colorful hues across the stacks of notes, metal scraps, and intricate machinery. Viktor stood hunched slightly over his workbench, his cane resting close by, eyes intensely focused through his magnifying lenses.

"Viktor!" Your voice echoed warmly through the room, drawing his attention immediately. He looked up, adjusting his goggles to better see you standing by the doorway, your vibrant smile bringing brightness even greater than the afternoon sun.

"Ah, Y/N," he replied softly, straightening carefully with his cane in hand. "You've returned from your oceanic adventures already?"

You chuckled lightly, moving toward him, your expression glowing with excitement. "Yes! And you'll never guess what magnificent creature I encountered today."

Viktor tilted his head slightly, intrigued by your passion that always sparked his curiosity. "Another one of your beloved giant sea monsters, perhaps?"

"Precisely! A magnificent leviathan, Viktor! Massive and fierce-looking, yet so graceful. Everyone else was frightened, but I couldn't help but feel awe and fascination." Your eyes sparkled as you spoke, your hands animatedly emphasizing your description.

He smiled faintly, watching your excitement with quiet admiration. Your enthusiasm was infectious, your sweetness apparent even as you recounted your fearless interaction with creatures most would avoid.

"I'm beginning to suspect," he teased gently, "that there's no creature in the ocean frightening enough to deter you."

"Not even close," you replied confidently. "Speaking of creatures—how's your latest invention progressing?"

His gaze softened as he glanced back at his workbench. "Still troublesome, I'm afraid. It lacks your natural ease with formidable beasts."

You reached out, gently placing your hand atop his where it rested on his cane. "Well, perhaps it just needs someone creative, sweet, and a little tough to tame it?"

Viktor chuckled softly, eyes meeting yours warmly. "Indeed, it seems that everything does."

A comfortable silence settled between you, both appreciating the moment. Curiosity soon tugged at your mind, and you tilted your head toward the intricate machinery scattered across the workbench. "What exactly are you working on this time?" you asked gently, eyes tracing over the metallic parts that seemed to pulse softly with Hextech energy.

Viktor's eyes brightened slightly, his passion for discovery shining through. "A device intended to harmonize the human body with Hextech energy," he explained, running a finger carefully along the smooth metal surface. "It could revolutionize medicine, mobility... everything. But the synchronization remains elusive."

Your gaze softened, empathy colouring your features as you regarded his earnest determination. "If anyone can achieve such harmony, Viktor, it's you. Your patience and brilliance never cease to amaze me."

He offered a small, grateful smile, warmth blooming in his chest at your unwavering support. "Your confidence, Y/N, has a way of making even the impossible seem attainable."

"Because it is," you affirmed softly, stepping closer to rest your head briefly against his shoulder. "You're as courageous as any leviathan, Viktor. Perhaps your inventions just need a little more coaxing, much like sea creatures."

He laughed lightly, the sound rich and genuine, causing your heart to flutter. "I believe you may be right. Perhaps we both have much to learn from one another."

"Indeed," you agreed, grinning playfully. "Maybe next time, you'll join me to meet a few of my sea giants?"

His eyebrow arched in amused scepticism, though the softness in his gaze never wavered. "Only if you promise to protect me from their jaws."

You laughed warmly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Always, Viktor."

Together, you stood quietly once more, the lab filled only with the comforting hum of machinery and the warmth of unspoken affection. Both of you, fearless in your own ways—him braving the unknown realms of science, and you venturing into the depths of the vast ocean—each finding strength, inspiration, and solace in the other's courage.

JAYVIK

The soft hum of machinery blended seamlessly with Viktor's quiet footsteps and the rhythmic tap of his cane against the polished wood floors of their shared apartment. Outside, the city lights of Piltover flickered gently through the large windows, casting a serene glow over their cozy living space. Jayce glanced up from his detailed notes, his tired eyes warming immediately at the sight of Viktor thoughtfully positioning a small, elegantly crafted aquarium on the table.

"Think she'll like it?" Jayce asked, setting his pen aside and folding his arms, observing Viktor with gentle amusement.

Viktor carefully adjusted the tank, fingers meticulously rearranging the luminous pebbles and gently swaying underwater plants. A tiny, fierce-looking fish darted energetically from side to side, clearly exploring its new domain.

"Knowing Y/N," Viktor smiled softly, his eyes gentle and fond with the memory of her excitement whenever she discussed her passion for sea creatures, "she will absolutely adore it."

Jayce chuckled warmly, rising from his chair and approaching Viktor, wrapping an affectionate arm around his slender shoulders. He pressed a tender kiss to Viktor's temple, inhaling deeply as he enjoyed their quiet moment together. "A fearsome sea creature, yet apartment-sized," he mused softly. "It's perfect."

"Precisely," Viktor agreed, leaning comfortably into Jayce’s reassuring embrace. The peaceful stillness settled over them, both savouring the brief respite from the chaos of their work.

Their quiet laughter was suddenly interrupted by the familiar sound of keys rattling outside the door. Y/N stepped inside moments later, her bright eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of her two favourite inventors waiting expectantly, a mischievous glint in her gaze.

"What have you two been up to?" Y/N asked playfully, arching a curious brow as she placed her bag carefully by the door.

"We got you a little something," Jayce announced, clearly excited, barely able to hide his anticipation as he motioned grandly toward the aquarium.

Y/N’s eyes widened in pure delight, a radiant, heartfelt grin spreading across her face. She approached the tank eagerly, practically glowing with joy as she knelt to get a closer look. "Is that…a fish?" she asked breathlessly, amazement evident in her tone.

"Indeed," Viktor stepped forward, pride and deep affection resonating in his voice as he watched her fascination unfold. "A miniature version of the large, intimidating sea creatures you so admire."

Y/N laughed softly, eyes sparkling with excitement and appreciation as she wrapped her arms tightly around both Viktor and Jayce, pulling them close into a grateful, warm embrace. Her touch was tender yet firm, conveying all the affection she held for them both. "It's absolutely perfect," she whispered, voice filled with genuine emotion. "Thank you both so much."

"You deserve it," Jayce murmured warmly, holding them both tighter, savouring the closeness and comfort of their shared bond.

Viktor smiled softly, leaning his head against Y/N’s shoulder, quietly absorbing the warmth and love that surrounded them. "Nothing less for our brave, sea-loving heart," he replied gently.

The trio remained wrapped in their affectionate embrace for several moments longer, each silently thankful for the comfort and companionship they brought into each other's lives. Eventually, Y/N stepped closer again to the aquarium, enchanted by the tiny creature swimming boldly through its new surroundings.

"It's fascinating," she murmured thoughtfully, her fingers lightly tracing the glass. "What should we name it?"

Jayce laughed gently, placing a comforting hand on her back. "That important decision, I believe, is entirely yours."

Y/N turned to face her beloved partners, a playful smirk on her lips. "Perhaps something fierce and majestic," she pondered aloud. "To remind us all of the strength in even the smallest creatures."

"Perfectly fitting," Viktor agreed quietly, eyes shining softly.

Together, the trio settled comfortably onto their plush sofa, watching the little fish swim courageously in its new home. Their apartment filled once more with the gentle hum of machinery, the rhythmic tap of Viktor’s cane resting by his side, and the soothing silence of shared happiness. Their hearts were united, basking quietly in the warmth of thoughtful gestures, mutual understanding, and the deep affection that bound them so closely together.

VANDER

Y/N was known around Zaun for many things—her creative flair, her sweet yet formidable presence, and her peculiar fascination with the creatures of the deep. People whispered tales of how she ventured fearlessly to the docks each evening, bringing baskets of fish and other delicacies. Many believed she was feeding some monstrous beast; others simply thought she was charmingly eccentric.

Vander, however, knew better than to dismiss anything as mere eccentricity. It was part of why he loved her. One quiet evening, curiosity getting the better of him, he and the kids—Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor—decided to accompany Y/N to the docks.

The docks were cloaked in twilight, and the sound of gentle waves lapped against the weathered wood. Powder clung close to Vander, wide-eyed, while Vi moved confidently, determined to show bravery. Mylo and Claggor exchanged skeptical glances but remained intrigued nonetheless.

Y/N stood at the edge of the pier, a gentle smile on her lips. She placed a large bucket of fish on the dock, humming softly. Vander approached her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"So, love," Vander's voice was a gentle rumble, "what exactly are we waiting for?"

She laughed softly, leaning against him. "Patience, Vander. Trust me."

As if summoned by her voice, the water began to ripple and surge. Powder squeaked in surprise, clinging tighter to Vander's leg, while Vi's jaw dropped open. Emerging slowly from beneath the depths was an enormous, fearsome-looking sea creature, its eyes large and curious, scales shimmering gently in the fading light.

Vander instinctively stepped in front of Y/N, protectively shielding her, but she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "It's alright. He's gentle."

The creature emitted a deep, rumbling hum, moving gracefully towards Y/N. Without hesitation, she reached out her hand, touching its massive, smooth head affectionately.

"Meet Orion," Y/N announced proudly. "He's my friend."

Powder peeked cautiously from behind Vander, her initial fear replaced by awe. "Can I… Can I touch him too?"

"Of course," Y/N said warmly, beckoning the children forward. One by one, they approached the gentle giant, who remained calm and patient under their hesitant touches. Orion seemed to sense their curiosity, carefully moving closer to allow their gentle exploration.

Claggor laughed, fascinated. "He's incredible! I never imagined something like this existed."

Mylo smirked, trying to appear unimpressed, but couldn't hide the sparkle in his eyes. "Well, he’s definitely not something you see every day."

Y/N chuckled softly, watching the children's reactions fondly. Vander relaxed, observing the joy on her face as she shared this hidden part of her world. "You've always been full of surprises, love."

"Someone has to keep you on your toes," she teased, eyes sparkling playfully.

Vander chuckled softly, pulling her closer. "Consider it done."

As the night grew darker, Y/N gently sent Orion back into the deep. The creature paused for a moment, seemingly hesitant to leave, before finally disappearing beneath the waves, leaving behind ripples that shimmered like stardust.

Walking home hand in hand with Vander, surrounded by the animated chatter of the kids recounting their encounter, Y/N felt complete. Vander squeezed her hand gently, leaning close to whisper, "Thank you for sharing your secret with us."

"It's your secret now too," she replied softly, her heart swelling with warmth. She glanced back towards the docks, a tender smile forming on her lips. Orion had always been special to her, but sharing him with the people she loved made the bond even deeper.

Vander noticed her thoughtful expression, gently nudging her side. "Already planning our next visit, aren't you?"

Y/N laughed lightly, nodding. "I think Orion would like that."

Vander's voice was tender as he said, "Then we’ll make it happen. Together."

Y/N squeezed his hand tighter, knowing that together, they could face anything—even the mysteries hidden beneath the waves.

SILCO

The waters outside Silco's hideout moved gracefully, dark currents rippling under the neon glow of Zaun. Large, hauntingly beautiful creatures swam through the water—creatures most found terrifying. But Y/N was utterly captivated by them.

Perched by the window, she watched, eyes wide with wonder and admiration. A gentle smile played at the corners of her lips as a particularly massive creature, sleek and predatory, glided past, its scales shimmering mysteriously. She leaned closer, fingertips pressed gently against the cool glass, tracing the creature's fluid movements.

"They fascinate you," came a smooth, familiar voice from behind her. Silco's steps were almost silent, a ghostly presence that comforted rather than unsettled her.

"Always," Y/N replied, eyes never leaving the creature. "They're beautiful. People fear them because they don't understand."

"Or perhaps," Silco moved closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing reassuringly, "they fear them precisely because they do."

She turned slowly, eyes meeting his mismatched gaze, vivid with intrigue and tenderness. Her expression softened further, fingers reaching up instinctively to rest over his. "You're like them," she whispered affectionately. "Misunderstood, feared... but beautiful in ways few can see."

A quiet chuckle escaped Silco, eyes glinting softly in the dim lighting. "Only you would dare call me beautiful."

"Only because I see you," Y/N murmured tenderly, stepping closer, the space between them dissolving effortlessly. "Just like those creatures out there, there's more beneath the surface."

Silco tilted her chin up gently, his voice a warm whisper as his eyes bore into hers. "And you have always dared to dive deeper."

Their lips met in a slow, meaningful kiss, illuminated by the gentle, eerie glow from the window. The warmth between them contrasted sharply with the cool ambiance outside. Behind them, the creatures continued their silent dance, guardians to a love as deep and powerful as the very waters they inhabited.

Breaking the kiss softly, Silco guided her closer to the window, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. Y/N leaned into him, comfortable and safe, both gazing at the mesmerizing scene unfolding before them. The silent majesty of the underwater beings mirrored the quiet power that Silco radiated—a power Y/N had never feared, but rather had always found profoundly comforting.

"Do you ever wonder," Y/N spoke quietly, her voice thoughtful yet serene, "what they feel? If they sense our presence as clearly as we sense theirs?"

"Perhaps," Silco mused thoughtfully, his voice gentle yet firm, "they see through the glass and envy our warmth, just as we envy their freedom."

She turned her head slightly, smiling softly at the depth of his insight. "Maybe. Or maybe they know something we don't—something about surviving and thriving in places others avoid."

Silco tightened his embrace slightly, his lips brushing gently against her temple. "If that's the case," he whispered, "then perhaps we're not so different after all."

She turned fully, eyes glowing with sincerity and affection. "No, we're not," she agreed softly. "And I'm glad."

They stood together for a long time, savouring the quiet intimacy and the slow rhythm of the underwater creatures passing by. Outside, the waters continued their endless dance, beautiful, mysterious, and unafraid. Inside, two souls found strength, understanding, and love in each other—silent guardians of one another's hearts, as deep and boundless as the oceans they both admired.

JINX

Y/N peered over the edge of the rickety pier in Zaun, eyes wide with wonder rather than fear, their fascination clear as daylight.

"What are you staring at?" Jinx asked, bouncing impatiently on her heels, her braids swinging with curiosity.

"Look! Right there!" Y/N whispered excitedly, pointing at the shadowy figure beneath the murky waves. "It's huge! Must be a razorfin or something!"

Jinx squinted suspiciously. "You're excited about a big, scary sea monster? Weird, even for you."

Y/N laughed, shaking their head. "Not scary, Jinx. They're beautiful—strong, misunderstood. Just like people around here." Their voice softened, "Like you."

Jinx paused, caught off guard by the sincerity. She quickly masked it with a playful smirk. "Alright, Sea Whisperer, what's the plan? Befriend it and invite it to your birthday?"

"Actually," Y/N said, pulling out a worn notebook filled with sketches of sea creatures, mechanical contraptions, and artistic doodles, "I have an idea. Help me build something to see it better."

Eyes lighting up at the mention of building, Jinx grinned mischievously. "Oh, we're gonna make it go BOOM?"

Y/N chuckled, patting her friend's shoulder affectionately. "Maybe less explosion, more exploration."

Hours later, after welding scrap metal and scavenging the Undercity, they stood proudly before a makeshift underwater viewer—a peculiar contraption made of metal, glass, and gears.

Together, they lowered it carefully into the water. Y/N leaned forward eagerly, eyes bright with excitement. As the immense, graceful shape of the sea creature swam into view clearly beneath the glass, Y/N gasped in awe.

Even Jinx looked impressed, though she'd never admit it openly. Instead, she nudged Y/N playfully. "Alright, I admit it. It's pretty cool."

"Told you," Y/N smiled warmly, grateful to share this rare, quiet moment with her chaotic but fiercely loyal friend.

Jinx huffed dramatically, rolling her eyes but smiling back genuinely. "Just don't expect me to pet it."

Laughing together, they watched the creature vanish gracefully into the deep. But the moment of tranquility didn't last long; suddenly, another shadow loomed larger, darker, and far more menacing.

Jinx immediately tensed, gripping her weapon tightly. "Alright, now that definitely looks like trouble."

Y/N's expression turned serious, though excitement lingered in their eyes. "Wait! Let's just see."

The new figure surfaced slowly, revealing a large creature with scars along its scales, eyes wise yet wary. Y/N gasped softly. "It's wounded. Maybe we can help?"

Jinx groaned dramatically, but her loyalty shone through her grumbling. "Fine, but if this thing tries to snack on us, you're on your own!"

Together, they carefully approached the edge of the pier, offering cautious gestures of peace. Y/N reached out gently, speaking softly. Slowly, hesitantly, the creature moved closer, revealing a deep gash along its side.

"Hold still, big guy," Y/N murmured comfortingly, pulling some clean cloth and ointments from their pack.

Surprisingly calm, the sea creature allowed them to treat its wounds, and Jinx found herself helping despite her protests, mumbling something about "being too nice for their own good."

Finally, after some careful tending, the creature gave a gentle, thankful push against Y/N's hand before gliding silently back into the depths.

"Well, Sea Whisperer," Jinx admitted grudgingly, her expression softening, "you're actually pretty good at this."

"Thanks," Y/N smiled broadly. "And you're a better assistant than you think."

"Ugh, don't get mushy on me," Jinx scoffed playfully, hiding a smile behind her hand. "Let's get back before something even bigger decides it wants your medical services."

Laughing, they headed back to the neon-lit streets of Zaun, their friendship deepened by compassion, trust, and the strange, beautiful creatures of the deep.

[headkiss]

maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

-

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

-

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

��Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

-

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

-

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?���

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

-

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

-

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

[bullet-prooflove]

Mike franks x reader with the prompt

40. So, can we kiss in your swimming pool?

thankss!

Tagging: @kmc1989 @love-affair-with-fandoms @ihatethenciswritingteam @daddyleroyjethrogibbs @fan-fics-reblogs

Companion piece to:

Count To Five (NSFW)

When you suggest meeting at the hotel pool after hours Mike doesn’t expect to find you swimming naked. Your clothes are neatly folded up on one of the white plastic sun loungers alongside the pool, there’s two towels and a bottle of whiskey he guesses you stole from the bar sat neatly beside them.

The L.A Law Enforcement Conference that you’re attending was supposed to be a mini vacation. By day you’d both be attending seminars, testing equipment, mingling with other law enforcement personnel but at night…

You’d be all his.

It goes to hell because both NIS and SDPD are too cheap to shell out for separate rooms for their employees. He’s ended up sharing with Randy, who goes to bed promptly at ten pm and spends hours on the phone talking to his wife and new baby. You’re bunking with another female detective, one whose had a scrunchie on the door since day one because she hasn’t met a fed she doesn’t like. The parade of men coming through your room is like San Diego airport during the Christmas rush.

There’s an irony there because Mike’s spent the entire weekend with blue balls while your roommate is getting fucked three ways from Sunday. It’s driving him crazy having you so temptingly close and not able to touch you. Everytime he catches the scent of your perfume, or you brush up against him at the bar, he gets a hard on that would be very hard to explain during the HR workshop.

“How’d you get in?” He calls out across the water as he begins to undress.

The rings come off first, placed carefully on top of your clothing. His shirt’s next, followed by his shoes, socks, trousers and finally his underwear. He’s hard already, leaking because the sight of you wearing fuck all, it’s enough to bring a man to his knees.

“Someone taught me how to pick a lock.” You respond as he descends the steps into the water. It laps against his skin in small waves as he swims towards you.

“It sounds like you’re letting him corrupt you.” He says, his arms wrapping you and drawing you against him. Your thighs hug his hips as he cradles you close, his eyes locking on yours as you float together.

“Maybe, I’m corrupting him.” You murmur, your fingertips running through the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

“You most certainly are darlin.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours as he notches his cock at your entrance. “You’ve been driving me crazy all damn weekend.”

He makes love to you wildly, his face buried in the curve of your throat as he thrusts inside you with long, hard strokes that have your nails scratching up his back. You start to tighten around his dick, your moans getting louder and Mike chases your release relentlessly, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over again until finally you shatter underneath his hands.

You’re fucking stunning in that moment, eyes bright, skin flushed and the way you grip him…

It’s like he’s died and gone straight to heaven.

He climaxes with you, his release spilling deep as he holds you in place, keeping you filled with every inch of him. This is what he’s been missing in his life, this feeling of intimacy, of connectivity. He’s never felt like this with another woman, so complete, so whole.

You spend the rest of the night tangled up with each other on that plastic sun lounger, a towel wrapped around his hips and one draped across the both of you. He falls asleep with the taste of you and Jack Daniels on his lips, your warm body tucked in against his. These are his favourite moments, he thinks as he starts to drift, the ones where you curl up together and just exist.

He wakes up as the dawn breaks, the orange and pink hues streaking across the sky as the light starts to filter in through the giant glass skylight overhead. You lips brush over his mouth tenderly and it feels like just the sweetest damn thing. He opens his eyes to find you standing over him, fully dressed, your fingertips ghosting along the line of his jaw.

“It’s time to go.” You whisper and Mike sighs as you pull away, forcing himself into a sitting position as you saunter away.

He snatches up his underwear, pulling them on underneath the towel before he tosses it aside. His gaze comes to rest on the clock above the pool as he tugs on his trousers.

5:45am.

The pool opens in fifteen minutes.

“I’ll see you back in San Diego Special Agent Franks.” You say without so much as a second look.

“I hate it when you call me that.” He responds because it feels so fucking impersonal considering how you’ve just spent the night together.

You don’t respond, you don’t even hear him because that door, it’s already closing and leaving Mike all alone.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[novthewolf]

HII IS THIS A NEW BLOG ur theme is so cute giggles 💕💕

*drops request about jinx w a fem or gn reader doing her hair*

Knotted hair, knotted mind

(Thank you very much anon ! ^^)

Pairing : Jinx x GN!Reader

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : foul language, depiction of schizophrenia, english isn't my first language.

Words : +1,3K

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The huge metal structure groaned the more footsteps you took. You hated it here for the sole reason that it was incredibly deadly, and you didn't trust your feet to not betray you and make you fall to your death.

But for Jinx, you were more than willing to face your fears. Once again, she suffered from a breakdown in the middle of a mission, and the moment you got back to the headquarters, she bolted towards her room.

"Jinx ?" You call out, only to be answered by the echo of your own voice. Taking baby steps across the bridge, your eyes scanned the whole room. She could literally be anywhere. Really, she never ceased to amaze you, but this time, you just hoped she didn't hide away.

The deep void was pulling your eyes down towards it. A stream of curses targeted at your brain poured out of your mouth. Thankfuly, you could see the clumped counter in the centre of the giant room coming further. You rushed the last steps and totally leaned on Jinx's workshop, some of her makeeries falling to the ground. "We should really put fences around here." You whined.

A struggling sob resonated within the terrifying open space. Your eyes shot up, and you searched for your friend. She sat there across, her deeply blue hair totally discoloured on her head, as she pulled on it with concerning hatred. You gasped audibly and rushed to her side.

Kneeling down beside her, you hushed her to scout away from the edge of the plateform. Normaly, she wouldn't risk anything, but in her state, you didn't want to tempt the devil. You tilted your head to catch the expression on her face. "Jinx ?"

In the depths of her crisis, Jinx's expression was a haunting portrait of anguish and confusion. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, now mirrored the chaos swirling within her mind, haunted by unseen spectres and twisted visions. Lines of tension etched her brow, and her lips trembled with unspoken words, unable to articulate the torment raging within her soul.

Each fleeting emotion flickered across her face like shadows dancing in the dim light. Though her features were drawn and haggard, there remained a flicker of resilience in her gaze, a glimmer of hope amidst the storm that raged within her.

"Jinx, hey, listen to me." Her eyes snapped to yours, tears falling down her 

As the shadows of evening draped themselves over the room, you sat beside Jinx, whose once bright blue eyes were now clouded with fear and confusion. Her hands trembled as she clutched her long hair, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a gentle touch, you reached out, her hand finding Jinx's quivering shoukder, offering a silent anchor amidst the storm raging within yourriend's mind.

"I'm here, Jinx." You murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous backdrop of young women's thoughts.

Jinx struggled to make sense of the fragmented and distorted whispers of her dead family that echoed in her mind. But you remained steadfast by her side, a beacon of unwavering support in the darkness.

"You're here too. Just you and me." With patience born of love and understanding, you guided her through the labyrinth of her own thoughts.

Together, you navigated the turbulent currents of Jinx's inner world, untangling the threads of reality from the tangled web of hallucinations and delusions.

"I didn't mean to fuck it up... I-It's just those fu-fucking blue firework thingies !" She gestured violently, and you had to duck your head to avoid getting slapped in the face.

"I understand... We should have been more careful. But we made it back; we're here. You are here." You smiled softly, not meeting her eyes, knowing it would only overwhelm her more.

She exhaled loudly and threw her head back, her legs bouncing rapidly. In the quiet sanctuary of your shared presence, you became the blue-haired lifeline, anchoring her to the present moment and gently guiding her towards the light. With each passing moment, the storm began to subside, and a sense of calm descended upon the room like a gentle rain after a tempest. Her small hands finally let go of her long hair and slid down her sides.

You felt her calm down gently, her eyes finally meeting yours. Your caring smile reassured me immensely. After her sister had abandoned her, Jinx kept seeking that loving and patient presence she lacked. Silco offered her the patience and structure she needed, but you brought her the unconditional understanding she craved. Something that could actually help her untangle her mind when the voices came nagging.

She hummed when your fingers brushed through her hair, smiling when she heard you chuckle. "Your hair is all messy..."

Jinx rolled her eyes but looked down bashfully. "Do you want me to brush them?" You offer quietly. The last thing you wanted was to cross her boundaries, though you knew she deeply enjoyed your touches and care.

"Okay." She nodded.

"Okay." You mirrored with a soft smile. Standing up, you offered her your hand, which she gadly took. You guided her towards her work table and sat her down on the chair.

You sat behind Jinx, who still bore the remnants of the storm that had ravaged her mind. With tender care, you began to gently comb through her tangled blue locks, her touch as light as a feather against Jinx's scalp. You put extra care into not pulling her hair or the knots in them.

"Can I braid your hair ?" You whispered softly, your voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. She nodded wordlessly, her eyes flickering with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion, her head tilting back, leaning into your touch.

As you deftly wove Jinx's hair into intricate plaits, the tension that had gripped her features began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility.With each twist and turn of the braid, your fingers worked their magic, creating a rhythmic dance that seemed to lull your friend into a state of peaceful surrender.

As the braid took shape, you spoke in hushed tones, sharing stories and memories from their shared past, each word a gentle caress against Jinx's troubled soul.

"I was terrified of heights as a kid... well, still are." You chuckled, continuing the long braids, her hair seeming endless. "Which is, y'know, quite practical when you live in a city with mostly flying structures." Your joke earned a small giggle from her.

With each tale, the invisible barriers that had separated them began to dissolve, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection that transcended the confines of their physical surroundings. And as you secured the final knot of the braid, Jinx's beautiful blue eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting yours with a newfound sense of clarity and gratitude. In that fleeting moment, as they sat entwined in each other's presence.

You blushed slightly as you made her chair spin around. "There. Even prettier than before, I didn't think it could be possible." You winked, trying to come out confident.

She scoffed half-heartedly and nudged your leg with her own. Her gaze dazed at her inventions lying around. "Thanks for being there for me." She couldn't meet your eyes, but her voice carried all the thankfulness she felt.

You chuckled breathlessly and caressed her soft skin with your knuckles. "It's nothing, love. I got your back." Her cheeks heated up at your words, and she played with the newly braided hair.

As the night wore on, you remained vigilant by Jinx's side, offering comfort and companionship until the first light of dawn. From this moment on, she knew that no matter how fierce the storm raged within her, you would always be there to guide her and brush her worries away.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

[tparker48]

Request from Anonymous

Evening had arrived as the streets of the neighborhood began to quiet down. Cars pulled into their driveways, people from inside heading into their homes. In a car resting inside a garage, would be a man named Hogan. He yawned as he got out of the car, tossing his safety cap to his workshop tool table near the front of his car. He dragged his feet toward the main door, and the cold breath of the air washed over him. The corners of his construction gear bulged into his arm pits, the sound of tears seething from his shoulders. He lowered his bag toward the wall, and his body became lighter, like a boulder had just been lifted from his back.

“One down, now I just gotta get these..” He sucked in his gut, grabbing the zipper of his uniform as his stomach bounced across his waistline. Sawdust splashing into the air, casting its particles into the sunlight as they danced from the laundry room window. He took to his pants, and let out a satisfied grunt as he kicked his boots off. “That’s better.”

He kicked the leathery shoes next to the washer machine, tossing his clothes into the opening as he walked bare into the living room. He grabbed his headset from the living room table and put them on. He crashed to his stomach on the floor, his console turning on along the shelf. After hours of work, what better way to unwind than through quality gaming.

He crashed to his stomach on the floor, his console turning on along the shelf. "Let's see what the boys are up to on deathwatch."

He flipped through the screen to his game, turning on his microphone as he searched through the lobby.

—--------

An hour had gone by since Hogan started to relax, enjoying the peace of enjoying the peace of with his online friends. The screen flashed with chaos as effects danced around the frame, Hogan’s call outs booming through the acoustic’s of the living room. But  another chaos brewed in the shadows, as a small pair of eyes peeked from the folds of a crumpled towel. Inside, would be Peppe, staring at his hubby’s backside.

“He’s finally home.” he said, a low giggle escaping from him. “Took longer than expected, but at least it gave me time to prepare.”

He dug into his pocket and fetched a tiny piece of gum, unwrapping its plastic blanket as it overtook his chest. He folded into a cubed shaped ball, and chewed at its end until the entire thing fit into his mouth. He savored the fruity flavor filling his mouth as he slinked out from beneath the towel, the smell of gas fumes polluting the air as the giant soles raked through the fibers of the carpet. 

He crept faster, the path narrowing as it centered toward Hogan. A mountain of hairy muscle rose before him, the elastic fabric over the mounds spreading atop like a blanket of snow.  After many times of venturing to his ass, he got tired of the view. It reminded him of being on an island, guarded by a musky volcano as it swayed overhead. He’d think he’d feel bad pranking his hubby all the time, but damn did it feel good to watch him squirm. And with an opportunity like this, it was too good to pass up.

He approached the crease between Hogan’s legs, the lining of crack rocketing over the bubbled ridge. He stepped upon the bulk of his crotch, sweat oozing from its surface like a leaking sponge. Must’ve been working hard out there on the construction, he thought, even after an hour of cooling still his backside was wet.

“Typical, Hogan. Big guy’s certainly not making it easy.” he rolled his eyes, gripping into the white fabrice along the left leg.

He clung to the bushed of hair, pushing into the thick borders sealing the mounds inside. His foot creased into a loose fold, warmth from beneath the fabric against as the smell of fresh sweat poured into his nose. He puffed his nose to ease its stinging sensation, continuing his climb aboard the mounds.

Sausage fingers reached from the other mound, piercing the lining of his crack Peppe dragged to the center. “Damn sweat’s going in the wrong places.” Hogan said, sliding his now glistening palm from the crack.

"Easy horsie, can't have your rider bucking off with the reins." Peppe whispered.  

He climbed to the top of Hogan’s ass and caught a glimpse of the horizon. A slope met before him as it climbed to a meaty neck above, the Tv screen flashing behind Hogan’s frenzied hair. He cherished the view for a moment before digging through his pocket, pulling a bulky string from inside. He opened his mouth and stuck the end of the string against the sticky mass, molding it with his tongue to ensure it was secure.

 Phase one of his great prank was complete, now it was time for the main event.

He approached the top of the elastic fabric, peeling a corer for himself as he tucked his feet inside. He shimmied himself between the mounds, watching the warm flesh rise as they spilled over his chest. Hogan’s fingers returned, stamping just a foot from Peppe as it stirred in place. 

“That works.” He said, shimmying the rest of his body as he slipped beneath the surface.

 The damp fingers wagged above as he dove into the mounds, flesh molding his body as they swallowed the light. Strands of hair snagged at his limbs, the scent of dry cement reaping his nostrils as sweat dashed into his clothes. After all was said and done, he had to remind Hoga to take a shower. Any more scents added to his musk and he’d be a walking gas station. The hairs thickened as they spread into him like a brush, revealing a red puckered star as it winked with sweat. It blew kisses as Peppe wisped past its folds, cushioning at the bottom as his foot sank between two soft boulders. 

“Target acquired,” He spat the gum from his mouth. “and just enough hair to strap on.”

He placed the wad against the ridge of the hair taint, cherry picking bunched hair as he molded them into the gum like clay. Hogan’s  legs shuffled, scooping Peppe close as he planted against the warm testicles.  

"What’s this guy teabagging for? Our team won that fair and square! Let me get a crack at him, I'll give him some nuts he can teabag!"

“As competitive as ever” Peppe mumbled, peeling from the damp skin. He spun a portion of the string to anchor Hogan’s hairs. They sprawled out like a row of vines, their sweat soaked surface brushing against him as if it were a paint brush. Before long, the task was complete, hairs wrapping around the gum as if they were holding it up. “Like a bouquet of smelly vines.” he patted at the top of the gum.

He crawled toward the bottom of Hogan's balls, the dampened fabric appearing as it stretched behind him. Peppe followed its path until it curved upward, taking to the thick hairs covering the mounds as he crawled back the way he came.  They slid through his fingers, his body cast back down as he tumbled into the mustache covering his anus. Its bristles tickled his nose as he swatted them away, grabbing a handful in a bunch as he climbed up its length. 

“Yeah that’s right, take all these nuts!”Hogan roared, his own thighs moving as the sac below squished into the fabric. 

Peppe fought its sway, gripping harder at the strands of hair as he reached  toward the slanted lighting of the crack. He slithering his palm back into the cool world of the living room, shimmying the rest of him through the caked mounds before Pulling the rest of the rope out of his pocket.

“Alright..that’s my workout for today.” Peppe wheezed.

 He climbed back to the top of Hogan’s waist, and looked to his head. Still he faced the Tv screen, even after traveling through his underwear. Just what he was expecting, and now it was time to retrieve the fruits of his labor. Wrapped the end of the rope around his wrist, the line straightening as it darted beneath the fabric like an anchor.

“Oh ho, prepare for a sting of your life Hogan.”

"Well done guys, we managed to pass that squad without setting them off. Too bad we can’t say the same for you..”the mute icon appeared on the side of the screen,Hogan batting an eye backwards. “..Peppe.” 

He froze at his words. “Huh?!”

 the string tightened as he yanked him beneath the underwear, like a fish caught on a hook as he burrowed through the mound of flesh. The dimmed space greeted him once more, his face dragged along the hairs resting in the bubbled valley. From what took minutes turned to mere seconds as he was dragged beneath the bulk of the testicles, fingers fiddling at the string as if it were a spider retracting its web. His back clung to the wad of gum at the taint, the fingers taking to his side as they jammed him beneath the muscular boulders. He gritted beneath its weight, the clammy skin spooning his ears as they acted as restraints on his head.

The ground shifted as  fingers pulled the waistband apart, Hogan’s face peering inside. "What do we have here, a munchkin taking a dip in my underwear."

Peppe shuffled a fold from his mouth. "What gave me away?"

"Come now, as many times as you explored my body, don't you think I would know if something complex was in the way?" He dwindled a finger through his pubes decorating the round spheres between his legs, swirling a patch of Peppe’s into the mix. "Hair pulling. Tsk, you gotta do better than that, dumpling."

"What can I say? It's a classic."

"Uh huh, charming. You know you're getting  punished for this right? I missed a lot of shots because of your meddling. Naught, naughty." He squeezed his legs together, Peppe’s lips smacking as they puckered like a fish. "Unfortunately we’re still in a game, so consider this a taste of what’s to come."

His smile disappeared as the waistband clamped at his waist, a gust of musk washing into Peppe before the thighs shifted, and  Hogan’s weight pushed at his back. "Hubby! Come on, you can’t be made at this face. You can’t do this to your dump-" a solid surface cushioned his chin, the bulk of the giant testicles plonking atop his head. “pling..”

A soft chuckle vibrated the walls. "Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy, hun. No matter how adorable that face is."

Taking the slow route huh? Just like him to toy with him slowly. Peppe rolled his eyes forward,wiggling his head to relieve pressure from his chin. Sloshing muffled from the orbs cupping his face, like giant silos filled to the brim with water. Its body heat grew hotter as its muscle flexed, the shaft knocking out of place as it drooled into the white fabric. He was getting off at my capture, and he called him the naughty one.

But even caught, he wasn’t going to give up just yet. He shifted his gaze into one of the orbs, inhaling the dried sweat coating the skin as he leaned his fingers to his jacket. He pulled the bottom of the fabric from his pants, shedding from its layer as he pressed it into the clammed ceiling. He gazed into the maw of the musky cave, the loose skin sagging as if were going to collapse. 

 There wasn’t enough room to pull the string, but he wasn’t without options as he looked to the flexing muscle.  He laid upon his back, taking a handful of the soft skin as he pulled himself upward. The humidity between was rough feet, his skin skidding against Hogan’s as it peeled off like a sticker. The skin only grew firm as he reached the stem of Hogan’s cock, its barreled underbelly cushioning his chin. After moments of climbing, he sighed as the ever growing pressure slipped from his feet, the bag of sac collecting as the length of the shaft rested upon him.

He planted his feet upon the balls, and Hogan shifted. "What are you doing down there?"

"Putting my plan into motion. I'm gonna make you submit to your dumpling!" Peppe declared.

"Sure. And just how are you going to do that."

A smile crept along Peppe’s face, a foot peeling from one of the testicles. "Creativity." He spread his toes across the bulging testicle, and wiggled them into the tender muscle. He added his other foot, and pressed it to the other as he marched over them. 

A groan rumbled through the air, a thigh thrusting and a clunk came from outside. “Mmm..kneading my balls huh? Bold, I’ll give you that, but it's gonna take more than a few foot rubs to get me to cave.”

"That's for sure. This is just the appetizer." He cradled his limbs to the corner of the member, holding it against his body as if it were a body pillow. He worked himself beneath its underbelly to the top of the shroomed head. Its flesh radiated with warmth greater than the balls below, a salty stream spilling upon his shoulder as it guzzled from the slit. He ringed his fingers between its lips, the stream widening as it spilled at his neck. "You know the thing about being small? You can reach just about anywhere?"

He wiggled a palm over the slit, and jammed it inside. Its creamy fluid lubricated his arm, driving it to his shoulder as the lips clamped onto his shoulder like a sleeve. He plunged his other hand inside, and began to twist them through  the soggy folds as it trailed through the tight opening of the shaft.

Hogan’s body bucked, a sharp moan piercing the air as the sounds of buttons clacked from above "Oh..ff.."

Peppe's eyes became starry eyed. "Gotcha now."

He wormed more of his body toward the front of the underwear’s pouch, clinging his feet to the puffed edges as they peeled the hood away. The muffled grunts turned to purrs, Hogan’s entire waist beginning to thrash as if it were in a trap.

"Still thinking about surrendering?" Peppe giggled with excitement, grinding his elbows to circle the rest of his arms between the tight tube.

A digital voice announced that the game paused, the sound of a controller toppling to the side. "Give me 2 minutes,boys." Hogan's voice boomed, the space shifting as. Gravity tossed Peppe atop the bulging cock.

The inner tube tightened his arms like a vice, its girth nudging between his legs. The fabric yanked off and light blurred his vision, forcing Peppe to wince as his eyes raced to adjust. His gaze eventually relaxed, As Hogan’s met his, peering from the mountainous torso  high above.

"Now you done it, dumpling. You managed to make me cave?”

"I did? I mean yeah, I did! Take that, Hubby.” He declared, but looked up to a smile peering across his face. “You uh..you aren’t mad are you?”

“Me? Not all. In fact, I'm ecstatic.”

“You..are?”

“Yeah..” He replied. A palm raised beneath him, clasping at the center of the shaft. It pumped at a steady pace, getting stronger as it gripped at Peppe’s arms. “I get to do punishment early.”

Oh shit. Peppe tugged at his arms to get them free, shimmying his shoulders to lighten the pressure, but a suction locked them down, the cock’s throat pulsing as they tucked his arms together. Fingers curled around his back, hoisting his lower half into the center as it tilted toward the cock slit. He wrestled between the thick fingers, a thumb pressing his head into the lips as they  gummed the sides of his cheek.

The thumb trailed over his neck to the rest of his body, plunging Peppe deeper into the urethra. He was caught in the pull of the suction inside, guiding him through the tight crawlway of the tube as seed lathered into his side like lotion. The tender walls manhandled his body, thrashing him about in its attempts to gobble him up. The lips slipped higher, funneling to the tips of his toes as he sunk deeper. The cool air left from his feet, and the shaft became alive as its walls tenderized his body.

Outside, a lump traversed through the cock's underbelly bulging, sliding down at snail's pace as it flattened against Hogan’s twisting palm. He gritted his teeth, pumping harder to knock the protruding bulge from its spot as he massaged its soft ridges as it parted the walls inside. It bobbed over the base of his shaft, a finger tilting it for Hogan to see for himself. With a simple clench, the bulge launched and it plunged past the surface of his crotch, its form wisping through his inside as it curled down to the meaty low hangers throbbing below.

The World was dimmer in this region of Hogan’s body, the waves of muscle squeezing him like toothpaste through the tubes. He couldn’t move his body, his blood rushing to his head as he tried to face upward. He doubted it’d help with the surrounding fluid, gunks of slated goo lathered his face, sending his senses ablaze as his head began to swirl. The wall hugged closer as an opening arrived, his head smothered as  more salty fumes spewed into him like a ventilated shaft. 

He found himself in a round chamber, white goo secreting from the walls as they collected into a large body at the bottom of the fleshy dome. 

"Your balls?” He shouted, the sphincter encircling his neck. “Who shoves their love life into their balls?"

“Consider it a special treatment just for you. I was going to just shove you into one of my boots, but then you went and got me hard.”

Lumps caved from the walls, and the chamber became slanted. The white goo rose like a roaring tide, submerging Peppe’s head beneath its surface. It shrouded like a fog, the pink walls near him blurring with white smudges.

“Quite the load isn’t it dumpling? All thanks to you.” 

the tight tube squeezed at his body, rocketing him into the milky mess as he flailed to the surface. He inhaled the tainted air, splashing to keep himself afloat. "Okay, foul play! You’re playing dirty, how am I supposed to have fun in here?"

“Sorry, hun, that’s not my problem. You’ll just have to sit in timeout like a good boy.”

 The chamber flipped once more, spiraling Peppe  from wall to wall as if it were a tube mixer. He felt nauseous as he dunked and emerged from its gooey surface, his efforts to cease derailed as his palmed slid from the soft wall. It was only when the pool flipped to the ceiling did the swirls cease, and it crashed atop of him.

Hogan’s laugh vibrated the walls, crusts forming into the seed as it rocked in place.. "Ready to call it quits?" 

"You..can't possibly think..I'd give up after that." Peppe panted, his head spinning amongst the seed.

"Yeah I thought not, you’re too stubborn for that. Ah well, perhaps a little marinating will teach you to behave yourself." The chamber swayed as steps rang through the walls, the fluid jumping as it crashed upon a solid surface. "I'm back boys, what I miss?"

Peppe groaned as Hogan faced his attention elsewhere, his head bobbing against the milky waves as he tilted to the ceiling. He looked to the shriveled star in the ceiling, seed squeezing from its folds like a wet rag. That was his way out of this filled chamber, but it was too out of reach to grasp. He pawed at the doughy walls for leverage, hoisting upon the soft lumps to escape the milky pond. But their surface melted upon contact, spilling him into the seed once more.

“This is getting me nowhere, how’s a guy supposed to move when everything around you is muscle?” He tried again to reach for a fold, its surface slipping into the fluid as it glossed the wall beneath.

A moan erupted from above, the walls caving as waves splashed him in its epicenter. He resurfaced, looking to the walls as they battered the fluid along his borders. “He felt that?” He puzzled, swimming to the wall behind him. 

He smeared a layer of gunk from the lumpy surface, cupping his palm to split its flow to the rest of the seed. When clear pink muscle appeared, he pressed his fingertips into the soft wall, twisting it as it sunk breath its surface.

The walls shook again, and Hogan’s moans returned. When it finally settled, a smile crept upon his face. To think Hubby’s sweet spot would be right at the source of it all.  He swam closer to the wall, tapping his foot at the submerged flesh. When soft ground touched his toes, he shifted his legs into a running motion, his feet pattering against the muscular wall.

A sharp moan echoed the walls, Waves splashing in the seed. "What are you doing now?" Hogan's voice muffled.

"Improvising." he turned himself toward the wall of flesh, grabbing a handful as seed lubricated his hands. The chamber unraveled, globs of gunk slamming against the opposite wall as it crashed at the ceiling before it pattered onto his shoulders.

Hogan’s grunts turned to whimpers as the folds compressed and expanded,it battered its contents. "Stop being.. a brat." he strained, the walls beginning to pulse..

The seed’s current grew stronger, sweeping Peppe from the walls as he swirled around the rim.The walls compressed, and the ceiling closed in as the sphincter spasmed in place.

"Almost there, just one more push.." he assured himself, clinging to the corner of the folds to continue his efforts.

 The once spacious chamber shrunk to the size of a quarter, a mere gap separating Peppe from the chamber’s quivering lips. He massaged its folds to the best of his ability, the substance overtaking his arms as they splashed about his wrist. The walls squeeze closer as the fluid reached his chin, forcing him to tuck his nose close to the salty folds. 

"Here goes nothing." he managed to muster, taking a breath as he kissed into the center of the sphincter.

He sunk beneath the seed’s surface, suspended in the middle of the sac as the walls surrounding him became restless. Hogan’s grunt's grew louder, distorted as they became strained. Hard thumps shook the chamber, and the star above winked before it opened its entrance like a floodgate. A suction dragged at his body, pulling him against the widening entrance. Its lips barely passed his shoulder, the current flowing through his armpit as he held his breath.

A watery slosh echoed the chamber, before Hogan’s roar overwhelmed it.

---------------------------------------------------

Hogan’s body tensed, the controller in his hand slipping to the pocket of the couch. He stared weakly at his seed soaked palm, its grip still stroking his shaft as his hips bucked. "Can’t.. Hold it in..I.." he choked on his words, his head launching back into the cushion of his sofa. 

His hips locked, and seed erupted from his cock. Its warm fluid flowed like lava from an active volcano, a creamy stream filling his shorts as another drenched the corners of the chamber. He huffed as he regained control of his body, looking down to his member. its meaty length throbbed against his inner thigh, satisfied as it returned to its flaccid state.

In his weak stare, he looked to his bulging sac, the swollen orbs drooping over the side of the couch. "You kinky bastard.." he huffed softly, staring at the right nut that rocked slowly.

Inside, the pond had all but drained from inside the chamber, reduced to a hollow husk as fluid dressed the walls in webs. Stuck against the ceiling, Peppe remained, smothered by a wad of gunk as it dripped to the bottom of the chamber.

"I told ya..I wasn't finished." He smiled weakly, peeled from the ceiling as if he were a sticker. The chamber softened his fall, as it rocked slowly.. "How'd your game go?"

Hogan looked toward the screen, bits of his fluid dripping from the corners of the frame. Banter boomed from the microphone, gamertags from both his team and the opposite team flashing,

"Eh, they’ll.” he said. "Really wanted to get that streak. Was gonna get it too, until a twerp decided to get frisky.

"oo bummer." Peppe said. “Guess it goes to show you can’t shove something in your balls and not expect consequences.”

A flick shook the testicle. "Don't be so high and mighty, Dumpling. You're still in punishment time. But since you saved me the trouble of unloading in there, it’s only fair you do your part in making it.”

“You want me to make the pool all over again, didn’t you just climax?” Peppe asked, picking up a soft huff from the walls. “Wait a second, you’re not trying to get me to build up all that just for you to enjoy it personally?”

“I..I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s simply a fitting punishment for a brat like you.” he said. “Just be sure to rub them deep. So..so I’ll know if you’re doing your task.”

Peppe places his hands at his hips. “Uh huh, sure.” he traveled through the mush  of seed toward the wall, reaching at a palm as he scratched at its surface. The chamber jostled in place, heavy thumps returning as they shook the walls.

“Oo..just a little to the right..”

“Do you want me to pleasure you with both my hands, Hogan?”

“Yeah..Er! I mean no-”

“Hah, gotcha. You’re totally into this!”

“Why you little-..this is supposed to be punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying this!”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere. If I’m gonna be put to work, I might as well have fun with it, right? Oo! Now that I think about it, this space is just enough to bounce around it.”

“Dumpling, I forbid you to even try- Mm! No stop-mm..eassy in there!”

[arya-skywalker]

An Unexpected Alliance (Arcane fanfic)

Summary: Viktor has an unexpected visitor and helps her with a prosthetic. They bond over shared experiences and form an alliance.

Notes: A late entry to @arcanefandomweek ‘s Arcane Visions Week 1: Alliances. I need Viktor and Jinx to interact in season 2. Maybe they’d be friends. Maybe they’d just clash and collide. This is an exploration of how it might go. Inspired by a few trailers and promo posters, as well as some league lore; so beware potential spoilers!

Timeline wise… who knows? Just having fun with possibilities here.

TW: loss of limb, fictional drug (shimmer), cults, human experimentation

AO3 link

~*~

Viktor glanced up as a flash of blue burst into his workshop. Long blue hair. Jinx. Of course it was only a matter of time before she found him, whether he wanted her to or not. He set aside his tools and braced for the whirlwind.

She darted around the room, inspecting various prosthetics and chattering on about… something. He failed to see any train of logic, but she didn’t seem to be talking to him so he didn’t bother trying to decipher it.

“Please be careful not to break anything, some of these items are very fragile,” Viktor warned, before she could do anything too drastic.

Jinx turned to face him, eyes glowing purple. Shimmer. “Oh, there you are! Mr. Machine Herald! Almost didn’t see ya with all…” She gestured to the various parts and half-made prototypes surrounding him. He supposed his metal parts did blend in, but he rarely wanted to be found in the first place.

His gaze flicked to her left hand. Her middle finger was missing, the wound still leaking a mixture of blood and shimmer despite a crude bandage. “You’re hurt,” he blurted. “Let me help.”

She grinned. “I was hoping you’d offer! Can I get a cool upgrade? Like a giant middle finger with a laser or a blaster!”

“Let us start with the basics, hm? May I see?” he asked, holding out a hand.

She skipped over and slapped her injured hand into his. He winced in sympathy, then looked closer, taking a clean damp cloth in his free hand.

“How did this happen?” Viktor asked as he carefully removed the soaked bandage and cleaned the wound. He’d seen worse, it would likely be a simple fix.

“Stupid Piltie shot it off with stupid fancy gun. I could make a waaay better one!”

“A fancy gun, hm? What kind of fancy?”

“Oh something Hextech-y; it was glowing blue. But it didn’t explode, which is boring.”

Hextech. Jayce was making more weapons. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but still it stung. They both had failed to carry through on their promises. At least Viktor was trying to do good, but Jayce seemed to have fallen even further. Traitor.

“Hey, hey, easy on the grip!”

Viktor glanced back at her hand and loosened his grip. Something had to be wrong with the wiring of his hand to cause it to tighten so. “Apologies.” Then he cleared what remained of his throat and asked, “When did you last take shimmer? I am not judging— I have taken it myself— but it will affect how we continue, so please be truthful.”

“Hm? Oh! I don’t take it! Not like that, pfft no. The doctor did some funky experiment to save my life a while ago and I’ve been purple ever since!”

Viktor stiffened. “The doctor did this to you? Singed?”

“Yep!” Jinx nodded emphatically.

Another experiment. A human experiment. His gut twisted. Viktor knew Singed had done terrible things in the name of science. Shimmer was one of them, a double-edged sword. But this seemed a step further. Shimmer created within a human body. Had she become the new Rio? Gods, he hoped not.

Viktor shook his head. “Eh, anyway, would you prefer the prosthetic to be fused to your flesh or easily replaceable?”

Jinx tapped her chin. “Hmm… replaceable. That way I can make my own upgrades!”

“Understandable.” Viktor wrapped the wound with a clean bandage. The shimmer still in her system would likely help it heal faster regardless. He used the Hexclaw as an extra hand to make a few measurements and jot them down, then moved to find the necessary parts.

“Are you really all robot?” Jinx asked.

“Eh… not entirely.” He shrugged. “Perhaps eventually I will be.”

“That’s what your cult wants, right? The ‘Glorious Evolution’ or whatever?”

He scoffed. “They are not my cult. I do not ask for it, I do not want them following me.”

“I didn’t ask for mine either!” Jinx laughed. “Funny how that works. Just wake up one day and boom! Everyone dying their hair blue and begging for prosthetics!”

“Mm. These things are out of our control.”

“Don’t they listen to you?”

Viktor shrugged again. Mostly he avoided them and pretended they didn’t exist. “I have tried occasionally, but they find a way to twist my words to suit their purposes.”

“Mine would set Piltover ablaze for me if I asked,” Jinx said. “No one wanted anything to do with me before. My inventions never worked, or they exploded. I messed everything up.” Her voice cracked.

Viktor looked back at her, some small part of him softening. Another misfit, shunned by society. “No one really wanted me around either. I was a cripple and a foreigner. I spent much of my time away from my peers, but I preferred it that way. Someone I once knew told me that loneliness is the byproduct of a gifted mind, one of the few things he may have been right about. And sometimes we learn better from our failures than our successes, however painful it may be.”

Jinx’s eyes widened, staring at him. “Really?”

“It’s true.” Viktor hesitated a moment, trying to think of something else to reassure her. “I have seen your bombs. The design was very impressive, unique and effective. It was a challenge to defuse. You are very intelligent, Jinx. If you ever wish to put your mind to less destructive purposes, I would be glad to work with you.”

Jinx shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Here, watch.” Viktor pieced together a prosthetic finger, trimmed a bit to fit to her measurements. He attached it to a partial glove and held it out to her. Every step he explained, just in case she was interested. Perhaps it would help. “Try this on. It should fit underneath your other glove, if you wish.”

Jinx snatched it from his hand, looking at it curiously. “That’s it?”

“For a basic prosthetic, yes. As you said, you can make upgrades as you see fit. For now, try it on, see if it works.”

Jinx put on the prosthetic, and he guided her through a few tests to ensure it was functioning properly. Once she passed the tests, Jinx flipped him off with the prosthetic. “It’s perfect!”

“Good, I’m glad you like it. Is there anything else?”

Jinx was quiet for a few seconds, fiddling with the prosthetic. “Sevika said I could unite the whole of Zaun if I tried.” She looked back at him. “Hey, we should unite our cults!”

Viktor squinted at her. ���Unite our cults?”

“Yeah! Make an alliance!” Jinx grinned at him.

“I have no interest in attacking Piltover.”

Jinx blew a raspberry like a child. “Boring! Why not?” She narrowed her eyes. “Because of your fucking Piltie? Your Hextech partner? The Golden Boy of Progress? Are you still on his side?”

Viktor exhaled slowly, the fans of his ventilator whirring. He had to be careful. Antagonizing Jinx and her cult would be a terrible idea. “This isn’t about him. I do not wish to fight anyone, on either side. I am a scientist, not a soldier. My creations are to improve lives, not take them. I am only wary of what such an attack would mean for the common people, on both sides. Wars rarely end well.”

He took a breath, continuing before she could interrupt, “Perhaps we could simply have a truce between us? You tell your cult not to antagonize mine, and I do the same. If any of your cult require prosthetics, I would be happy to supply.” He would help anyone who stumbled into his workshop or requested his assistance, but still it was an olive branch. Whether his cult would listen was another matter, but he hoped they would.

Jinx tilted her head to the side, seeming to stare straight through him. “That’s all you want? Nothing about your Piltie?”

“Jayce is mine to deal with. I would greatly prefer if you leave him alive.”

“I can kidnap him for you and bring him here!”

“That is not necessary.”

“But you’d rather he be kidnapped than killed, right?”

That was undoubtably a threat. Fine. Jayce would be safer with him than any chem-barons. Viktor inclined his head. “Very well. If the opportunity arises to capture Jayce without severely harming him, you may bring him to me.”

“Great! It’s a deal!” Jinx bounced to her feet. “I’ve got something of yours. You gotta have something of mine now! Can I paint on you?”

Viktor hesitated. “What would you like to paint?”

“Just some blue clouds and stuff. You know, the more hopeful version of my symbol.” Jinx brandished a blue paint pen. “You can’t wash it off!”

It could be worse. “If you must. Just.. nothing too extreme.”

Jinx grinned and climbed on top of his chair to get closer, drawing on his metal chest plate and over his shoulder. Viktor remained perfectly still, watching her work. Blue swirls and clouds and sparkles. He could pretend it represented Hextech if asked. Or perhaps it would be better to admit their strange alliance.

Jayce would hate it.

Viktor craned his neck as she moved towards his back, careful not to jostle her. “How much are you drawing?”

“What, change your mind? Gotta make sure everyone can see it!”

“I did not change my mind. I am only curious.”

“Hold onto your horses, I’ll almost done!”

Viktor went still and silent once more. It was only paint. Jinx’s graffiti was everywhere in Zaun, hardly anything drastic.

“Ta-da!” Jinx hopped to her feet with a flourish. “What do you think?”

Viktor looked over the drawings, trying to think of something complimentary. It wasn’t his style, but he had no intention of insulting her. “You certainly have an artistic flair.”

“Thanks!” Suddenly she was hugging him.

Viktor froze for a moment, processing whether it was an attack or harmless. If she meant harm, he would certainly be dead already. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. When was the last time anyone had showed him such affection?

“Careful, you might smudge your drawings,” he said, half a joke.

“Don’t worry, it dries fast.” A moment later, she pulled away. “Well, see you around!” With a playful salute, she was gone.

Viktor watched her go. Emotions were strange illogical things, but perhaps it was not all terrible.

[toytoriyadorm]

CHAPTER 7: The Stars’ Technician

Quickly, the room got back into its usual business as a scowling Pat led the offending group up the steps. Yuukei attempted to give him a wave as thanks, but it was met with nothing more than a disgusted glare. 

“Wow, you managed to piss off Pat more than I thought.” The brown-eyed student turned to meet purple eyes looking back at him. 

“Oh! Thanks for getting us out of that, I thought we were screwed.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it!” Saturn cooly replied. “It’s the only thing I can do for a buddy of my buddy!”

“Eh? Are you Lotsie’s friend?”

“Oh definitely, but he’s not my buddy. I think the only person that deserves that title is the grumpy guy heading upstairs.” He pointed to Pat, who gave him an annoyed look in return. “I’m Saturn Torpeo, Zack’s best friend and Toytoriya’s theatrical technician.”

“You do all the lights and stuff? Cool!” Yuukei exclaimed, “That said, you wouldn’t happen to know where Lotsie is, would you? There was another student who was gonna point the way, she had red hair and a bunch of limbs…”

Saturn nervously laughed at the mention of the many limbed girl, “Aha, I actually did see him chatting with Zackery earlier, he might still be at his workshop. I’ll take you guys over there so no more people start tripping over stuff.”

He pointed to Ace’s now-green pants. “Plus, I’m sure Toytoriya’s best villain has some kind of gadget to fix up your buddies' clothes over there.”

With that, the trio followed the cool student towards the cardboard houses, Yuukei noticing him fuss with some sort of odd chart filled with equations. Deuce looked closer at the brown buildings, “Are these actually lived in?”

“Lived in? Nah, that’s what the main building is for,” Saturn answered as they walked up to a structure with an odd, purple tower sticking out the top. “These places are for students who like making stuff that might cause an explosion if they made it in their rooms. For Zack though… Heh, this might as well be his own house.”

“Who goes there!?” A loudspeaker above the door crackled to life, the camera beneath it focusing on the group. Lazily, Saturn saluted to the camera and spoke in a booming voice, “Henchman Saturn and Ramshackle’s Ambassadors at your service!”

“And the unknown variables behind thee?!”

“Oh, they’re uh…” Saturn looked at Ace and Deuce, “two criminals in need of your aid after causing a ruckus at the castle!”

A gasp crackled out of the contraption. “Ahem, you may come in!” 

“Hey, play along with it.” Saturn smirked at the scowling Heartslabyul students as the door unlocked. As the technician opened the door, the group was met with a giant laboratory, shelves filled with gadgets, toys, and so, so many robots. In the middle, was Zackery looking over a sheeted contraption that looked shaped like a turret. 

Spotting the group, Zackery rolled over to them on his purple skates. Taking off his sharp goggles and placing them upon his devil-horned hat, he grinned at the new company.

“Welcome, new allies, to my one and only evil lair!”

CHAPTER 8: A Villain’s Secret Base

“Where did ya buy all this stuff?!” Grim exclaimed, his eyes almost sparkling as he looked around the room.

“Buy? Ha! A villain like me doesn’t simply buy things, Ambassador Grim, I build them with my own hands!” Zackery announced proudly.

“No way!” Yuukei said, before looking to Saturn for confirmation. The older student nodded, “Our villain here happens to be one of the best robotic engineers this school has ever seen, and that's without magic. Lotsie just needed to ask for a few things and bam, Zack here is able to make whatever he wants as long as it's for the dorm.”

“That includes a thing-a-ma-jig for cleaning clothes, right?” Ace pipes up, while the Ramshackle Prefect peeks at the papers scattered across Zackery’s desk.

“Of course!” Zackery smiled proudly, “Such things are mere child’s play to a villain like me!”

“What are these?” Yuukei piped up, pointing at the largest stack on the desk.

“Ah! Those, my dear ambassador, are me and the Hero’s final manuscript for our play for the Festival!’

“You two working together?!” Grim exclaimed, “How’d that happen?”

“That’s exactly what Hero Herdsmen said, for King Huggins proclaimed it necessary that we get along with each other before the year ends. As such, His Highness required us to be allies if we were to ever take part in the festival’s contest!”

“Then who’s gonna win the leader title if your group comes first?” Deuce asks.

“The kingdom’s ‘star’, obviously.” Zackery scoffs, pulling out a very green blaster and aiming it towards Ace. “I’ve no need for the prize, this evil overlord already has his own kingdom of equally evil robots! I just signed up for the chance to show off my tech. But anyways, time to get cleaning!!!”

“Uh, is that blaster safe?” Ace asked nervously, a bright light beginning to shine from the machine.

“Well, out of 20 tests, the gun only blew up twice. So… somewhat!” Zackery proclaimed, not noticing Saturn and Deuce quietly moving away from the blast zone. “Stand still now, Criminal Ace!”

But as the mad scientist pressed the trigger, the gun’s bright green light suddenly shut off, much to the dismay of the purple-haired student.

“Darn it! When did you break?!” He says, tapping the gun’s muzzle like one would a phone. “I could try fixing it right now, but I need someone to get that stack to that bumpkin hero before his training ends.” 

Without pause, Yuukei suddenly grabbed the stack of papers. “Well Grim, it looks like we’re playing the role of errand boys today! I’ll get the papers to Winston for you!”

Zackery’s evil-doer persona faltered. “H-hah? Really? You guys don’t need to-”

“It's fine, it's fine!” Yuukei waved his hand. “Consider it just Ramshackle’s Ambassadors growing our relations with our totally evil ally! 

“Yeah!” Grim added, “We’ll come back later once Ace gets his clothes all fixed up, then I can get paid back with tuna cans later.”

With that, Ramshackle’s dearest duo headed back out to the school and straight for the Coliseum, with it being the Festival’s main area, the place looked almost as busy as Toytoriya. Still, Yuukei found it far easier to find Winston with his star clips catching his eye almost immediately. He appeared to have noticed them too, despite the large group of students around him.

“Hey! It’s my new buddies from this morning. Excuse me, everyone! I’ll finish signing your stuff later!” Winston exclaimed as he pushed through the crowd. 

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 21

I'm going to guess the title image is Chilchuck's workshop at his house.

And there are some dolls under the table.

After finally dealing with the undine, the party makes their way to the fifth floor and now have to deal with a winding staircase full of tentacles.

Either the orcs had to just power through all the tentacles or they have thick skins and/or thick clothing to deal with the tentacle stings.

I'm more interested in how they got through the water in the fourth floor. They managed to build a small settlement so they likely had brought tools and supplies with them when they fled their village. Either someone in the orc tribe can cast waterwalk, they brought a boat or the materials to make one, or they just had to swim.

I guess tentacles are actually more like anemones than jellyfish. They're interacting with the trap crevices as if it were a coral reef.

That bit about how they can grow on mimics reminds me of the boxer crab which places small anemones on its claws so it can use their stinging tentacles to hunt prey. Maybe some mimics do something similar.

Marcille has a new hair-do.

I don't think there's anything bad about Laios's idea. We've domesticated tons of plants to be harmless and decorative. Most of the plants we grow for food are the results of centuries of selective breeding.

Kensuke is trembling in every shot he's in. It's probably because of all the tentacles in the area, but I am worried if he feels the sting from the tentacles when Laios cuts them.

Those giant frogs are kinda smart. They observed how the party fought and focused on disabling them before attacking. The frog that grabbed Kensuke likely observed that Laios was using him to cut the tentacles.

Although they're not too smart because they didn't realize that Marcille's staff and Senshi's axe might be similarly dangerous until after they'd managed to kill another frog with them.

Ambrosia is the food of the gods in Greek mythology. It's subtle, but Marcille is a bit of a foodie which is probably a big reason why she's been so frustrated about eating monsters. Makes sense that she'd name her staff after a mythical food item.

That ended up being a really close call for Chilchuck. The party is already trying to rescue one party member from the belly of a beast. They don't need to have a second party member in that scenario.

Chilchuck nearly suffocated inside the frog.

The frog hides have the damage caused to them. Marcille blew one of their heads off, while Senshi sliced one of their heads open.

It took me a second to realize that Senshi was doing something else entirely. I was still thinking they were all making frog suits.

The page of Laios and Chilchuck making suits and the page of Senshi making gnocchi are side-by-side in book format. It adds a little to the whole "They're both making weird things at the same time" feel that Marcille had.

Senshi took off his wrist covering when kneading the dough but put it back on after. Guess he doesn't want to get fur in it. If he's that concerned, he should probably wear a beard-net when cooking.

Love how Chilchuck's outfit is just a sack with legs. They only killed three frogs so they had to sow something up out of whatever parts weren't used.

Also, Laios's outfit is made from the frog that Senshi killed, Senshi's is made from the one Marcille killed, and Marcille's is made from the one Chilchuck killed.

Chilchuck's being real careful with his steps since he's just a little sack with legs. The party had to tie his backpack to him since he doesn't have use of his arms.

The frog suits managed to protect the party from the tentacle stings, but now they're coated in frog blood because Laios wasn't able to tan their hides properly. I would assume a properly tanned frog skin wouldn't be good at protecting them against against tentacles because what probably keeps the frogs safe is a mucus layer over their skin, kinda like what clownfish use to keep safe from anemones. If the skins were properly dried, then the mucus layer would dry out too.

I don't think Marcille has anything to worry about. Falin would probably adore seeing her in a frog suit.

SENSHI FLASH!!

back

[not-a-space-alien]

Two Sides of the Same Coin: Chapter 6

Story Masterpost

On AO3

In this chapter: Time for a visit to Build-A-Bitch! Fun fact: this chapter introduces the concept that was the working title for this fic, which was: Dollstarion :)

This chapter also starts a run of chapters with heavy giant/tiny elements, so I am adding those tags now too :)

***

The portal from Avernus opened up in Gale’s workshop, and no sooner had Karlach stepped through it than the words came out of her mouth: “Tell me you have some good news!”

Wyll came out next.  “It’s been barely sixteen hours, Karlach.  Give the man some time to work.”

Gale had been sitting at his desk, amidst all his wizardly accoutrement, poring over a book.  He looked up over his spectacles.  “Ah!  You put too little faith in me, my friend! I’ve already made some progress.”

“Really?” Karlach said, starry-eyed.  “Gale, you’re the best!”

Gale closed his book.  “I’ve been told a few times here and there.”

“We should probably let Astarion listen,” Wyll said.  “Since it affects him most of all.”

“I broke your doohickey,” Karlach lamented.  “Sorry.”

“Oh that’s no problem.  It’s a simple charm quite easy to replicate.  Here.”  Gale spooled out some wire and started recreating all the inscriptions and sigils.  “There we are, now we just need to pop him in there!”

Karlach put the coin in, and Astarion’s voice echoed out from it again.  “Did we win?” he said frantically.  “Are we still under attack?”

“We got ‘em good, Fangs,” Karlach said.  “Don’t you worry.  We’ve got you.”

Astarion sighed in relief.  “Thank the gods.”

“Speaking of,” Gale said.  He picked up another book and cracked it open.  “I’ve found some evidence that a soul can be released from a soul coin with the simple use of a Remove Curse spell.  Did you follow any gods in life, Astarion?”

“...what?”

“Well, once the soul is released, it’s, er, shuffled off to whatever afterlife is in store for it.”

“Gale, you bloody moron!  What do you fucking think?  None of the gods wanted me when I was alive, none of them wanted me as a spawn, and none of them sure as hell wants me as a bloody stupid soul coin!”

“Calm yourself, friend,” Wyll said.  “Gale is the only reason you’re here speaking with us at all.”

“Ending up as a tormented sinner in the Hells is hardly a better option, don’t you think?”

“All right, Astarion,” Karlach broke in.  “We’re just looking at what our options are right now.  We’re not going to do anything that ends with you, er, being a lemure.” 

Astarion huffed.  “Then tell Gale to stop being such an idiot!”

The comment rolled off Gale.  “Well, I have a second idea.  I’ve been researching applications of necromancy magic–specifically spells like Magic Jar that allow for manipulation of the soul.  Fascinating stuff.  Deadly, if you’re not very careful.  Not entirely the most respectable magic, but I’m tenured, so it’s not like the academy can fire me for it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Karlach said.  “So what’s the plan?”

“I’ve been working on the effigy.”

“You’ve been… working on the effigy.”

Gale opened a drawer in his workbench and pulled out a doll.  A doll that looked like Astarion.  With white yarn for hair, red buttons for eyes, plump fabric for limbs.  “The effigy of Astarion’s form in life!  His soul can resonate with it.  It’s how I found him in the first place.  A few changes and I should be able to enhance the resonation.  I added the eyes today!”

“Gale, it’s wonderful!” Karlach said, tail wagging with enthusiasm.

“Is it?” Astarion said, bewildered.  “It is?”

“It’s a spitting image of your likeness,” Wyll offered.

“Well stop talking and put me in it, then!  Or whatever you’re going to do!”

“Right away, then!”  Gale disconnected the coin from the device and opened up the doll to reveal a series of glowing, magical wires inside.  “This is still experimental, understand, but if my calculations are correct, Astarion’s soul will be able to resonate with this effigy and empower it with some semblance of life.  His life force will make it able to move and talk, much like the coin has been powering this device.”

“Oh, this rules!” Karlach said, clapping.  “You’re so smart, Gale!”

Gale stood and preened with one hand on his chest.  “Well, I am the youngest professor to have tenure track at the university.”  He slotted the coin into the chest of the doll, then set it down and fiddled with the wires.  “If I can just–there!”

The coin started to glow softly.  And all three watched in delight and amazement as the doll breathed, chest moving in with a violent contraction akin to taking a startled breath.  Its limbs animated and its little stitched mouth opened, whole body twitching and little eyes moving in a disconcerting way.

“It’s working!  It’s working!”  Karlach leaned over.  “Astarion, can you hear me?”

The doll writhed, then fell still as its head lolled.  “Kar…lach?” said Astarion’s voice from the doll.

“Yes!  Yes, it’s me!  I’m here!”

“Wh…”  His voice was foggy.  The doll struggled to sit upright.  Karlach put her hand behind it and pushed it into a sitting position.

The little magically animated Dollstarion looked up at her without much expression at all.  Then, his little felt eyebrows furrowed.  “Why are you all so huge?”

“We’re the same size,” Wyll offered.  “The effigy is small.”

Astarion’s head snapped down to examine his doll body.  “What the absolute Hells!  Gale, you didn’t say the effigy was a fucking children’s toy!”

“Ah,” Gale said.  “Yes.  I didn’t.  Hmm.”

“Gale, you bloody moron!  What’s the meaning of this?  Why would you-”

“All right,” Wyll cautioned, putting a hand to the tiny Astarion.  “Gale is doing his best.”

“It’s much harder to make a faithful representation in the form of something larger,” Gale said.  “It’s going to be significantly harder, but I could start working on an automaton.  Like the kind we saw in that arcane tower in the Underdark.  Fascinating stuff.”

Gale turned and started rifling through his books, deep in thought.  Astarion looked on the verge of apoplexy, as much as he could while being made of felt and the size of Karlach’s hand.  “He did this on purpose.  To humiliate me.”

“I’d wager it’s still an improvement,” Wyll offered.

Astarion wilted.  “That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it!”

“No, my friend, you don’t have to.  But you could give it a try.  You can see and talk and move around now.  Your luck is starting to turn around.”

Astarion looked very grumpy, but he did look down at his little mitten hands all the same.

“How are you feeling?” Gale said, peering over at him.  A little too close.  “Tell me everything!”

“Am I some kind of science experiment to you?”

“Well, technically…”

“He’s just excited about his magic doohickey,” Karlach said.  “But what do you feel?”

Astarion’s little doll body turned around experimentally, testing his footing.  He felt the air from their arm movements whooshing around him, he felt the heat of their bodies–a lot of heat from Karlach–he could see and hear everything as though he had flesh and blood ears.  He could feel the table underneath him.  As far as he could tell he was, for all intents and purposes, a very small man made out of cloth.  “Humiliated, is what I feel.  Made this yourself, did you, Gale?  The stitching on it could use some work.”

“Apologies,” Gale said cheerfully.  He retrieved a small box full of sewing supplies, then took a needle out.  “What needs some work?”

Astarion hadn’t expected Gale to offer to fix it.  He struggled to think of something actually wrong with it.  “Here, this part isn’t closed all the way.  You can see the cotton in me!”  Yeah, there was cotton in there.  He tried not to think about it too hard.

“We’ll get that fixed right up!”  Gale lifted Astarion, who suddenly looked less annoyed and a lot more nervous now that Gale could lift him bodily with a single hand.

Gale stuck the needle in to sew him up, and Astarion yelped in pain.  Karlach let out a horrified noise and snatched Astarion from Gale’s hand.  “You’re hurting him!”

“Sorry!” Gale said, flustered.

Karlach looked down and realized she was holding Astarion by the head, and his little legs were wiggling to try and free himself.  She opened her hand, and he took in overheated breaths.  “Gods dammit!”

“Sorry, little buddy,” Karlach said.

“I didn’t realize the effigy would feel pain like that,” Gale said, hand on his chin, seemingly more fascinated than truly sorry.  “Apologies.”

“Well, it did!” Astarion said crankily.  “And I’m not your gods-be-damned little buddy, you great ignoramus!”

Shame-faced, Karlach put him down on the table.  “I’m sorry, Astarion.  Sorry.  I’m– Sorry.”

“I’m not your stupid bloody teddy bear, I’m not your pet project, I’m not your anything!  I'm not yours!”

Karlach and Gale both looked away, shamefaced.  Astarion seethed.  Wyll’s hand came down and steadied Astarion.  “Breathe, Astarion.  You’re safe.”

“Safe?  How am I ever going to be safe?  I’m a doll, and that’s an improvement for me!  Not to mention Cazador is still out there!  And whose fault is that?”

“Astarion-”

“I helped you face down Gortash, break into the vaults in a wizard tower to steal a precious book, and slay a fucking undead dragon, and what have you done for me besides offer empty promises?”

“Astarion-”

“Cazador could come find me any minute now, and I’d be even more helpless to whatever he wants to do to me than when I was his actual slave!”

Karlach got down on one knee so she could be eye-to-eye with him.  “Astarion, I’m going to keep you safe, I promise.  I promise.  If you trust me one more time, I won’t let you down again.”  She held out her hand to him, palm-up.  “Please give me another chance?”

Astarion’s anger faded into melancholy, and he sagged over and leaned on her fingers.  “I don’t suppose I have many other options.”

Karlach managed a smile.  “There we go.  Just stay by me, okay?  I won’t let anything happen to you.  I–agh!”

This last part came as flames started to lick off her skin, heat surging from the ports in her shoulders.  Astarion stumbled backwards, hair singed.

“Time to go, I think,” Wyll said.  “Karlach’s clock is running out.”

He turned around and started to open the portal back to Avernus.  Astarion’s head swung between him and Karlach.  Karlach looked absolutely heartbroken.  “I can still keep you safe.  I promise, I won’t let you down.  It’s the worst feeling in the world, when someone you trust lets you down–I won’t let it happen.”

“Karlach,” Gale said tactfully.  “Avernus might not be the best place for a creature made of cloth and cotton stuffing, don’t you think?”

Karlach reached out for Astarion again.  He stumbled backwards and fell to avoid her singeing hands.

“I’m sorry,” Karlach said.  “Wyll.  Wyll, please.”

Wyll stepped back as the portal opened.  “Astarion, Karlach’s heart is in the right place-”  Oh, a cruel thing to say, when Karlach’s heart was the reason she had to be in Avernus- “-but she has to go back to Avernus, or she’ll burn up.”

“He can stay here with me, of course,” Gale said.  “He can help me start figuring out how to help these other soul coins.”

“Those are my options?” Astarion cried.  “Either go to Avernus, or stay here and be Gale’s science project where Cazador could find me at any moment?”

Wyll held his hand out.  “I’m sorry, my friend.”

Karlach hissed in pain and stumbled towards the portal to Avernus.  A few of Gale’s nearby parchments caught fire.  Astarion looked indecisively between them.

Well, no way Cazador would bother going all the way down to the Hells.  He stepped into Wyll’s hand.

“I’m sure you’ll be hearing from us soon,” Wyll said to Gale.  He stepped into the portal back into the Hells.

***

Taglist:

@whumpsday @appelsiinilight @thatonegothlady

[bluenpinkcastle]

The History of LEGO Elves day 04

20250105: The History of LEGO Elves day 04 41071 Aira's Creative Workshop (2015, 98 pieces, 60 different parts) Aira is an elf with air and wind elemental magic powers. She has lavender tapered long hair with braids and white tips and elf ears, light nougat skin, lavender print tattoos across her forehead and white wind on one cheek, lavender eyes, a strapless white torso with dark purple and gold scale pattern with a dark purple belt with wind symbol in the center, a lavender wind tattoo on one shoulder, and a white skirt with a lavender ruffled hem and white sandals with lavender winged straps. The Elvendale Fandom wiki has a good article about Aira's personality and role in the Elves story :) Aira's hair is consistent throughout the sets she appears in, including 41071 Aira's Creative Workshop, 41073 Naida's Epic Adventure Ship, 41077 Aira's Pegasus Sleigh, 41176 Secret Market Place, 41178 Dragon Sanctuary, 41180 Ragana's Magic Shadow Castle, 41184 Aira's Airship and the Amulet Chase, and 41193 Aira and the Song of the Wind Dragon. Aira's minidoll head with the lavender forehead tattoo and wind emblem on one cheek, this torso, and this skirt appears in 41071, 41073, and 41077. The set itself consists of the minidoll Aira and the white bird Pluma. Aira has a brick-built wing set held in each hand with a light bluish gray 1x2 plate with bars on each end on a light bluish gray 1x2 by 2x2 bracket holding pearl gold minifigure wings and magenta 1x1 plates with side loops holding white plumes. A separately built work table with scissors, a ruler, brick-built jars and drawers, a white plume, and a magenta 2x4 tile with printed map sit to one side. Another built item includes white steps with dark purple tiles on top. The last small section of the build includes tan arches on a medium lavender 4x6 plate with a white bird with black designs sitting in the middle on a perch. In front of the bird are panels holding a 1x2 white printed letter with a tan printed map with a giant key. The roof of the perch building is symmetrical dark purple slopes with white plates and magenta 1x1 plates with side loops. The two roof pieces are sloped together over a medium lavender 2x2 circle tile with a printed pair of white outstretched wings. New and unique parts for this set include: -Magenta 2x4 tile with printed scroll work and a castle in the clouds (unique to this set). -Medium lavender 4x6 plate was only found in this set and Friends set 41308 Stephanie's Friendship Cakes. -Lavender 2x2 circle tile with printed white outstretched wings was found in 41071, 41077, 41078 Skyra's Mysterious Sky Castle, and 41184, as well as the Elves Magical Adventure activity book (9780545872539). -Pearl gold feathered minifigure wing was introduced in this set. -Tan 2x2 map with large key was introduced in this set and found in six of the remaining 2015 Elves sets. -Pluma the bird is unique to this set. -White 1x4 printed ruler tile is unique to this set. This set was available for purchase 1 March - 31 December 2015. The LEGO Catalogue from North America says it was $9.99 and "Includes Aira Windshistler mini-doll figure and Pluma the bird!" Parts inventory for this set can be found on BrickLink or Rebrickable with a free download of the instructions available on LEGO.com or Rebrickable.

[the-graves-family]

No. 2: Trust issues

Adam doesn’t know why he’d agreed to this. A hike with his love had sounded great when it’d been brought up at dinner a few days ago, but he hadn’t realized they’d be hiking through a forest.

A forest of beech, and ash and maples.

It’s daytime, it’s nothing like that night, but Adam feels more unsteady with each step he takes. Every rustle of leaves behind him makes him flinch a little, curling his shoulders further and further. He’s expecting the cabin to appear from amidst the trees at any moment, dark and imposing. Thinking himself above trauma doesn’t actually mean he is. He feels vulnerable and exposed and like he’s seventeen again, writhing on the ground, bleeding from his head, the moon peeking behind the thick canopy above him as his brother reaches down.

“Churri, what’s wrong? You look—”

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and Adam flinches hard, stumbling away from the presence behind him, falling on his ass as he trips on a tangle of roots. It’s not him, it’s not him. There’s no reason for his heart to be beating out of his chest, no reason for quiet whimpers, no reason at all.

The sun is shining brightly, the wind is warm and gentle. The cabin is hundreds of miles away, along with all the people inside it. The ones who abandoned him. Everything is okay, they can’t hurt him. He has to remind himself of that, and for a moment he feels pathetic. He should be past this.

Adam regrets everything as soon as he looks up, because David looks hurt. Hand still in the air where he’d laid it on his finacé’s shoulder.

They’ve never talked about it, not in detail. David knows he has a brother, and that they hadn’t parted on good terms. The details are vague, but the man isn’t dumb. Adam’s break from his family had been anything but pleasant. It’s in the way he shies away from touch, in the way he looks scared whenever he’s out of his workshop. He looks hunted anytime they’re out in public.

And Adam’s sure he looks hunted now, arms hurting from the fall, dirt and dead leaves staining his palms.

He’s hurt him. Even without meaning to.

“I’m—” He bites down on his apology and looks away, at the gnarled roots that had caused his fall. It won’t help. David is hurt, and he can guess why. Even after all their time together, all their love, all the work they’ve put into this relationship, Adam can’t help but to see someone else sometimes. It’s unfair. To the both of them.

“No, I’m sorry.”

That’s not right, David shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It doesn’t feel right, Adam is the one with an issue. He starts shaking his head, but suddenly his vision is filled with red plaid as strong arms wrap around him. David is a giant of a man, easily getting him back on his feet without ever letting go of him.

Adam melts into the hug. He’s not going to cry, that’d be ridiculous. But he soaks up the warmth and comfort his love provides.

“Let’s head home,” David murmurs into his hair, and Adam can’t help but to nod. Home, away from these memories that won’t leave him even in the daylight.

Walking back through the trail, hands clasped together in a risky display of affection, Adam looks back at the forest. No one stares back, the leaves aren’t slick with blood. But he still feels like something is hunting him.

Slowly. Methodically. Tirelessly.

Something is coming for him, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to outrun it forever.

[dear-wonderland]

Chapter 1

‘Is this love?’

Kenji Kishimoto x reader

<this takes place before shatter me>

<Contains some cussing><just in case someone needs it… (y/n); your name, (l/n) last name>

Your the adopted daughter of the Supreme Commander Anderson, you were brought in at a young age due to your intelligence when it came to tinkering with machines. Now you are know as Aaron's right hand, someone to be feared, creating all sorts of weapons for the Reestablishment, over time you have learned to keep your emotions in check and hardly ever smile... but what happens when an annoyingly cute new soldier is constantly trying to get your attention? Will your emotions start to spark again? Or will this mess of a world shatter your love story until it becomes nothing but a lost dream. Only time will tell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t know what time it was or how long I had been down here and honestly I didn’t care.

I was mindlessly tinkering with whatever I could find trying to cure my boredom, lately that seems like all I do, wake up, eat, work, and sleep, it feels like my life is constantly repeating itself, nothing ever changes, I feel like I’m slowly losing my god damn mind…

With a sigh I put down my equipment as I look at the Ak-47 I was building, I get up from my seat as I stretch looking at my surroundings, I was currently in my workshop, a giant room located under the main building in sector 45.

I take a quick look at my many projects, from pistols to tanks I have fixed and improved them all, of course I’m not the only person working in this section, but I am the one who fixes the things that no one else can, in other words I am irreplaceable to this sector, something I have worked my ass off to accomplish, Anderson might have taken me in but that doesn’t mean I got any special treatment I know damn well if I am to fail at my job I won’t go unpunished, that man has always been good at keeping everyone in there place.

I am quickly snapped out of my thoughts when I hear knocking at the door

“come in!” I say,

a soldier steps into the room

“good afternoon Miss (l/n)” the soldier gives a quick bow as a sign of respect

“Is there something you need?” I ask, the soldier was quick to answer my question,

“Sir Warner has called for you”

“has he now… for what purpose?”

“to welcome the new recruits Miss, he wants you to be ready in 8 hours”

this answer surprised me, I didn’t expect to welcome recruits so soon after the last bunch,

“very well, tell him I’ll be there”

the soldier gave one last bow as he left the room, it was quiet for a while before I decided to go to my private chambers, ‘I should probably prepare…’

—————————

After a shower I dressed into elegant clothes, just like Aaron I enjoyed looking presentable, especially when it came to important matters, I tidied up my hair as I gave myself one last look in the mirror.

After assuring myself that everything was in place I walk towards the location in which the assembly is taking place, I spotted Aaron waiting for me in the hall, once I approached him he gave me a small nod and walked into the auditorium, i quickly followed behind him.

I looked around the room towards the thousands of men, Aaron quickly found his place in front of the podium as I took my place next to him.

While he started to give his welcome speech I took the opportunity to give a closer look at the soldiers trying my best to memorize all the new faces, none of the soldiers where looking at me all to focused on the speech my brother was giving,

that was until i made eye contact with one particular man catching me a bit off guard, the man had a defined jawline and eyes as pitch-black as his hair,

for a second i wasn’t quite sure how to react so i sort of just froze, the man noticed this and i realized that he started smirking at my reaction, this pissed me off, ‘just who does this guy think he is?’,

a threw him a glare, there was no way I was going to let this guy look so damn smug for absolutely no apparent reason, unfortunately he didn’t look to intimidated by my stare and his smile only grew bigger, ‘fuck this guy!’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally chapter 1 is out! I’ll try and make the next chapters a little longer but first I wanted to get the introduction out of the way!

<Just a little note! Reader is older then Aaron (you can decide by how much I won’t specify a number) I just wanted to make her closer to Kenji’s age who if i recall correctly is 20.>

[coivi]

Cyrus exhaled a quiet huff of amusement at Tommy’s snicker, entirely unbothered by the reaction. If anything, it was refreshing—most people either gawked in horror or scrambled to cover their eyes, but Tommy simply laughed at the situation Cyrus had gotten himself into. That was a welcome change. He followed the younger man inside the workshop, his heavy, deliberate steps crunching the gravel beneath bare feet. The artificial lighting cast sharp, unflinching clarity over every cut and bruise that adorned his muscular form, the raw edges of battle still lingering on his skin. Not to mention how his skin was caked in dirt and ash, almost hindering his tan-flesh color from sight. The warmth of the store prickled against his soot-streaked body, his exposed muscles flexing subtly as he adjusted his grip on the tin box he carried, ensuring it remained secure in his grasp. He shifted his weight, the coarse sensation of dried sweat and ash clinging to him making him long for a shower, though he supposed appropriate clothing was the more immediate concern.

At the mention of another 'giant' having left clothes behind, Cyrus let out a low, appreciative chuckle, his voice a smooth, gravelly rumble that resonated deep in his chest. "Obie, huh? Must be a big bastard if his clothes might fit me," he mused, rolling his shoulders, the broad stretch of them shifting under the light. He eyed the offered overall, the fabric looking just about sturdy enough to contain him—not that he particularly minded being on display, but he supposed it was only polite to cover up, if only to avoid giving the town's authorities a reason to get involved. He took the garment with one hand, the other still gripping the tin box tightly, his fingers curling around it possessively. Even as he reached for the overalls, the flex of his forearm was noticeable, veins prominent against the dirt-smudged surface of his skin. The fabric smelled faintly of oil, sweat, and the lingering musk of another man, a scent that was oddly grounding after the chaos of the night.

Cyrus stepped into the overalls, the movement slow and unhurried, his body stretching and shifting with each motion. He pulled the garment up his legs, the fabric hugging his thick thighs as he adjusted the fit, the slight tightness becoming clear as the fabric stretched to accommodate his gargantuan thighs, thick and rounded buttocks. Cyrus had to take his free hand to his length and tuck it in a way that was not only comfortable for him, but in a way that wouldn't subject to any preying eyes—the latter of which, he failed immensely, for it was still visible as it strained across the groin area. Obie might have been big, but Cyrus was something else entirely. He fastened the front with casual ease, though the way it tugged across his broad chest and waist made it clear the fit was incredibly snug. He rolled his shoulders once more, testing the flexibility, and ran a large hand through his short-cropped hair, dislodging a bit of ash in the process. He hadn't even bothered to zip up the front of the overalls, knowing it would perhaps hinder his range of motion, thus revealing his hard, chiseled stomach and broad pectorals.

At Tommy’s question, Cyrus tilted his head, his piercing gaze settling on the younger man with quiet curiosity. "Not from around here, no," he admitted, voice smooth but edged with exhaustion, the weight of his earlier fight still evident in his tone. "And no motel yet. Wasn’t exactly planning on an extended stay." He glanced down at himself, then back up with an amused smirk, the corners of his mouth curling in that easy, self-assured way. "Though, considering the night I've had, maybe I should." His fingers absently traced the edge of the tin box, his grip on it firm, possessive. There was an unspoken significance to the object, something deeply personal, though he didn't offer an explanation. But as he stood there, he realised; he had no identification with him, no mobile phone, no money. The only way he would get out of his situation was by simply walking miles upon miles back to where he had originally parked his vehicle, deep into a forest trail, where it was silent and secluded from the world.

He adjusted the sleeves of the overall, flexing his fingers, finally allowing his stance to relax ever so slightly. The tension that had kept his body coiled, ready for another fight, finally began to ebb in the presence of another person who wasn't treating him like a walking disaster. He studied Tommy for a moment, taking in the younger man's lean build, the sharpness in his gaze, the way he carried himself—like someone who'd seen more than his fair share of trouble but wasn't eager to talk about it. That, at least, was something Cyrus could respect.

"Appreciate this," he murmured, his voice dipping just slightly lower, that natural rasp making it sound almost intimate. His gaze flicked over Tommy, not in an overt way, but enough to suggest he wasn’t just speaking about the clothes. "Not everyone would be so quick to help a naked stranger out of the kindness of their heart." His smirk returned, slow and deliberate, his eyes glinting with something knowing. He offered his free hand out to the man, to officially greet him, despite the circumstances of their first interaction, "Name's Cyrus."

CONTINUED, @adsagsona.

[emmyfairy]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write some head-cannons about giving the slashers the silent treatment for Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Billy & Stu, Vincent Sinclair

Thank you!!!

Requested

Hi I’m Em and I am in love with Vincent Sinclair (i’m imagining all ya’ll saying ‘hi em’)

reblog if you enjoy! any other ideas?

Uh oh, big boys are in the dog house. What are they like when their lovely gives them the silent treatment? 

Bubba

As soon as you skip your usual “Good Morning” he’s in tears

Once you step out of the bathroom, fresh faced and ready for a day of ignoring your man, he’s in your personal space, whining and crying, a fistful of wildflowers gripped tightly in his hand, roots still shaking dirt onto the floor

You'd have to clean that up so….

Honestly, just take the flowers and forgive him sweetie, he’s just gonna cry and whinge until you do, and no he won't admit he did anything wrong because he doesn't care

Not in a bad way, but your anger is too distracting for him to remember properly 

Thomas

Notices right away

Is worried right away

He’s so used to and in love with your babbling, nodding his head along with you, so when it’s sudden radio silence, when all of a sudden you won't even look at him? Instant heartbreak

Did he do something? Say something? Did someone else? Don’t you love him anymore?

It hasn't even been an entire day and you have this 6’5 hulking giant of a man literally at your feet

Im serious, after a few hours he can't stand it, bails on his chores, finds you and immediately drops to his knees, hugging your legs and burying his face in your tummy

He only peels himself away when he feels your hand start running through his hair (i've decided no one can stay mad at him he’s too soft)

After you coax him off of his knees the two of you have an open conversation and communicate your feelings in a healthy way, solving all the problems and boom sunshine and rainbows baby

Billy & Stu

We all know these two share a brain cell, and once ya’ll are together its split amongst you three

They do NOT catch onto your mood for a whileee

Honestly it’s probably one of your friends, or even your mom, that clues them in

They’re used to you being a bit on the quiet side, heaven knows the pair can entertain each other for hours with dumb boy stuff, and they spend their nights, well, ya’know…

When they do realize your unhappiness and silence these boys go the wallet route

Im talking flowers, chocolate, nice dinner, shoes, that outfit you were eyeing at the mall last week, and more flowers

You do eventually forgive them, but they honestly aren't much wiser afterwards

Vincent

Ngl he doesn't notice at first, not in a bad way, it’s just he gets so invested in his art

There are many nights he stays in his workshop, meddling away at his latest project, often skipping meals unless you bring them to him

I love this man okay, but baby can be a little bit of an airhead at times

Bo and Lester have both noticed by now and let’s just say dinner time is Awkward✨ 

By now Vinny is catching onto your cold shoulder 

Good thing he wears that mask because if you could see the pout on his lil face? All anger would be gone with the wind

Vince doesn’t really know what to do, his brothers sure as hell aren't helpful, so he does the only thing he can think of

Art, art and groveling 

He sketches a portrait of you, far too well done to be a quick one, and it almost encaptures how gorgeous he thinks you are

Once the sketch is in your hands, he’s slipping into bed with you, not bothering to move the covers, just smooshing against you, every inch of him on every inch of you, holding you close

When you look down to where he is parasitically attached to your chest, his eye is shining so sadly, there is no way you could stay mad at him

He’s just too cute, sorry I don't make the rules

[fruityfroggy]

I genuinely can't tell if this is good anymore. But I spent so long on it, maybe some feedback on this wonky one shot ficthing could help T-T

Am I...Doing This Right?

OC X CANON WARNING (you have been warned)

Pairing: Dikke x Verdigris

Word count: 764

A/N: Dikke's anecdote did things to my brain chemistry, so I have instantly been distracted from the fic I was working on (as well as the fic I was going to write before finishing said fic cuz I got distracted by that before this). What else is new, right? This is the fruity blob of nonsense we're talking about, ofc it ended up this way. Anyways, this fic may not be as juicy as the last one, but we’re making do. Awkward lesbians is sorta the vibe I was going for. Hope I did okay on that.

The wind blew swift and sharp that evening, causing the loose strands of Verdigris' hair to whip around with it. She was getting a breath of fresh air after hours of sitting and working in her workshop. A small walk would do her good, and she knew it.

By the distant trees, a figure stood tall and slender. Pale white hair cascaded down her dark cape, wavering in the wind like rippling water. It seems that Dikke was out here as well.

It wasn't uncommon to see her outside at night, but this time around, daylight hadn't even left the sky yet. Curious, Verdigris walked over to her, careful not to disrupt the judge’s pondering as she stepped beside her.

Despite her efforts, Dikke seemed to notice her fairly quickly, turning her head just slightly to glance in her direction. “Good evening,” she greeted her with a slight smile. But a distant look was in her eyes, suggesting that her mind was still elsewhere.

Verdigris had noticed this, but she greeted her back and looked into the distance for a while, trying to keep it off her mind. But she couldn’t. It felt a bit nosy to ask such a question, but Verdigris just had to know.

“You seem a bit…troubled today. Is there something bothering you?” A look of worry softly spread across her gentle features, as she carefully glanced up at her.

“Perhaps…but ‘tis not of thy concern. Worry not about my troubles, Verdigris.” Dikke looked away for a moment, the front two strands of her hair blew almost mesmerizingly in the air, forcing Verdigris to look away as well.

Before she could reply though, a giant gust of wind cut her off suddenly; even colder and sharper against her skin than before. Maybe she should've worn a little more overtop before heading out. But it was a little too late at the moment.

As sudden as the wind had hit her, a warmth wrapped firmly around her shoulders in response, pulling Verdigris out of her thoughts. "Thou should wear more in weather like this. Such neglect of thy health shall do nothing but harm to thee..." Those words may sound a bit harsh on paper, but Dikke's voice sounded warmer than most would expect. Glancing up at her again, Verdigris finally processed what had happened. The warmth around her was the cape of a certain judge beside her.

Maybe that cape was thicker than it looked, or maybe it was the heat that quickly rose to her cheeks from the situation. Either way, Verdigris didn't seem to feel the chilly air anymore in that moment. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

Dikke's gaze shifted around a bit, unsure where to look, now that they’re standing this close to each other. Despite that, she still reached a shaky hand over to Verdigris and placed it gingerly on her waist, pulling her a little closer. Why she did any of this was unbeknownst to her. What started off as an impulsive act of protectiveness, quickly became more forward than intended, and the flowery language needed to resolve such a situation just doesn’t come naturally to her. What has she gotten herself into? Things weren’t supposed to unfold this way.

Without even realizing, a lengthy silence had dragged out between them. All they could do was feel their breaths quickening, as their sides pressed together warmly. “Thank you…for the kind gesture” Verdigris finally managed to push out. “…No need” the much taller arcanist replied, still struggling to make eye contact.

Fine, since they were at this point already, Dikke might as well take a risk. Risks weren't new to her at all. But unplanned risks...unplanned risks..like this, why were they so hard? Slowly, she took the inventor's hand in hers, feeling its coldness against her skin. Her thumb grazed the back of her hand so carefully, it was as if she was going to break it if she wasn’t careful enough. She glanced down to check Verdigris' reaction, watching her gaze as it shifts towards her hand, then back up to meet her eyes. Verdigris...such a sight for sore eyes that it aches elsewhere...

Something different danced across Dikke's icy blue eyes, accompanied by a slight, warmer hue. A soft smile pulled at both their lips as they looked at each other for a little longer than they should.

"What's on your mind now?"

“…Thee…’twas thee from the start…thou who occupies my thoughts…”

“…! what?…”

“What?”

Maybe things just won’t go as smoothly as they could be…