#Initially I planned for it to be in color. But the laziness kicked in so :V

[cheezyharu]

Even now, it still feels strange living without you by my side.

Mild vent/Phigr.Os Program lore cause of some things at the beginning of the week.

Aka. I may have accidentally written doomed Yuri and I thought it (somewhat) fits the situation I'm in

[polyamorousmisanthrope]

Organization, Self-discipline, Distractability, and a Rant

A friend of mine re-posted this tweet. I am quite certain that because of this friend’s (VERY REAL) struggles there was a feeling of being seen and validated. And that’s a valid point of view. If something comforts you in your struggles, that’s valid, no kidding. And this article might annoy you. Scroll on by. I’m not wanting to dump on what keeps you going. Times are rough enough. Seriously…

My initial reaction before logic kicked in was nearly incandescent rage. Which led to this rabbit hole as I tried to deal with it.

Why did a little meme make me so mad?

So, remember how it took me thirty years to vacuum a closet? I could have as easily said it took me thirty years to pay my bills or cook a meal or several other things.

Oh sure, I’m organized now. I’m talking “color-coded boxes when it is time to move” level of organization, ‘kay? But even though other people don’t see it, I still remember being shamed in fourth grade because of the desk cubby crammed full of books and papers, and being asked, “You’re so smart, how come you can’t–” about So. Many. Things.

I didn’t become organized by ignoring reality

I am not naturally organized. I am not naturally industrious, and I am not naturally all that productive. I’d call myself lazy, but that invites a lecture from anyone who loves me about being too hard on myself.

I did, at some point, need to accept certain realities. Not paying bills can land one in court. Disorganization can be a big problem in one’s professional life. In my own case, I also have a big problem with depression, so I cannot count day to day being on the ball and thinking clearly. (I mean, really, this rant was because of an initial reaction of NOT thinking clearly)

So, shooting for some damn Platonic Form of “Organized and Disciplined” in my case is a recipe for failure. I’m going to bet it is for you, too.

If your plan has no way to account for delays and failure points, it’s a wish, not a plan. There used to be a fashion in self-development on YouTube to have The Perfect Morning Routine. You know, get up, do twenty minutes of yoga, make yourself the perfect nutritionally-balanced breakfast, read some Improving Literature, and bike to work… that kind of thing. To tell on myself, yeah, I’m trying to get in more stretching and yeah, I use a yoga app for that. My general idea is that I’ll get up and do twenty minutes of yoga (stop laughing at me) and then do my day. I did not, in fact, get right up and do that. It’s almost ten in the morning, I’ve been up since six, and I’m here writing this incredibly detailed rant and not getting in that stretching. So I’m failing, right? Wrong.

“Imperfectly Perfect” has a lot going for it My goal for the month is to get in ten minutes of yoga a day as an average measured over a month. I’ll throw in a few minutes today at some point. Probably after I write this. While an organized person looks like they’re doing things in a strict way and in a specific order, that may not be entirely the case. Sure, you have to show up at the dentist at a specific time, or take your meds before you eat or something. But what time you do your writing or wash your dishes has a lot more wiggle room. Let it have that wiggle room and let goals that don’t need to be exact be inexact.

“Good Enough” and “Perfect” are two different things. Good enough is better than Perfect. Bed making… I’ve heard people say that bed-making is too much trouble. When I hear that, I almost always presume another choke point — bed against the wall makes making it a pain in the ass, depression makes it hard to get OUT of bed, never mind making it, things like that. But… If the only time you make your bed is when you have the energy to make it neatly enough you won’t be yelled at on Parris Island, you have absolutely confused “Perfect” and “Good Enough.”

I took that picture thirty seconds before I wrote this. I did no adjustments on the bed. It’s just how I made it this morning. I woke up this morning cranky and wanting to punch Humanity in the mouth. So, not motivated. This meets my personal definition for good enough. It’s made. I’m dressed and doing my day.

Good. Enough.

Defining Good Enough will help you. What is “Good Enough” in your life?Ignoring real issues of executive function will set you up for failure.

Are you distractable? I am. In fact, this article is a prime example of distractability for me. I haven’t written what I plan to do for the day in my Bullet Journal and haven’t done most of my Wednesday morning chores. I got ranty and just had to sit down and write this. That yoga I was going to do? That planning out the day I (usually) do? Obviously not happening right now as I ranty, ranty, rant.

But my life is set up to account for things like this. I accept and plan for the fact that stuff like this happens! I have a means to track what needs to be done that won’t let the genuinely important and urgent things fall through the cracks. Even though I am currently caught up in the glorious dopamine hit of ranting, those things that need to be done are quietly sitting in their places, waiting for my attention.

Thing is, it’s more than just a to-do list. It’s setting up your life to account for how your brain works.

That might mean storing your extra sheets under your mattress so you will immediately re-make the bed when you wash your sheets, or hanging a mask on the back of your door so you don’t forget to put then thing on before you leave your apartment. (Yeah, I know, that looked oddly specific, didn’t it?)Being organized and disciplined is a skill. Mastering skills take time.

Think of anything you know how to do — playing an instrument, cooking a meal, writing fiction, driving, whatever.You might have wanted to master it overnight. But if you actually developed the skill instead of stopping the activity, you probably put in a lot of time and effort. You probably had failures that made you wince at yourself.

Learning the skill of organization is no different.

I know that saying it took me thirty years of solid work to get organized seems like hyperbole. It’s not. It was really that difficult for me.

Which is, I know, why images like the above set me off a little. I know the intention is to make people feel better about a mutual struggle.

But it also makes me feel like in the common cultural mind, my life’s work was mostly a waste of time.

[wutheringmights]

Can I be greedy and ask for all of the boys ? And any characters you have strong opinions on? Pretty please? With lots of cherries and chocolate on top? ( for the ask meme ofc)

Anon, I'll finish up all of the boys in the Chain just for you. And trust me, I have an Infinite Amount of Strong Opinions. You have no idea how Opinionated I Am.

If anyone is coming in late to this, here are the boys I have done already and a short summary of my thoughts (click the hyperlinks to get the full Opinion):

Warriors: he's best when he's the trashy anti-Link, and I like him so much

Twilight: kind of boring, but I have a soft spot for him anyway because you never forget your first

Wind: should have been aged up a little so that he can have that identity crisis I'm craving

This... gets long. Really long. 3-hours-of-work-long. Before you read, please note that even when I speak negatively about something, it’s not to diss anyone who does like the thing. I’m not vague posting or being passive aggressive. This is all written in good humor and good faith. 

That being said, let’s a-go!

-Sky-

What I love about them: He has one of the best character arcs of all the Links. I love that he starts off being lazy and kind of a jerk, but grows as a person because he wants to save his friend. And I love that he's truly the most courageous Link. He has no other successful hero of past or legacy to lean back upon to reassure him. He walked into that fight with Demise with no assurance from anyone that he would succeed. Yet, he does it anyway. Because he's a true hero and someone had to be one. And he's rewarded with a curse that he does not initially take seriously. He thinks he's saved everyone, yet he's cursed his spirit, possibly his bloodline, and his entire legacy of the kingdom of Hyrule into a doomed cycle of destruction. All because he dared to face evil incarnate. I love him.

What I hate about them: You know how I called Twilight boring? I should have saved that critique for Sky. LU Sky is actually the most boring interpretation of his character. All of his negative traits? Gone. All of his positives? Also gone. He's the blandest version of himself, and like Twilight, I now feel like I gotta add some spice to him to make him more interesting while still keeping him recognizable. Even so, he's still one of my favorite Links.

Favorite Moment/Quote: When he kicks Twilight's ass at sword fighting. That's stuff is *chef's kiss*

What I would like to see more focus on: You would think that there would be more angst out there about him realizing that he's actually been cursed, but it's still kind of hard to find. He's the Cursed Knight! The beginning of a terrible legacy! Imagine meeting a bunch of heroes for the first time, and instead of being relieved at having someone who understands your experiences, you're filled with horror at realizing that your victory was a false one. You didn't win. Your spirit will never be at rest. Imagine dealing with that realization for the rest of your life. You could never be at peace.

What I would like to see less focus on: I love that he loves his wife, but he's more just the fact that he's married, y'know? I would like to see a little less blind devotion to Hylia and Zelda, and more complicated feelings about being manipulated into being the hero.

Favorite pairing with: Sun/Link/Groose OT3! I have no reasoning behind this other than I like Groose and Groose definitely had a crush on SkSw Link.

Favorite friendship: I won't answer Groose again even if I want to, so I'll say Warriors. I cannot begin to describe how elite this friendship would be if you gave it a chance. They're just two boys dealing with unique positions of leadership and responsibility. They would probably even bond over being shitheads at different ends of the shithead spectrum. It's so good, okay?

NOTP: Ghirahim. I'm not too adverse to this one, but the ship hinges on whether you can redeem Ghirahim or not. In my opinion, Ghirahim is awesome because he's such a fun villain. Redeeming him ruins the fun.

Favorite headcanon: I have a whole life story planned out for Sky. Basically, he lives to be close to 500 years old by the power of the Triforce. He is the Link throughout the Era of Chaos who banishes the Dark Interlopers to the Twilight Realm and seals the Triforce in the Sacred Realm. He actually seals himself in the Sacred Realm as well to keep the Triforce safe, and he fought Ganondorf in when he broke in. Sky, like Time and Wind, does not get a happy ending.

-Four-

What I love about them: Four is origin of the heroes of Hyrule being known for being children. What a legacy to leave behind. He's such an interesting case of an incarnation of the Hero's Spirit, too. He fought Vaati, and he did his job so well that Demise's next incarnation had to be Ganondorf. Four did his job the best out of everyone, and it came at the cost of creating a magic sword that changed him permanently. I like to think that the Four Sword was not meant to split him, that it was a mistake he made with the design. And it's sad, isn't it? You made a defective sword, and like any good sword, it has a symbolic double edge. It gifted you with so much, and yet he can never be the same again. And his story is never well-remembered because it is overshadowed by the Links who fought the King of Evil. He's does so much, yet his legacy is underappreciated.

What I hate about them: I want to prepare you for this Opinion, because I know it's unpopular. Are you ready? Okay. I don't like the Colors. I'm sorry. I want to like them, but they don't interest me at all. Because they are parts of Four’s personality, they have to be one-note archetypes which does not make for exciting storytelling. I also haven't found a fic yet that has been from Four's POV that did the internal monologue of the Colors in a way that wasn't a pain in the ass to read. Maybe if someone can figure out how to do the Colors in a way that doesn't feel like a drag, I would like them more. But in the end, I think Four himself is more interesting than the Colors.

Favorite Moment/Quote: The fact that he didn't want to touch the Master Sword because he doesn't trust magic swords. That is every I need to know about his opinion on his own adventures.

What I would like to see more focus on: I want more of Four as Four. It's getting harder to find content of Four being his own person first and the Colors second.

What I would like to see less focus on: Four being the Colors first and his own person second. There is something about viewing Four as this cover identity for the Colors that doesn't feel right. There's a balance that needs to be strike between his ability to split, how that affects his every day life, and his own identity of being Four. I think I may have read one fic that hit that sweet spot for me, but still.

Favorite pairing with: Shadow. I'm such a sucker for befriending and falling for the enemy. That is all.

Favorite friendship: Dot! Their friendship is super cute. I like the idea of them being super close when they were younger and struggling to keep the friendship going as they age due to how much their paths in life diverge.

NOTP: This isn't necessarily a Four or an LU problem, but people who ship the Colors together? Bro. C'mon.

Favorite headcanon: I'm torn between two different Four and the Master Sword headcanons. On one hand, Four thinking that the Master Sword is just legend until he meets Sky and everyone else is just a fun idea. He sees the legendary sword for the first time and his mind is blown. On the other hand, I also like my Four with a side of hubris. What if he had the option on his quest to draw the Master Sword himself? What if he could tell that if he did that, the consequences would be terrible. He's not sure what would happen, but he knows it would be terrible. So he decided to make his own sword instead to disastrous results. Wouldn't that be tragic or what?

-Time-

What I love about them: Last winter, I did a two hour powerpoint for my friends about the Legend of Zelda timeline. During that powerpoint, I was rating every iteration of Link. What I said about the Hero of Time then holds true to my thoughts of LU Time now. Time is the original Link, more so than Sky in the lore and Legend/Hyrule in real life. Every other hero is a reflection of him. So the fact that his story is about the loss of childhood and the tragedy of that is incredible, and you can see those themes reflected in every other game. Moreso, he’s the only Link with a confirmed tragic ending. Not only does he end his life unsatisfied, but his adventure is failure on every timeline. In the adult timeline, Hyrule is swallowed by the sea. In the child one, Ganondorf returns again. In the fallen timeline, Hyrule fell. I like the idea since that the games themselves are the legends that are past down about each hero, Hylians have also remembered Time as a tragic figure. Yet, they also remember that the happy moments for his life come from small acts of kindness. Even someone as sad as him finds joy in helping others, even if it’s just to small deeds that will not be heralded as grand heroic quests. It’s beautiful.

What I hate about them: This is more about Mask than Time, but Mask is not an adult in a child’s body. He did not rewind time in Termina enough to be considered mentally an adult. He’s a young teenager at best, and that’s me being generous. He is a child who was forced to be an adult and despite the gods being done with him, he cannot conceive of ever having a childhood again. So he can say all he wants that he’s an adult, but he is not. That’s just what he thinks he is.

Favorite Moment/Quote: Anytime we get a flashback to him being a younger adult is great. I want to see more of his in this his early adulthood.

What I would like to see more focus on: I think I just want more of Time being... not a bad leader, but being an imperfect one. I honestly think he’s only the leader because he’s the oldest and enough of the heroes recognize the title of Hero of Time. But he is not the leader type, and he is struggling to keep it together and has to defer to Twilight and Warriors for help a lot. 

What I would like to see less focus on: I’m not the biggest fan of Dad!Time for any of the Links. He’s not emotionally ready for it. And I think he defaults to treating the boys like adults because that’s how he wanted to be treated when he was their age. 

Favorite pairing with: Malon. He has this great partnership of equal respect with her and it’s just. So good.

Favorite friendship: Linebeck. I know. This exists only in my head. But if these two ever meet, you cannot convince me that they would not get along swimmingly. It would be so good (once Linebeck gets over his crush on Time and stops hitting on him, of course).

NOTP: Child Timeline Zelda. Let me explain: I fully believe in Bi Time supremacy, and when in OoT, he definitely had a crush on Sheik. However, one of the worst parts of rewinding time and being in the child timeline is that Zelda is a completely different person now. They may have been friends in the other timeline, but her life experiences are completely different now. She is not the same person as he once knew. And it’s tragic to know someone as who they could have been, not as they are.

Favorite headcanon: After Termina, Time spent a lot of time with the Nabooru because out of everyone he knew, she’s the only who took him seriously even as a child. She has big older sister energy, and he considers her a part of his family. However, being treated as such made it easier for him to ignore his issues and put off his healing process by a few years.

-Legend-

What I love about them: Veteran of Heroes! What a freaking title. I love that he keeps on finding adventures, and that he keeps hustling. Even if he complains about never getting a break, you can tell that he loves helping others. He loves being on the road, never settling down, and finding adventure after adventure. Honestly, if any of the Links had a calling to be a hero, it’s him. Is he tired? Sure. Is he a little jaded after having saved Hyrule and a bunch of other kingdoms multiple times? Yes. But at the end of the day, he likes being a hero. This is who he is. His complaining is not genuine; he just plays the martyr because, at this point, he’s earned the right to.

What I hate about them: If you can’t tell by now, I have a, uh, different interpretation of Legend from popular canon. Fandom Legend is not right to me. He is unrecognizable. It is hard to write him because I feel like I have to balance what other people think Legend should be versus how I think he is. The people who are big Legend enjoyers probably feel the same way about my version of Warriors, and that’s fine. I’m not going to gel with every character and I don’t expect everyone to gel with how I see characters either. It’s goes both ways, y’know.

Favorite Moment/Quote: I like how subtly he tried to approach the Wolfie problem at first, trying to ask questions and get more proof before confronting Twilight. It’s a good touch.

What I would like to see more focus on: If I had to choose one thing, it’s this one throw away line about him never wanting to settle down. I’m telling you, folks! He likes his lifestyle! And did you see him when he does presenting the origins of the hero? He’s not bitter about being a hero! Legend is moody, but he is not angsty about the whole hero thing. Have fun with him please!

What I would like to see less focus on: If you can’t tell by now, Legend is my least favorite Link. There is a lot I want to see less of, but just to name one thing, it’s the headcanon that Fable is his sister. I live and die by common born Link, and whether he’s a legitimate heir or the royal bastard, I am more than bored with the persistent Prince!Legend content.

Favorite pairing with: Marin. It’s a good tragic story and I like it well enough. She’s cute, and he’s cute with her.

Favorite friendship: Warriors. I’m with everyone else on these two have peak sibling energy. They tease and pick on each other, but only they are allowed to mess with each other. They’re each other’s bully, and it’s always good to see.

NOTP: I do not have enough energy to have a lot of strong opinions about Legend’s romantic relationships, but I will mentioned that I have lost a lot of love for Ravio recently and am liking seeing him with Legend less and less. I have no better reason for this than the fact that I finally played ALBW and hate how many of my hard earned rupees he’s taken from me by withholding important, lifesaving items. Rat bastard.

Favorite headcanon: Remember my headcanon about him being the coolest bad boy folk hero on the block because everyone thinks he kidnapped Zelda? Yeah, I still stand by that one. I did good there.

-Hyrule-

What I love about them: If there is any Link that I would call a gutter rat, it is this one. I struggle a bit to talk about Hyrule since his games gives us so little, but in the end, I always fall back on him being a hero of the people. He is the one who has nothing and relates the best to people who are at their lowest. Yet, he is still a hero. He earns the right to be a hero because he helped Impa in her time of need. He’s selfless and competent. Even if he never got a traditional education, I bet he’s wicked smart too. He is the Link that symbolizes all of the parts of the Triforce the most. And, god. I cannot talk about him without mentioning the blood sacrifice part of LA. It’s such a cool concept, and I cannot imagine what it must be like to go from being the rough and tumble, win-at-all-costs fighting to protecting yourself first because if you don’t, the consequences are disastrous. It’s paradoxical, and it must be such a different mindset to fall into. But it must also be a blessing in disguise since now he has a reason to finally care about himself.

What I hate about them: Who started the Hyrule is innocent headcanon? Come over here because we need to exchange some words. If there is anyone who would be a realist and know how the world works, it’s this guy. And while we’re here, who came up with the Hryule is always lost headcanon? I also have some words for you. And you know what? WHILE WE’RE HERE, who let him be named Hyrule? I’m have more than choice words for you. His name scheme is the bane of my existence and the express reason why I don’t write him more. God.

Favorite Moment/Quote: That one panel where he takes utter delight in Warriors hiding from his scorned lovers? That is a central pillar in my understanding of Hyrule.

What I would like to see more focus on: Again, his relationship with other people. Even if his games are lacking in NPCs, we know from lore that he’s a good guy who will jump in to help others. He must know plenty of people, and I want to see who exists in his world with him. 

What I would like to see less focus on: I have an on-going joke with my brother that certain characters are Catholic, even if Catholicism does not exist in the world of the thing we’re watching or playing. Of course, we’re not being serious. we’re just joshing around. So imagine the gut punch I feel whenever I see people say Hyrule is Christian and realize that they’re being serious. I just can’t take it seriously.

Favorite pairing with: Aurora. It’s cute and I’m a sucker for that hero and royalty dynamic, especially when the hero is a peasant. It’s so cheesy, but I love it.

Favorite friendship: Legend. But not the way everyone else pairs them up as the grumpy one and the sunshine one. I think of it more as them being the pinnacle of boys being boys. They’re shitheads. They do stupid shit together. They both have a dark sense of humor. They joke that they’re practically the same person sometimes.

NOTP: uhhhhhhhhh.... Is he paired with anyone else?

Favorite headcanon: I love the idea that he just likes his way of life and refuses to accept anyone saying otherwise. Legend wants to teach him to read? Sorry, but he’s never had to read before in his life so he’s pretty sure he’ll never need it anyway. Want to participate in the treasured Hylian tradition of piercing your ears when you come of age? Why would he ever do that when a monster could rip those earrings off? He’s stuck in his ways and it frustrates everyone else to no end, but he has no interest in ever changing.

-Wild-

What I love about them: When I was 9, I spent my time online on Legend of Zelda forums. I remember one of my forum friends saying that they wanted a Legend of Zelda game where Link lost. And I think of that friend whenever I think about Wild. BOTW Link is the best Link that has ever been. He is the epitome of every trait we associate with any Link. He’s smart and sassy. He’s hard working and kind. But underlining all of that is the fact that he’s still the one who failed. If Demise’s Curse in SkSw is the set-up, the Great Calamity is the payoff. And I haven’t even talked about how confirming him as being non-verbal before the Calamity does so much for his characterization. I don’t even know where to start or how to articulate it. By game storyline alone, Wild is one of my favorites.

What I hate about them: You guys knew this one was coming, but I’m going to have to say it anyway. Fandom Wild.... not good. I’ve said it for half of these boys so far, but god is it true. I have a way I see Wild that is rarely done in the fandom. Fandom Wild has a lot of the traits I also see in Wild, but to all of the extremes. I will mention one thing in particular as being a pet peeve, and it’s how some people headcanon him as always being nonverbal. I know what they’re trying to do, and I think they’re on to something, but they’re also missing the point of what BOTW Link’s character arc is. I just wish more people would forget fandom and work more off of the games for how to characterize him.

Favorite Moment/Quote: Weirdly enough, my favorite moment is when he got mad at everyone for making fun of his Gerudo outfit, so he dumped Goron Spice in his cooking. It’s encapsulates a part of his character I think a lot of people forget about.

What I would like to see more focus on: I think he has a really complicated relationship with his past. He said himself that his old self felt like a different person, and I think that should be explored a lot more. That idea actually fascinates me so much that instead of CTB, I almost wrote a character study fic about Wild. His emotions are not as simple as feeling guilty about letting his friends die and not preventing the Calamity. His emotions would be so complicated and because I don’t have the time to explore it, someone else needs to do it for me.

What I would like to see less focus on: There is a weird fascination with Wild having memory loss and essentially being like a kid again. And this feels infantilizing to me. It honestly bugs me a lot every time I see it.

Favorite pairing with: I can’t decide between Zelda, Mipha, and Revali. They’re all different dynamics and they’re all good.

Favorite friendship: Paya. I firmly believe that Paya is Wild’s best friend. I am the only one in the world who believes this. But I am also the only one in the world who is correct. 

NOTP: Wild is good with everyone. Good for him!

Favorite headcanon: An essential scene of my Wild character study I will never write is one where his horse dies. He goes into shock and walks back to Kakariko to talk to Impa. But once he goes to her, he breaks down in tears and has an absolute melt down over the horse. And Impa sagely says, “It’s not about the horse, is it?” She’s implying that he’s actually mourning the loss of his friends, Hyrule, his life, everything-- but through his tears, he keeps tell her that she’s wrong. He barely remembers them. He doesn’t know them. He doesn’t have any feelings about them. He just really loved that horse. But Impa refuses to listen to him, just repeating over and over again: “it’s not really about the horse.”

And that’s it! That’s all of my opinions! I know a lot of my opinions are polarizing, but everything I said is in good faith, and I am not trying to diss anyone for how they approach these characters.

I welcome you to send me your Opinions on the Links, even if it’s just to disagree with me. I’m cool with it, and I like knowing what everyone else thinks!

[palerosetumbles]

i wrote some soft steddie... enjoy 💓

Steve seldom lets himself get bored. There is always something productive he could be doing. He could exercise and get his mom off his back for ‘gaining two pounds,’ as she so bluntly put it. Or he could finally apply to community college—even though his gap year technically isn’t up yet… He looks out his bedroom window, the orange-colored sunset fully submerged behind the trees surrounding his backyard. Calling Robin to see if she’s free to hang out is the option he settles on. Now that marching band season is over, it’s not like she’s got anything else to do on this lazy Saturday evening.

“Sorry Steve, I can’t today,” Robin says like she’s in a hurry.

Steve raises an eyebrow and the grip he’s got on his phone reflexively tightens. “What do you mean you can’t today? I thought you didn’t have any more marching band shit to do?” he asks, voice rising in pitch and mild panic as he flops down onto his bed.

“Well, believe it or not, I made plans with someone else,” she says matter-of-factly.

Steve’s mind initially draws a blank at who else would want to hang with Robin, so he asks her, “Who is it?”

“None of your business, Mom!” Robin emphasizes the term of annoying endearment by stretching out the vowel. Robin’s tells are so obvious, especially when she’s trying, and failing, to be secretive. Steve deduces she must be hanging out with someone she’s interested in. Why else would she keep this information from him, her absolute best friend?

“Is it a date?” Steve bluntly asks.

“No, Steve!” Robin retorts with a noticeable voice crack.

Steve sits up, knowingly beaming to himself. “Robin~” he practically sings, “you know you’re gonna have to tell me eventually~” Steve can’t help but roll onto his stomach and kick his legs excitedly like a schoolgirl. He totally gets her reluctance to count her chickens before they hatch, but to not bask in the glow of scoring a date alongside her best friend? Steve knows he’d be chewing Robin’s ear off he was about to go on a date with—

The name that pops into Steve’s head makes his ears begin to ring with the sound of flatline static. It’s so deafening he misses how Robin’s response becomes muffled, like she’s talking through water. He only hears the words “just getting ice cream” and “does not count”; all the rest is lost to him .

Eddie Munson.

They’ve only recently started seeing more of each other, thanks to Dustin’s insistence on him joining the Hellfire Club. Even though Steve still thinks it’s weird that one of his few social activities is hanging out with a bunch of high schoolers. He will admit, Eddie does come up with some pretty cool stories and maybe he’s actually not that bad of a guy once you get to know him. But dating him? Absolutely not. Steve doesn’t date guys, let alone Eddie Munson. His long, curly hair, crooked, sharp-toothed smile, and brown doe eyes aren’t that attractive. Well, when those traits are applied to a girl they’re really attractive. But Eddie ?

“Steve, are you even listening to me?!” Robin shouts so loud, Steve’s phone’s speaker starts to buzz.

“Y-yeah,” Steve says, blinking back into reality before his brain could try to dig itself deeper into the ten-foot-deep hole it made for itself.

“You got what I said?”

“Ye-yeah?”

“You're thinking about Eddie, aren’t cha?”

“Ye—NO!” Steve catches himself. Robin plays way dirtier than him when it comes to prying for information.

“Oh Steve, my young, bisexual padawan—”

“What does that even mean!?” Steve cuts her off and adjusts his seat so he’s sitting cross-legged, hugging his pillow.

“It means you like both boys and girls and you’re a trainee Jedi, don’t derail the topic!” Her voice crescendos before calmly continuing. “Anyway, it is completely normal to just randomly tune out the world and have a full-on gay panic. We’ve all been there, me especially. However, the sooner you accept it, the more at peace you will be.” Steve can practically feel big sister energy emanating through his phone. It better not turn him even more gay than he, apparently, already is or something…

“I’m not having a ‘full-on gay panic.’” Steve mimics the tone and delivery of Robin’s voice, completely missing how she expertly diverted the topic from her “not” date to his “not” gay panic.

“Uh-huh, sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!” Steve whines indignantly. “Eddie and I are just….” He hesitates against his will and cringes at himself. There’s no way he can say they’re “just friends,” because that’s something you say when you certainly are more than “just friends.” Even though they totally are just friends. What do you call the person who leads Dungeons and Dragons games? Dungeon Master or something? That honestly sounds way worse.

“Just what, Steve?” Robin asks, sugary sweet enough to give Steve a toothache. Shoot, he’s taking too long to respond. This won’t help his chances in convincing her.

“… acquaintances.” Steve practically feels the word deflate as it leaves his lips. It’s better than nothing.

“Acquaintances?” Robin parrots in disbelief.

“Acquaintances,” Steve confirms, lowering his voice for good measure. Girls (and Dustin) always take him more seriously when he lowers his voice.

“Hey, I’ve got an amazing idea. Why don’t you strengthen your acquaintanceship with Eddie and hang out with him instead of me!” Robin suggests cheerfully.

“Robin, I don’t want to hang out with Eddie! Besides, I don’t even have his phone number!” Steve gripes. This should be the real end of the conversation, it’s not like Robin can immediately send him his phone number—now wouldn’t that be crazy and convenient.

But Robin isn’t so easily defeated. “Well, it’s getting close to seven o’clock. It’s a Saturday. You know he’s probably at home in his uncle’s trailer, practicing guitar or outside smoking something.”

Steve bites down on the inside of his cheek, hard. The odds of Robin being right are incredibly high, considering Eddie also has a very limited social life and predictable personal schedule. “We don’t know that for sure. I was apparently wrong for assuming you’d be free.”

“Well, then there’s only one way to find out. You’ve got a car.”

“I’m not driving over to visit anyone!” Steve struggles to not raise his voice too much. Even though his phone conversations mostly go unnoticed and uninterrupted, his Mom has freakishly good hearing. He supposes all those years frequenting country clubs have made her a pretty good eavesdropper.

“Then enjoy your lonely Saturday. I gotta get going, though. I’ll talk to you later Steve, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Robin quickly disconnects the line before Steve can get a word in edgewise.

Enjoy your lonely Saturday? What bullshit! Steve will not be having a lonely Saturday and he’s going to prove it to Robin and her “not” date. He quickly shrugs on his jacket and slips on his Reeboks before he storms out of his room.

“Where are you going, sweetie?” his mom says from the living room sofa as he passes its archway. She’s watching reruns of I Love Lucy with a glass of red wine in her perfectly manicured hand.

“Out with friends,” Steve says even though it’s a lie.

“Just be back by midnight,” she reminds him sternly, pointing at the clock near the door.

Steve nods, grabbing his keys off of his designated hook near the door. “I will,” he lies again. There’s honestly no telling when he’ll be home because he has no idea where he’s going to go. He just needs to get out of his house. If he stays here, then Robin wins.

Bounding down the front porch, Steve strides to his car, unlocks the door, and sits in the front seat. It’s honestly a little too warm to be wearing a jacket, but Steve keeps it on anyway. Maybe he’ll decide to do something in an air-conditioned room and he’ll need it. Key in the ignition, Steve gives it a twist. When the engine purrs to life, he grips the steering wheel and closes his eyes.

Where to go, what to do?

Maybe if he just starts driving, his body will take him somewhere. Not a bad idea considering he lives pretty close to the main road in Hawkins. Steve turns his head and shifts into reverse to pull out of the driveway. Theoretically, he could go anywhere in town. The diner, the bar, the liquor store, the trailer park…

Steve’s foot presses a little too hard down onto the gas when the trailer park crosses his mind and his car jerks backward unexpectedly. He reflexively slams on the brakes before he can get himself into an accident. The car bounces to a halt as the wheels screech slightly past where his parent’s driveway meets the street. Thankfully, there aren’t any cars on the road.

Exhaling every last bit of air and stress out of his body, Steve sinks into his seat. He’s absolutely not going to the trailer park. Eddie’s probably busy doing something else. He could be holed up in his room, crafting a new campaign, or at his other friend’s house having band practice. It’d be so embarrassing if Steve showed up to Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer and he wasn’t there.

Besides, even if Eddie is doing absolutely nothing and is just as bored out of his mind as Steve is, there’s no telling whether or not he would actually want to hang out with him. Steve’s heart begins to sink into his stomach at the thought, which really sucks. He hates how he’s got no idea where he stands with Eddie. The guy is simply an enigma.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Robin’s voice rings in his ear.

He eases off of the brake and pulls out of the driveway. Shifting into first gear, Steve wordlessly begins his journey to the trailer park.

—

Eddie takes a long drag of his victory joint, savoring the earthy sandalwood aroma and pungent taste of this fine, fine Hindu Kush. After a month of blood, sweat, and tears, he finally played through the entire Master of Puppets album on lead guitar without any mistakes. Kirk Hammett would be so proud of him. Smoke curls into the pink and orange sky above Eddie as he exhales, pluming before disappearing into the dusk. He smiles to himself and sighs, content to marinate in the sounds of early spring in Indiana—crickets chirping, trees blowing in the wind, firecrackers popping from his neighbors down the road—and finally relax after finally achieving his goal. He can’t even begin to imagine how this Saturday night could get any better.

Then, the sound of wheels rolling against the dirt cuts through the sounds of nature, making Eddie turn his skyward gaze towards the source. He raises an eyebrow at the burgundy BMW front of him. Isn’t that Harrington’s car? he thinks as he takes another drag and rises to stand. Sure enough, the driver-side window rolls down and Steve Harrington, looking like he could use a hit of Eddie’s joint, sticks his head out, leaning his arm on the window frame.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie says in a faux-British accent, bowing deeply with his joint still precariously situated between his middle and index finger, dribbling ash onto the ground.

“Get in,” Steve commands, sending a thrill down Eddie’s spine. This is a flavor of Steve Harrington Eddie’s never experienced outside of their campaign—bossy. Sure, the King Steve act comes out when they play Dungeons and Dragons. Every Thursday night, Steve becomes a valiant paladin-king-turned-vigilante-knight after being banished from his kingdom. Maybe it’s the weed making his brain slip into fruity mode, but Steve’s out-of-character scowl and the way his brow furrows in vexation like a displeased royal is, admittedly, kind of hot. Eddie wants to push King Steve’s buttons and milk this moment for all it’s worth.

“Wow!” Eddie squeals in delight as he prances over to the passenger-side door. “King Steve, come to whisk me, the poor Wench of the Trailer Park, away for an evening of adventure with his Bayerische Motoren Werke chariot.” Eddie really makes a show of how good his German pronunciation is, so much so that Steve grimaces as he unlocks the door.

“I told you not to call me that, and watch where you wave that thing, I don’t need you getting ash or burn marks on the inside of my car,” Steve warns sternly as Eddie opens the door and demurely slides into the car like a princess entering a carriage. He extends his hand over towards Steve and offers him a hit.

“For you, my Liege,” Eddie says sweetly, batting his eyelashes

Steve shakes his head. “No thanks, I still gotta drive.” How adorably responsible of him, no wonder he’s the King of all those freshmen! A picture-perfect man being a picture-perfect role model.

“Suit yourself, more for me,” Eddie says, shutting the door and bringing the joint to his lips. He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes lock on Eddie’s as he pulls from it, making the butt burn a smoking orange. If Eddie were meaner, he’d blow the smoke right in Steve’s stupid face, but instead he rolls down his window and forces the smoke out of the corner of his smirk.

“Well? Are we just gonna sit here?” Eddie asks.

“Right, sorry,” Steve says hastily and takes his foot off of the break, shifting into second gear.

—

They driving up a dirt road that begins at the very border of the northern section of Hawkins. It winds up the side of a hill and leads to an overlook big enough to accommodate three or four cars. As they roll to a stop, Eddie sticks his head out of the window, amazed by the view, while Steve rubs his tired eyes. He’d been focusing so hard on the road because he knew if he didn’t, he’d catch himself staring at Eddie. Before them is the craziest bird’s eye view of the town and the forest that extends beyond it. The setting sun hangs low and casts a hazy shadow over Hawkins, like a blanket tucking it into bed before it can drift to sleep. Eddie should’ve expected Steve to know all the best hiding spots in the area. This is probably where all the popular kids go to have their exclusive parties.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Eddie sighs in awe. He’s going to steal this view for his campaign for sure.

Steve shrugs out of his jacket, it’s far too hot in this car. “You got another… uh…” his voice trails off as he eyes the joint filter he placed in one of the cup holders.

Eddie quickly pulls out his cigarette case and lighter from the secret inside pocket of his jean jacket. “Ask and ye shall receive,” he says, playfully shaking the case back and forth.

They find themselves lying on the windshield of Steve’s car, passing the joint in silence as they watch the sky fully fade to black, allowing the stars to blink into view. Not that Eddie minds; it’s actually kind of nice to be up here. He finds himself weirdly at ease being alone with Steve. There’s no pressure to be charismatic or put on a front; he can just simply be.

On the other hand, Steve has no clue why his body reflexively made him drive Eddie all the way up here. This spot used to be a secret hideaway where he and his dad could share sandwiches and watch the sunset after they went fishing. He’s never brought anyone to this spot. Hell, Steve hasn’t come up here since his dad passed away four years ago. So why the hell did he bring Eddie here?

“Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we were friends when I went to Hawkins High?” Steve says on an exhale, breaking the silence. He can’t believe he’s asking this, but the weed is turning his mind into mush and he can’t control the words that escape.

“We don’t have to wonder,” Eddie says and reaches over to pluck the joint from Steve’s fingers. “Aren’t we friends now?” He doesn’t want to think about what could have been; he’s far too pleased with what’s transpiring now. With long lashes, pouty lips, and windswept hair beneath the shining light of the full moon that hangs heavy in the sky, Steve looks like an absolute dream as he seems to deeply ponder Eddie’s question. If Eddie’s heart had a sword, it’d surely cut through his chest and make him bleed.

“Are we… friends?” Steve asks quietly, hating the way he feels his cheeks flare. Thankfully it’s getting dark out, maybe Eddie missed it? He can only hope.

Eddie takes a long drag. There’s a part of him that wants to scoot closer, pull Steve into him, and hug away any shred of doubt he might have. But he refrains, instead exhaling and turning his gaze skyward for a moment. In all honesty, he wouldn’t mind becoming more than friends with Steve… but that’ll never happen. Again, he’s content with the present and willing to take what he can get. Even if he craves more.

“I’d like to think so�� I hope so,” Eddie says resolutely with a warm, genuine smile.

Steve wouldn’t hate that, he might actually like that. But then why is his throat dryer than a desert? Why is his heart practically thrashing in his ribs like a caged bird? Why does his body feel this magnetic pull towards Eddie?

This can’t be just the weed.

“Um…” Steve starts but can’t finish, his heart already climbed into his throat to make him choke. He averts his gaze to the dark sky above. Fuck this is awful! Maybe he should’ve settled with having a lonely Saturday. Anything’s better than stammering like an idiot in front of your just-a-friend.

Eddie quickly hops off Steve’s car and flicks the last of the joint onto the ground, dousing it with the heel of his Converse. He reflexively punches the air in frustration, not caring if Steve can see. Fuck this is awful… Of course Steve doesn't want to have anything to do with him. How could he even let himself believe for a second he would even have a chance with Steve Harrington?

“Are you okay?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow, sitting up from his reclined position.

Eddie sharply turns on the balls of his feet, sanity be damned, and lets the truth floodgates open. “No, I’m not okay. I just shared a J with Steve “The Hair” Harrington while lying on top of his expensive ass car and basking in the glow of the sunset and gazing upon a beautiful vista like Kings. I told you before, poor wenches of the trailer park don’t get to experience all this…” Eddie gestures to the expansive sky and sleepy valley below. “… majesty!”

Steve stares back in silence, very much confused with Eddie’s statement.

Eddie takes his curls and hides his face in them. Maybe if he shields himself from Steve, he’ll just disappear.

“Eddie… I’m not sure if—”

“It’s fine!” Eddie cuts him off. “I know you’re not sure if you want to be friends! It’s cool! I get it! Who would want to be friends with Eddie “The Freak” Munson, right?”

“But that’s not—”

“Please!” Eddie rushes back to Steve’s car, practically hopping on top of it and sliding right into Steve’s side, cupping his face tenderly in his ring-clad hands. “I don’t know if I can handle any more rejection,” he faux sobs.

It’s then that both Eddie and Steve realize how close they are—noses practically touching and mouths only a breath away. Maybe it’s Eddie’s deep brown eyes, or maybe it’s the constellation of birthmarks covering Steve’s cheeks, but the magnetism and heat that they felt before increases tenfold. It’s a mystery who closes the distance between them first, but their first kiss nearly sets them ablaze.

Eddie kisses like he talks, with a heat and firmness that leaves Steve breathless. He opens his mouth to gasp, but Eddie is already invading it before he can fill his lungs with the air he so desperately needs.

Steve’s tongue tastes like candy from the Family Video checkout counter, despite the fact that he smoked—the kind that gives you a sugar rush and then throws you down from a thousand feet high. Eddie knows he’s going to get addicted to tangling Steve’s limbs up with his own so it becomes hard to tell where one man ends and the other begins.

Eddie decides to trail his softer than soft kisses down the column of Steve’s neck. No bites, no nips, just a lazy tongue teasing his sensitive skin. As Steve squirms and grips Eddie’s jacket in a vise, he becomes petrified that this will be the end. Will Steve push him away or not?

Steve sighs, “M-Muns…” completely breathless as his hands find their way up the back of Eddie’s neck and weave through unruly curls.

When Eddie’s mouth finds the shell of Steve’s ear and teases him to the point of delirium, prodding his long, wet tongue into his canal, Steve can practically feel every hair on his body stand on end and every drop of blood in his brain rush south.

Steve always assumed someone like Eddie would be relentless, a mixture of teeth and hard sucks that would drain any and all energy from the body. He couldn’t be more wrong. Eddie relishes making Steve’s voice climb higher and higher with just his kisses, greedily running his tongue along hot skin and burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. It makes Eddie’s heart swell with anticipation and his dick pulse in his jeans. Hearing how his teasing makes Steve mewl nice and loud, just like a bitch in heat, is almost too much.

It’s funny to Steve how his body is reacting to being kissed by a guy. There are some glaring differences between this and being kissed by a girl. Tremors and buzzing settle in Steve’s cheeks and spread throughout his entire body. Usually this doesn’t happen until girls start sucking his—

“Steve,” Eddie murmurs, bumping his nose into the underside of Steve’s chin. “Do you want to keep doing this or…?” He lets the question hang in the open air and disappear into the chorus of crickets and other nocturnal animals. Eddie wouldn’t mind just kissing for the rest of the night, but he obviously won’t say no to more.

It takes a minute for Steve to come back down to earth. Who knew kissing boys after getting high could make him feel this good? He’s not sure if he can handle more, not yet at least.

“Kiss me,” Steve demands.

Eddie immediately, eagerly , complies and kisses Steve firmly. Before Steve can even process the dizzying leap of his heart, long, ring-clad digits slip behind his neck, pulling him in as Eddie moves against his lips. Steve gasps, and Eddie doesn't miss the momentary parting of lips. He pushes in, deepening the kiss swiftly and smoothly. Steve forgets to think or wonder; he just reacts. Instinctively responding to the passionate kiss by slipping his eyes closed in bliss, giving in to the intensity, letting it sweep him away. Time loses all meaning as Steve and Eddie burn and melt with desire and happiness under the watchful eye of the moon above them. They part, both gasping, both transfixed by the other's face, and Steve sees plainly, now, the answer to his own question.

“I guess we’re not friends���” Steve says softly.

Eddie nods and tucks a strand of hair behind Steve’s ear. “It seems to me like we’re more than that.”

[ncssian]

just another graceless night

merry christmas 🎄here's my secret snowflake gift for the lovely sayo @sayosdreams. if u didn't guess it already, surprise! i hope u like it <3

a/n: this is part of my series of crescent city aus found in my masterlist, and is sort of a continuation to family therapy. you don’t need to have read family therapy to understand this fic, but it helps!

summary: it's nesta's birthday, and her loved ones have special plans for her (that may or may not go awry). featuring nessian and nesta/lucien friendship.

The ring caught the late morning light as Cassian twisted it over and over in his hands: a gold band studded with two pearls and an oval pink diamond at the center.

It was nothing like the female he wanted to give it to, and yet it was perfect for her. Because Nesta Archeron, despite all her walls and best efforts, was inside as warm as daylight. Or at least she was to Cassian.

The familiar beep of the security system sounded as someone unlocked the apartment door, and Cassian stood up quickly from the kitchen barstool. By the time the Archeron sisters entered, the ring was shoved deep in his pocket.

He affected a huge smile, though it may have been tinged with a hint of panic. “Back already?”

“Did you miss me too much?” Nesta padded over to the open-plan kitchen and dropped a paper bag of leftovers on the island next to Cassian. “I brought you macarons.”

He murmured his thanks into a soft greeting kiss.

Feyre and Elain remained in the living room, setting gift bags onto the coffee table. “We should probably get going,” Elain smiled and clapped her hands. “If only I could see more of my own sister on her birthday, but I suppose fancy breakfast and gifts will have to do.”

Nesta scowled at her younger sisters. “I told you both you could come with me tonight. I don’t care if you’re around my friends, really.”

Feyre made a face. “No, thanks. Not that your friends scare me or anything, but I have a hot date this evening.” She flushed at the idea of her boyfriend and Elain held back an eye roll. “I don’t,” Elain stated, “but I’m taking the night to myself. Don’t worry about us, go get wrecked tonight.”

“If you insist.” Nesta moved in for a goodbye hug, something Cassian knew she still had to force herself to initiate with her family. A chorus of happy birthdays and goodbyes went around, and then the sisters were pulling apart. Cassian watched contently from the threshold between the kitchen and living room, and straightened up once Feyre and Elain were gone and Nesta was turning back to him.

She pulled slowly at one of the small ties on the neckline of her blouse, letting it come undone. “So,” she said slowly. “It’s my birthday.”

Cassian was well-aware. He’d woken up an hour early this morning to show Nesta, slowly and thoroughly, just how glad he was that she’d been born. He wasn’t so lazy that he considered orgasms birthday presents, though, so he raised his brows at Nesta starting to undress in their living room.

“You want a repeat of this morning already? If I’m being honest, I thought there would be more variety on your birthday agenda.”

Nesta’s smile dropped at the same time her shirt dropped to the ground. “Don’t delude yourself, angel. I’m getting ready to change into my sweats so we can marathon Fangs and Bangs all day.” To prove her point, her jeans fell to the ground next, and she kicked them away before spinning around to head for their bedroom.

Cassian picked her clothes up and followed after her. “Wear whatever you want, sweetheart, but put a pin in that marathon plan.”

Nesta glanced at him with a frown. “Why?”

She didn’t actually think that Cassian hadn’t planned anything for her, did she? He huffed a laugh and chucked her clothes into a hamper. “I’m not going to be seeing you all night, which means,” he flicked her nose, “I have to give you my present now.”

Getting put on patrol duties the same night of Nesta’s birthday was not ideal, but if anything, it ensured that Cassian couldn’t chicken out of his plan at the last minute. The ring sat heavy in his pocket, and he would give it to her this afternoon no matter what.

Nesta glared at him, but it was halfhearted. “I told you not to get me anything,” she said. “There’s nothing I want today except spending time with you.”

“We are spending time together,” he promised. “Just not here.”

“Then where?”

***

Their destination was beyond the borders of the city, too far for Cassian to fly them. Their motorcycle ended up rumbling to a stop some hours later at the edges of a great sunflower field.

Nesta pulled off her helmet and stared in rare wonder. Yellow and green stalks spread out in every direction, touching the horizon and going on.

She turned to Cassian, a softness in her eyes that only he ever got to see. “I’ve never seen this place before.”

“Because you haven’t wandered more than twenty miles outside of the city in years,” he ribbed.

He led her to a clear space among the flowers that was laid down with a checkered picnic blanket and spread of food. Nesta glanced at Cassian, questioning.

“This field is private property,” he explained, “but I called in a favor ahead of time.”

Over a year of dating Cassian had taught Nesta how to be more familiar with sweet gestures and moments of vulnerability, but she still lacked the words to properly respond to this.

“It's very— thank you.” She cleared her throat.

Cassian only grinned and flicked her nose, a careless gesture that told her he understood how she was feeling without her having to say it.

Their lunch date was warm and full of light, two feelings that Nesta had been a foreigner to before meeting Cassian. She’d used to think she would never be fit for soft or pretty things, but here, eating strawberries in a sundress, she felt this was as pretty as life was ever going to get.

Not long after eating, Cassian’s hand found the back of Nesta’s calf, dragging up her bare leg and pulling until she was on her back, his hulking body stretched over her. Gasping for breath between laughter, Nesta succumbed to a barrage of kisses that soon moved lower, until her giggles turned into light moans.

“I love you, you know,” he whispered from between her legs.

A bright blue sky dotted with a few wispy clouds was her view while Cassian tortured her with his mouth, and her last thought before her eyes slipped shut and she slipped into release was How perfect.

***

In a shimmery dress layered with swaying fringe, Nesta picked through the dancing bodies of Vanir and mortals alike to get to the private area off to the back of The Seven Devils club.

Nesta had made the mistake of falling asleep in Cassian’s arms after their afternoon delight, and had woken up to the sky turning ablaze with the colors of the sunset and her phone buzzing insistently.

“What are you doing,” Amren demanded when she answered. “It takes you two hours to get ready and you’re an hour away from home. Did you forget we had plans tonight?”

“Shit— wait, how do you know where I am?” Nesta said as she began grabbing for things and starting to pack, Cassian watching in alarm.

“I know where everyone is,” the mercenary said. “Get your ass back to Crescent City now.”

“Wait— we’re leaving?” Cassian had said after Nesta hung up the phone. Nesta kept packing their picnic basket, trying to hurry before it got dark.

“Thank you so much for today, angel,” she paused to say to him. Grabbing his face with both hands, she put her gratefulness into a sweet kiss and hoped it would be enough. “But we need to go. Now.”

Cassian’s hand drifted to his pocket. He looked conflicted, angry, even, but he only nodded and led Nesta back to their motorcycle.

Once they were about to part ways hours later, Cassian for his job and Nesta for her party, she’d apologized to him once more.

“It's nothing,” he assured as he smoothed down her stray baby hairs. “I just thought we'd get more time together.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek with a smile. “But we already have lots of that, don't we?”

Now, at the black velvet rope tying off the reserved area, Emerie caught sight of Nesta and greeted her with a hoot. Nesta grinned.

“Over here, birthday girl.” A drink was shoved into Nesta’s hand as Emerie led her to the circle of couches where their friends awaited.

The usual group was there: Amren, Varian, Nuan, and some Aux guys she’d gotten to know while working for her firm. But a new face made her smile drop.

“Lucien,” Nesta said stiffly. She plopped down next to him on the couch, but pointedly ignored his mocking grin.

Elain had stayed home alone tonight just so Lucien and Nesta would have the chance to spend time on their own. Nesta still wasn't sure if she appreciated the gesture or not.

They had agreed, although reluctantly, that they would try to rekindle whatever they’d had in their teenage years. Lucien hadn’t participated in one of Nesta’s birthdays as anything other than Elain’s plus one in ages, and now… Nesta snorted to herself. It was like she was eighteen again.

“What’s so funny?” Lucien asked.

“Your face.”

A crumpled straw wrapper bounced off Lucien’s head before he could reach over and pinch Nesta. “No one's tackling anyone into the cake tonight, or else it's over for the both of you,” Amren warned. Her threats were mild, but both Nesta and Lucien knew enough about what Amren did for a living to shut up and go back to ignoring each other.

Music pounded, and while her friends chatted excitedly about meeting up after so long, Nesta eyed her drink in consideration. There was no amount of alcohol in the world that would ever get her to play nice with Lucien Vanserra, but maybe a few drinks wouldn't hurt.

She took a deep swig.

***

Nesta and Lucien drunkenly stumbled out of the club, giggling while holding each other up.

“We should call a cab,” Nesta said.

“No— let's walk!” Lucien gasped. “It’s so nice out tonight.”

“Yes, yes,” Nesta nodded adamantly. “Good idea, you're so smart, Lucien.”

It was far past two in the morning, and the rest of Nesta's group had scattered like roaches over the course of the night. Many of them had left her with a big smacking kiss on her cheek and a final birthday wish; Amren had dragged Varian into a dark corner some while ago and hadn't been seen since.

Her pile of presents, most of the gifts being either wildly inappropriate or outright hilarious, had been whisked away with the help of fae magic back to her and Cassian’s apartment. She only hoped Cassian didn't return home before her and find them.

Nesta had forgotten how much fun partying with Lucien was like. They hadn't danced— or drank— together like that in years. And the huge stuffed dolphin he’d gifted her hadn't hurt. She hadn’t slept with one of those babies since she moved out of her childhood home, but he had remembered her favorite animal anyway.

Now, she leaned her head against his arm as they set off in a random direction, trying not to topple over in her high heels.

They made it only a couple of blocks before Nesta decided that fresh air was not as nice as Lucien had promised. With every breeze, a discomforting nausea grew, and the longer she walked, the more aware she was of the sharp pressure on her bladder.

“Lucien,” she finally whined, “I have to pee.”

“Hold it until we get home.”

Nesta blinked and for the first time, looked around at their surroundings. How many blocks had they walked again?

The buildings had become worn down and older, and neon lights flickered over dim alleyways. The trees that usually lined every sidewalk curb had virtually disappeared. Even while seeing double, Nesta knew something was off. “Luc,” she said slowly, “where are we?”

“Uhhh…” Brown eyes squinted up at the decaying buildings. He was drunk out of his mind. “We’re close to the Old Square, I swear.”

But Nesta recognized this area, even if she had no clue where they were exactly. “This isn’t the Old Square.” Her grip tightened on Lucien’s arm. “We’re in the Meat Market, Lucien.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Then Lucien said, “Oops.”

Oops was an understatement. They were on the other fucking side of town— the bad side of town. The shadows in the alleys had suddenly elongated, becoming darker as if they were hiding nefarious activities. The buildings seemed to stretch and curve, and it took Nesta a heartracing moment to realize that was just what alcohol did to her vision. There were no monstrous creatures, at least not this far out on the edges of the Meat Market. The crime-ridden district wasn't anything a straightminded Nesta would have ever feared, but in her current state—

“Ohh, now I’m really gonna be sick,” she muttered.

“I thought you had to pee?”

“I need to do both.” Gagging on bile, Nesta sprinted to the nearest bush to empty out the contents of her stomach. She just barely missed her dress and shoes with her aim, but she was no amateur. At least her hair had stayed in its ponytail.

“Gross,” Lucien mumbled from somewhere behind her.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Nesta closed her eyes as her insides clenched once more. When she could breathe clearly again, she rasped, “Don't look.” She started wriggling her panties down her legs. In any other state, she would have felt bad for the lone bush, but now she was just grateful that this road was seemingly deserted.

Inebriated Lucien seemed to handle urine better than vomit, because he only crossed his arms and stood guard by Nesta while she did her business, as if he could protect her in case anyone walked by (he could not, but she thought it was sweet of him to try).

When she finished, Nesta was disappointed to find that she had not sobered up in the slightest. Clarity danced right on the edges of her grasp, but she was too exhausted to reach for it. Also, her feet were killing her.

Swaying, Lucien tugged on her hand and began pulling her along. “C’mon, we’ll call a ride home and find somewhere to wait.”

“Mm, good idea.”

Lucien pulled his phone out, and Nesta paused in the middle of the road to unstrap her shoes and kick them off. Gravel bit into her bare feet, and she shivered while Lucien sloppily tapped at his phone. She hadn't noticed the cold so much while she was still having fun, but suddenly it was freezing.

After a painfully long moment of silence, Lucien finally said, “Uhh… my phone’s dead.”

Nesta hissed, but was too tired to curse him. She wrangled her own phone out of her purse, hopping back and forth on her toes. The gravel almost hurt more than her shoes, and she was pretty sure the roads were littered with glass.

Turning her phone on, she made it all the way to Cassian’s contact info when she noticed the lack of bars on the corner of her screen. She clicked on his number anyway, hoping she could reach her boyfriend through whatever obstacles technology threw at her.

Of course, the call didn't go through. An animalistic noise escaped through her gritted teeth.

Lucien jumped in fright, his gaze still hazy and out of it. “What was that?”

“The sound I make when there's no fucking signal and we're both fucking lost.”

“Wha—? Gimme that.” Lucien sloppily swiped for her phone and missed, his hand passing through the air two feet in front of Nesta. Nesta ignored him and kept tapping at her phone, starting to walk in a random direction. “There has to be a signal somewhere,” she laughed somewhat high-pitched. “You can't have organized crime without a strong mobile network, right?”

After a few minutes, however, it became clear that whatever reception the drug lords and gang members were using, Nesta couldn't get it.

Hopelessness and bone deep exhaustion setting in, she started weeping, her shoulders shaking.

“Nooo,” Lucien slurred, trying to pull her up from where she crouched on the ground, her hands over her face. “Don't cry, Nesta, ’s’your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday anymore,” Nesta sobbed. “It's the day after and we’re lost and we’re this close to getting mugged by a gang of vampires. And it's all because you have terrible ideas.” She cried harder.

“You’ve gotta get up.” Lucien tugged at her again, letting out a whiny grunt when she didn't move. “Why are you so heavy?”

Nesta wasn't moving because he was not, in fact, pulling at her very hard. Lucien was incredibly dizzy, though, and he wanted nothing but to be back home with Elain while he regained his senses.

As he was about to give up, a great boom sounded, and a dark hulking figure dropped down onto the street before them.

“AHH, A HUGE BIRD!” Lucien shrieked and stumbled backward into Nesta.

Another winged shadow dropped from the sky, landing beside the first.

“TWO HUGE BIRDS!”

Nesta blinked, finally looking up, only to shove Lucien off herself and drunkenly run forward. She hurled herself into the arms of the first figure. “Cassian!” she cried with relief.

“Are you okay?” Her boyfriend's voice was urgent. “How’d you get all the way out here?”

“We got lost,” she wept deliriously.

“Soso lost,” Lucien slurred from behind her.

Off to the side, she heard the familiar eternally-exhausted sigh of Azriel, second-in-command of the 33rd Imperial Legion. “I’ll take that one home,” his deep voice muttered. He gestured with his chin to Lucien.

He moved to hold the fae male upright, but Lucien smacked Azriel’s arms away. “Get your ’ands off me, Ihaveagirlfriend.”

Cassian bundled Nesta up in his arms and swept her off her aching feet. “Can you handle flying, or are you gonna be sick?”

“Uhnnn…” Her head was still throbbing and spinning, but her stomach had already been emptied out into those bushes. “I’m okay,” she lied. “Take me home, Cass.”

He still looked concerned, but was about to shoot into the sky when Nesta gasped, “Wait, my shoes!”

In the background, Lucien was now poking at the toned bicep of the arm keeping him upright. “Woah there, big guy,” he said. “You single or somethin’?”

“You just said you have a girlfriend.”

“Well, we're lookin’ foraboyfriend.”

Before Azriel could respond, Cassian gritted his teeth and called for him.

“Get her shoes,” Cassian gestured. Without letting go of Lucien, Azriel bent to pick up Nesta's heels and turned and walked the both of them back to where Cassian and Nesta waited.

Nesta gratefully accepted her heels and rested them on her stomach, so her hand was free to reach out and rest on Lucien’s face. It was more of a light slap, but the affection was there. “’m so glad we did this,” she said, sleep and liquor weaved through her words.

“So am I,” Lucien mumbled tiredly. He leaned in with a kiss aimed for her forehead, which ended up glancing off the side of her nose. “See you.”

“Bye-bye,” she said quietly, and then Lucien and Azriel were off in the opposite direction, and Cassian and Nesta were in the air.

***

Back in the warmth of their apartment, Cassian helped Nesta stumble toward the bedroom, pulling her away from the living area before she could collapse onto the couch and not get up again.

Herding Nesta onto the bed, Cassian got to work on shimmying her minidress down her body. “You’ve had quite the night,” he noted as he pulled off her dress and reached to unhook her pushup bra. “Good birthday?”

“Would’ve been even better with you,” Nesta said sweetly. His heart caught at the sleepy smile she gave him, and he cursed the ring weighing down his pocket for the hundredth time that day. He would have to wait for the right moment— again.

Nesta started babbling drunkenly about how fun her night had been, and then how terrible it had become, and how much more she liked Lucien now, even if he did have terrible ideas, before eventually circling back around to the topic of presents. “I can’t wait to show you what I got.” She tried winking at him, but in her state, it was just a very slow blink.

Cassian had indeed spied a red scrap of lace sticking out of a gift bag on his way through the living room, but lingerie was the last concern on his mind right now. “I’m glad you had fun with Lucien,” he said honestly as he eased Nesta into one of his T-shirts.

“Will you get me his gift?” she yawned. “It’s the soft…” she struggled for the word, “big fishy. Go get it, Cass.”

Chuckling lowly, Cassian dutifully searched the living room until he spotted a freakishly life-sized stuffed dolphin. When he returned to their bedroom with it in tow, Nesta was dead asleep.

Carefully, he tucked the plush dolphin next to her head before covering her with a throw blanket.

Yes, Cassian had ended up being the only person who hadn't given Nesta a present— not her real present, anyway. But perhaps it was for the best, he thought as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her sore feet into his lap. Nothing about the woman in front of him was worth rushing, and as long as she was happy tonight, tomorrow, and all the days after…

Well, what more could Cassian want for?

***

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool

[smilepal]

10, 21, 32, 52 for the horrible asks 🥰 <3

In-character asks for @noirapocalypto 🥰🥰

10.) When was your last physical fight?

Uh, definitely a gig that went south. There were a couple close ones, but those didn't go anywhere. I was supposed to klep some data about a Maelstorm 'initiation ritual' and thought I'd cleared the place out pretty well. Didn't realize there were a couple of guys left, and literally walked into one of 'em around a corner. Hey I didn't kill the dude, just knocked him out and left him in a closet. Probably gonna be mad as hell when he wakes up, but I attempt to stay on their good side (or as close good as it gets). What can I say? I have a favorite club, and would be mad if I got banned from it. Doesn't mean I'm gonna turn down good eddies though.

21.) What are your plans for this weekend?

Don't have any yet--'cept I know I'm not working. I need a break. What about you? Lemme guess, running employees ragged and overtime. How about you give 'em a weekend off, and I show you some of the best street food. Might not be a corpo restaurant but I think you'll like it 😉 And maybe a lazy night in, and some movies. Gotta kick your feet up for a while, relax. (and the cats miss you).

He does too, but he's not going to admit that out loud.

32.) What is your favourite color?

Hard to pick, I like most of them. Think I'm gonna go with pink or red though. I wear a lot of black because it's easy to match but find myself leaning towards blue. Been told it makes my eyes look even better~

52.) Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

Do you? See people say that 'things happen for a reason', and sure that sounds great on paper right? Oh your experiences make you into something better, or stronger, or some shit. But sometimes they just hurt. They don't make you better, they make you angry and resentful. I chose to be who I am, despite the shit that happened to me. Because I can't stand the thought of staying stuck like them forever. If I could have chosen differently though? Had some idyllic life, fuck I would. Sometimes you end up in situations that you can't chose, or they aren't for a 'reason'--you're in the wrong place, or born into the wrong family. I don't think there's any reason to that.

Thanks for asking, always have so much fun with these!! 😍😍🌸

[solalunar-eclipse]

Team Dark: A Holiday Special

Chapter One: Omega

Two | Three

Word count: about 5800 words

WARNING: this chapter contains entomophagy (eating insects)

Author's Note: I'm finally back! Sorry to make you all wait so long, but I really wanted to get this project out by December, so...here it is. I hope you all enjoy! (Also, apologies in advance for any bad formatting: Tumblr is being very uncooperative right now.)

...

It was, officially, a ‘lazy day’.

Team Dark was spending time at home, resting after the holiday frenzy of yesterday. Rouge had suddenly realized that they hadn’t decorated yet and that they all still needed to come up with present ideas for Team Sonic, so she and Shadow had spent the entire time in a sort of constant state of panic. Omega tried his best to help them, intermixed with a lot of gloating about his perfect memory and how he’d remembered to get a gift already.

He’d gotten punched halfway across the room for that one.

Now, a certain striped hedgehog was relaxing in his room, reading a book quietly. Until (of course) the peaceful silence was shattered by a loud blaring noise that sent him racing out the door and halfway down the stairs to their common area. Rouge was standing in the middle of the room, and shouted out to him, “Shadow! Come down here, I’m calling a group meeting!” Shadow winced and massaged one of his ears, his quills relaxing from their startled position as he walked over and sat down on the couch. He glowered at Rouge, who stood in front of him with the ‘team meeting airhorn’ still in hand. Despite his stare, she was still poised to blast again if Omega didn’t show up soon. Thankfully for Shadow’s hearing, Omega appeared quickly, albeit with much complaining about being dragged away from his targeting system calibrations. “Alright, Rouge, what’s all this about?” the hedgehog sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. She smiled cautiously at the two of them. “Before I say anything, I want you guys to know that this offer is optional. If it’s too much for you, you don’t have to say yes.” Omega spun one of his hands around, making a slight whirring noise. “Please continue.” Rouge sat down on one end of the aforementioned couch, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. “Okay. Let’s see. I haven’t...ever talked to you guys about my family before, have I?” “I do not recall you initiating any such conversation.” Omega answered, at the same time as Shadow replied, “No….?” “Well. Considering everything...I kind of figured it’s about time I told you all my story.” She smiled again, but it was a little bittersweet. Shadow inched closer, caution sparking in his eyes. “Where to start...I mean, I have a mom, two sisters, a stepsister, a stepbrother, and a stepmom. And a dad too, I guess?” “You guess?” Omega asked skeptically, before being shot a fierce ‘no questions‘ look by Shadow. “It’s alright, hon.” Rouge said, putting a hand on the hedgehog’s shoulder. “I guess I should really start at the beginning.” “My dad was a cat and my mom is a bat- obviously, hah. My two officially related sisters are twins, three years younger than me. Right before they were born, though...my dad left. He took all the cash with him when he did. And, well. Left Mom with a barely-paid-for apartment and without a job. “We, uh. Heard later that he ran off with some lady from his job. Mom...didn’t take it too well.” Shadow’s eyes widened and Omega smacked a fist into one hand. “Rouge. Is your father, hypothetically, good at withstanding high-powered attacks from a hypothetical extremely destructive robot?” She snickered. “No, he’s not. But please don’t actually fight him, alright?” His hands crackling with chaos energy, Shadow hissed, “Rouge...I think I like his plan.” He bared his fangs as he spoke, looking furious. Rouge smiled gratefully at the both of them. “Thanks, guys, but he’s really not even worth your time. Let me keep going, okay?” Omega sat back, irritated at the lack of pulverizing Rouge’s father going on, and Shadow, reluctantly, allowed his chaos energy to dissipate. “Yeah, so he left, and that was a whole thing. Mom worked hard for us, but it just...wasn’t enough to make ends meet. I started my career of...relieving people of their fancy objects-” here she winked- “at the age of eleven to help out. Dropped out of school after eighth grade to start full-time thievery once I turned fourteen, and, yeah. I had to leave home, otherwise Mom and the twins would’ve been in real trouble. “I got busted after two whole years by the one and only Guardian Units of Nations- not a bad streak, if I do say so myself. Then, I started working for G.U.N. to pay my dues to society, and...you all know the rest after that. I still kept sending checks back to the family, though.” Shadow and Omega were both looking at her with unreadable expressions at this point. “I’ve stopped doing that now, actually, since Mom’s been with her girlfriend for like a year now. She’s dating this super sweet cardinal who gives her basically everything my dad never did- her name’s Camellia and she has two little kids from her last marriage. She’s been so good for Mom, honestly.

“I know it’s usually supposed to be this whole thing where the stepdaughter hates the stepmom, but that’s not for me. When I got the news, I was just like ‘Oh, so that’s why I’m pan’ - yeah, really- and now I’m cool with it. Plus, I’ve got two new little sibs, so it’s all fine.

“So...yeah. That’s my family.”

Shadow sat there in deep thought for a minute. “Your family sounds nice...I’m just sorry you had to go through all of that.” he said, when he finally spoke up.

“Yeah, they’re great- and it’s okay. I mean, if it wasn’t for all that, I never would’ve found you guys!” she said, looking much brighter now. “Now that you know about them, you wanna see some pictures?”

“Certainly.” Omega said, curious to see these people that Rouge cared for so deeply.

“Okay, so...these are my twin sisters, Midori and Neela.” she said, showing a social media post of two identical coffee-colored cats posing for a selfie. Even their fur markings were exactly the same, as well as the shade of their golden eyes. Despite the fact that they were felines, something about them looked an awful lot like Rouge. The shape of their faces, perhaps?

“And here’s Camellia and Mom.” A picture came up of a beaming, moderately curvy white bat and an equally overjoyed cardinal with their arms around each other in front of a beautiful sunset.

“This is Jade, my stepsister, she’s ten-” Rouge showed an image of a young goldfinch playing soccer, kicking the ball fiercely. “-and that’s Spark, my stepbrother.” A small cardinal with a grin as broad as his mother’s was swinging on a swing at a playground, his eyes bright with the excitement of childhood.

Shadow smiled, looking as though he were a mixture of genuine happiness and a little ever-present pain. “They all look wonderful, Rouge. I’m...honored...that you felt like you could show us this.”

“That wasn’t so bad, honestly- I’ve been wanting to figure out how to do that for a while.” the bat said. “This is going to be the hard part.”

Two pairs of eyes watched her expectantly.

She exhaled. “Every year...my family has this big, three-day Wintersweek party. And when I say big, I mean seven out of my mom’s nine siblings and their spouses and kids. Like, more than twenty guests big.”

Omega interrupted her there. “If your mother has nine siblings, why did none of them bother to help her when she needed them?”

Rouge looked at the floor, a little sad. “Four of them were in debt themselves, two live in crazy places around the world and didn’t really know, and...the other three tried to help. Mom refused to take more than she could pay back. They still helped do other stuff like watch us while Mom was working, though.”

“Understood. You may continue.” Omega replied, shifting into a slightly less confrontational pose.

“So. I always go to this party, except for those two years when I was on the run. This is going to be my third year back. And…

“I really, really, reallyreally want to introduce my family to my two best friends. You know, the ones who live with me and always have my back and mean the world to me.” she said, looking straight at Shadow and Omega. The former blushed a faint green at the praise, while the latter scoffed.

“Of course you wish to do so. Our excellence is unparalleled.”

Rouge smiled hopefully at them. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you guys, but...will you come to the party this year?”

Omega processed this for a minute. “How amenable is your family towards weapons of incredible destructive power being present in their home?”

“Well, see, about that….” Rouge muttered. “...you might have to empty your weapons cartridges before we go.”

“I am unsure if this is an acceptable outcome. I will respect your wishes to an extent, but I refuse to be without weaponry at my disposal.”

The bat thought for a moment. “...you can bring the flamethrower, but only if you put a PIN lock on it.”

“...”

“...”

Rouge stared him down. “There’s going to be kids there. Kids.”

“Accepted.” Omega said finally. His tone switched to a more triumphant note as he added, “I shall come and impress all of your relatives with my power.”

Shadow had reservations, too. “Won’t it be weird, having people who aren’t really your family there?”

“Shadow…” she said gently. “...you two are as close to me as my ‘real family’, and I want you to be there.”

Omega noted that Shadow was behaving in a manner that suggested he was ‘flustered’. He folded his arms tightly, lowered his head, and his mouth was pressed tightly into a line- an attempt to hide a smile. “...but won’t I take up too much space? An extra bed is more difficult to manage than an outlet.”

Rouge sighed sharply, becoming frustrated with his hesitance. “Mom has air mattresses up to her ears specifically for this, and she lives in Camellia’s house now, which has like ten bedrooms anyway. And you’re totally not going to be ‘a bother’ or anything, so don’t even say that. Mom basically screamed when she found out I was bringing people, and I mean that in a good way. She didn’t stop asking me questions for half an hour.”

“I…” Shadow said tentatively, close to giving in.

“If they’re ever too much for you, though, just feel free to hide in one of the back rooms. There’s plenty of places where you won’t be disturbed.”

The hedgehog sighed, but he didn’t look upset. “I suppose I can try, for you.”

“Yes!” Rouge shouted, kicking her legs before getting up and bouncing up and down. “Heck yeah! This is gonna be great!”

…

Over the next week, they discussed the party numerous times, and Rouge spent a lot of time sitting in the middle of mountains of wrapping paper, packaging presents for her family. Omega and Shadow had tried to help her, but she’d insisted that they not worry about it. “It’s my family,” she had said, waving them away. “You being there is already more than enough. I’d never ask anything else of you.”

Shadow had still made cupcakes, though. Omega helped with the icing.

On the first day of the event, they set off early, making the several hours’ drive from Central City up to Rouge’s family’s house (north of Empire City) so that they’d arrive just before lunch. Thinking of Shadow, Rouge didn’t want him in particular to get caught up in the early (and supposedly quite intense) greetings that her family usually participated in. Omega resolved to turn his force output down just a little- he didn’t want to accidentally break someone’s hand instead of merely shaking it in introduction.

Of course, this all meant they had to endure a four-hour car ride together, involving lots of fights over what music was playing, several different long-distance driving games, and multiple threats to toss one another out the window while moving at 80 mph or more.

So, generally uneventful for them.

...

When they arrived at the family’s house, the E-series robot decreased his optic zoom to 85% just to take the entire place in. It was truly an enormous building, built from what appeared to be stone but on closer inspection was...actually stone. Unexpected, yet impressive.

Omega was mildly uncertain about the heating capabilities of such a house, but at least it was structurally sound. He would have to decide on its defensibility later.

“Wow.” Shadow muttered, his eyes wide. “I know you said it had ten bedrooms, but...wow.”

“I said I wasn’t messing around with you!” Rouge laughed brightly. “This place is crazy big.”

As soon as they opened the door and the bat stepped inside, the team was greeted by a loud shout of “Rouge!” from various delighted family members.

Her immediate family rushed over first, giving her lots of hugs (while her parents relieved Omega of the numerous presents she’d had him carry). Her stepbrother jumped up and down, asking, “Did you bring a present for me? Do I get one? Do I?”

Rouge smiled at him, picking the little cardinal up and giving him a hug. “Of course you do. There’s one right over there!” she said, pointing towards the giant pile of presents.

Rouge’s mother came rushing back over at that, greeting her daughter with a tight embrace. “Oh!” she exclaimed, noticing Omega and Shadow standing by the door. “Are these your friends, Rouge? Come on, introduce us!”

The younger bat grinned. “Alright, so this is my partner-in-crime and our resident edgy goth, Shadow,” she said, gesturing towards the hedgehog. He responded with a glower at Rouge for the latter remark and a polite “Nice to meet you.” to the family.

“And this is my personal palanquin (just kidding, just kidding) and awesome destroyer of enemies, Omega.”

“Greetings, Rouge’s relatives.” Omega said, turning his volume down to a level that Rouge had termed ‘inside voice’. First impressions and all that.

After making their way through many, many more greetings- which Omega recorded to play back for name storage later- the team were finally seated at one of the large couches in the living room. Rouge, being Rouge, began to chat cheerfully with a couple of her family members, describing her latest escapades with the other two team members as well as her general social life.

Shadow and Omega didn’t speak much at first, but the latter in particular soon began to interrupt her stories to point out multiple inaccuracies (mostly Rouge underplaying how utterly awesome he was). He found that he quite enjoyed talking about their various adventures, in fact.

However, the three quickly discovered that some of Rouge’s relatives had...misunderstood her stories.

One of the many aunts- whose name Omega had not yet stored- spoke up. “Rouge, I know you said you were bringing friends, but you don’t have to be shy with us, sweetie. Shadow here seems like a very thoughtful boyfriend.”

Chaos ensued. Rouge choked on her water and Omega had to pound her on the back to help her breathe again. Meanwhile, Shadow seemed to have reflexively assumed a defensive, curled-up position, yet Omega could still make out a faint glow of green from within the black and red ball.

“No!” the bat shouted, once she’d regained her breath. “No, no, we’re only friends, really!”

Her aunt seemed unconvinced, as did several other guests.

Shadow slowly uncurled, prepared to back Rouge up- though he seemed to have temporarily forgotten how to speak in his shock. His mouth moved silently, and he seemed to be having trouble stringing together a coherent sentence.

“I am not romantically involved with Rouge in any way.” he began slowly. “I assure you, she means the world to me, but in a platonic manner. I am grateful to have a friend like her, but that is all we are to each other.”

Several other relatives decided to weigh in on this.

“He seems like a very polite friend!”

“Rouge, even if you’re not together, you had better hang on to this one.”

“He certainly likes you, and that’s what’s important.”

“It’s alright if you aren’t dating, honey!” Rouge’s mom added. “Healthy platonic relationships are very important.”

The younger bat shook her head, covering her eyes with her hand. “Guys, please.” she groaned, before looking over at Shadow.

The hybrid appeared to be surreptitiously trying to get in touch with his hedgehog heritage and burrow underneath the cushions by this point. Rouge grinned at him and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him back out into the open. “Come on, don’t make him embarrassed! It’s only day one, guys!” 

Shadow cringed at that. Omega, meanwhile, was most definitely not recording any of this and storing it safely in his blackmail folder. Not at all.

…

A little later on, after everyone had eaten lunch, Omega (being the strongest on the team, despite Shadow’s protests otherwise) hauled their suitcases upstairs with little trouble. Rouge had been too busy talking to come with him, and Shadow looked as though he’d buried himself in a pile of cushions and probably wouldn’t be moved without extreme force, so he’d gone up alone.

Looking around the small room, he...found it quite tolerable, honestly. Sunlight streamed in through two medium-sized windows, and there were several empty floating shelves on the walls for their things, as well as a linen closet. There were only two beds in the room, since Omega just required a…

Ah, there it was. A charging port.

The robot was actually more pleased than he expected with the amount of mock evergreen, poinsettias, and other such ornaments in the room, though. He wasn’t much one for artistic expression himself (preferring to express his thoughts via some choice language and a few well-aimed rockets), but his friends were more...appreciative of such things and would likely enjoy the decoration.

Bored with examining the room already, he put down the suitcases and began to explore the house, trying to figure out what the floor plan looked like. He walked through all of the different rooms, enjoying himself while examining all of the possible defensive vantage points and the most optimal attack areas. 

Sure, fighting was his job, but who said he couldn’t enjoy contingency planning? Mapping out attacks on his place of residence and figuring out how to best repel invaders was one of his favorite pastimes (right up there with visiting the mall with his friends).

However, once he had planned out about five different strategies, he realized that an hour had gone by and that it was probably a good idea to go check up on said friends.

After he carefully made his way back downstairs- trying to walk in a way that didn’t shake the house was difficult- he saw Rouge still chatting with some of her cousins and looking very happy. Shadow was barely even visible, curled up in a dark corner and alternating between reading and listening to the conversation. Everyone honestly seemed to be enjoying themselves.

However, there was one jarring thing about this warm, familial scene that Omega noticed. 

The little children.

They were everywhere. Climbing their parents like a jungle gym, interrupting conversations left and right, running around underfoot, and generally causing mayhem in their wake. While Omega highly appreciated their impressive ability to cause confusion and chaos, he suspected that most of the other people here did not. Multiple guests looked ready to break something, and the robot was fully aware that Rouge’s family did not share his opinions on wanton destruction.

So, he decided to do something about this.

“SMALL CHILDREN,” he shouted, gaining the attention of the entire household. “I CHALLENGE YOU TO A SNOWBALL FIGHT.” That was an acceptable (and fun) form of violence, if he remembered correctly. Rouge certainly looked interested.

The children began to bounce around in various states of excitement, their energy somehow increasing exponentially at this prospect. “Whose team will you be on, mister?” Rouge’s stepbrother asked bravely. 

“MY OWN. NONE OF YOU CAN DEFEAT ME.” Omega declared.

“Yeah, right!” an older child shouted. “Come on, guys, let’s go!”

The entire group rushed outside and began to build a snow fort for the upcoming attack. Most of the children were clearly struggling to organize, as half seemed to comprehend the need for a well-structured creation and half were just piling up snow like maniacs.

Meanwhile, Omega began to carefully form large building blocks out of the snow, building a formidable fortress (snow could be imposing, alright??). Once he was satisfied with his semicircle construction, he noticed that he still had a few minutes to wait before the children finished theirs. He spent this time making snowballs, as well as a few other...adjustments. When the children shouted out “Ready!”, he was more than prepared.

Since they were, again, Rouge’s relatives, he was very, very generous and gave them the first chance to fire. The children launched snowball after snowball, but he ducked behind his fort and only one found its mark. Once they were all out of ammunition and scrambling for more, he felt a smug sense of satisfaction.

It was time.

He loaded his arms full of snowballs…

And proceeded to launch them out of his machine gun ports at the children.

The kids scattered in all directions, shrieking with a mixture of fear and excitement. Omega, during their attack, had thought to make even more projectiles, turning what was supposed to be organized warfare into a one-sided rampage of destruction.

By now, Rouge had appeared on the deck and was currently howling with laughter, tears streaming down her face as she watched Omega launch his onslaught of snow. Shadow was standing at the doorway along with several others, a giant wicked grin spread across his face.

The E-series robot truly wished he could make that second expression right now. He turned to Rouge, watching her cackle…

...and immediately proceeded to fire a massive amount of snow at her as well. Her laughter transformed into a gasp of mock betrayal as she scooped up some of the offending substance, packing it into a weapon of her own. “Oh. It. Is. On.”, she hissed, shaking the snow off her wings.

Taking to the skies, she began a counterattack, distracting Omega with varied sizes of snowballs and forcing him to try and fire directly upwards. The children, realizing that they had a powerful ally in Rouge, began to make new projectiles themselves and threw them at him from all sides, until Omega finally found that he was struggling to handle the attack.

As he began to turn the tide again, he realized suddenly that this was entirely due to Rouge’s absence…

...and of course that was when a shadow fell over him.

Followed by a giant pile of snow.

He flailed in the icy trap as he struggled to regain his bearings. Once he had managed to clamber halfway out of the snow, he saw Rouge hovering above him. Her wings struggled to hold her in the air as she laughed again, and he noticed sulkily that she was holding a sheet.

“Cheater.” he muttered, indignant at having been trapped in such an unflattering manner.

“Cheating?! From the guy who launched snowballs like missiles? Really?” she shouted down to him good-naturedly, shaking her head. “Talk about hypocritical, Omega.”

The E-series robot still insisted on having the last laugh, though- he had to get out somehow, so he powered on all of his fans at full blast to clear away the snow. And if everyone was standing too close to avoid the resulting icy shower, well then that was their problem.

After that, though, everyone had to go inside and dry themselves off. Organics couldn’t handle being wet and cold very well, and Omega didn’t like the idea of his circuitry being shorted out. He felt a great sense of satisfaction at having established his status as the cool one on the very first day, though.

He spent a little more time with the young ones after that, playing several rounds of a popular card game called One with them and stacking up all of the plus-fours. The robot showed no mercy even in games.

Several children, evidently impressed by his prowess (or perhaps just in awe of the fact that he was a giant robot) begged him for promises that he would play more tomorrow, to which he quickly agreed. Not long after, to everyone’s disappointment, the kids’ parents came and practically dragged them to the dinner table, having shouted their names four or five times by this point.

As he walked into the dining room, Omega surveyed the area, focusing for a moment on the glow that the many candles gave off on the table. Fire was always a nice touch.

Looking further, he noticed that the wooden table alone was a formidable piece of furniture, filling the largest room in the house and forcing some chairs to squeeze up against the wall just to make space. And that wasn’t even mentioning the feast laid out on top of it. Omega ignored that for now in favor of sitting down on one side of Rouge after he saw her at the table. Looking over to her other side, he noticed Shadow surveying the food spread out on the table with what most would consider a completely blank look.

Omega, however, had experience with analyzing Shadow’s facial expressions, and noted the slight tension in his face as well as the fact that he was fidgeting with his silverware. Both he and Rouge had a good idea as to why, too- Shadow didn’t need any of this.

The hybrid had been created with incredible physical resilience, able to withstand the most arduous of conditions. This included a significant lack of food. He actually ate only about three times a week, and even then he only consumed small meals. While it was about time for him to eat today, the fact that there would be even more food over the next couple of days seemed to have produced a conundrum for him.

If he ate now, he wouldn’t need to later, which could be quite awkward, particularly when everybody else would. Omega thought through the options and decided that there were three main paths he could take: eat now and not later, not eat now but do so later, or possibly attempt to eat a little on all three days.

Rouge seemed to have realized this as well. Leaning over to Shadow, she whispered, “Whatever you want to do is fine, hon. It’s okay if you eat a lot over these few days- everyone else here will too. If you don’t want to, though, that’s cool- just make sure you have something at some point, alright?”

The robot watched as Shadow relaxed slightly at her understanding words. The change was almost imperceptible, but he now sat back in his chair instead of forward, and he’d stopped adjusting his place setting.

Once everyone was seated and they’d given a quick toast, the family began to dig in. Shadow sat back and waited for everyone else to take some food first- a wise choice. Rouge, on the other hand, entered the rather impressive food frenzy with a voracity that her team members knew all too well- she often complained that one of her few vices (aside from gems and other sparkly objects) was food.

Omega took this time to survey what he could see of the dishes, interested in finding out for himself what a proper Wintersweek meal looked like. He saw two dishes that appeared to be some sort of poultry, as well as bowls of finger food that looked like they were filled with crickets and beetles. Various platters of cooked vegetables in every color of the rainbow covered the table, some with sliced fruit available as well. Loaves of bread in multiple shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the presentation, accented by artfully placed centerpieces.

Quite honestly, it looked impressive.

Rouge had a little bit of everything on her plate, and was currently digging into a buttery baked potato like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Omega silently put his napkin next to her plate, the (sarcastic) message clear: You need this more than I do.

Shadow, meanwhile, had taken a little fruit, one piece of meat, and two slices of bread, but seemed very hesitant to eat much more than that. He looked to be quite invested in a conversation that several of the adults were having about their own teenage experiences, often leaning in slightly when a funny story came up.

Omega mostly kept an eye on his friends, while also half listening to the children talk about the latest video game that had become popular. It seemed to contain lots of fighting combined with some impressive storytelling, and the robot made a note of the game title for his own use later.

However, as he checked on Rouge again, making sure she hadn’t choked on her food, he noticed that she had left her plate to the side in favor of talking to her family about...wait.

Omega knew this story.

This was a story where he was walking through the halls of an abandoned underground hideout for a highly sophisticated ring of criminals (an assignment for their entire team). In which said diabolical criminals had installed multiple traps designed to keep people out. And these traps. Included magnets. That specifically messed up artificial intelligence.

Omega’s memory had been severely impaired by the event, but Shadow and Rouge told him later that they had discovered him stumbling around the main hub of the base, rambling out loud about things as ridiculous as current weather patterns and- he shuddered internally- kittens. He was eternally grateful for this memory loss, though, as the two had apparently, instead of taking this seriously, dissolved into helpless laughter on the spot.

Of course, they had taken him to Tails to get fixed up. But not until after Rouge had filmed another five minutes or so of him acting absolutely loopy while their laughter, punctuated with the occasional gasp for breath, filled the background.

And she was just getting to the part where they found him now-!

The E-series robot shot out of his chair and clamped a hand over Rouge’s mouth, turning his volume low and hissing “Don’t you dare.” in her ear.

Unfortunately, this only added to everyone else’s interest, as Rouge began to cackle loudly at Omega’s evident embarrassment and her memory of the event. “Tell us! Tell us!” Camellia (Rouge’s stepmother) cried out, clapping her hands and looking for all the world like a child who had just been handed a chocolate bar. 

“Help me, Shadow!” Rouge shouted through the steel grip on her face, slurring her words with laughter. The hybrid, happy to take a break from the crowded room and equally happy to shame Omega, pried the robot off of Rouge and somehow managed to drag him out of the room as everyone now leaned in to hear her finish the story.

“So we were really worried, right? Since we hadn’t heard anything? And then we-”

Shadow shut the door on her voice and smirked at Omega, but there was a tinge of real happiness in his expression. “It’s alright, Omega. She doesn’t actually want you to feel bad, you know.”

“That’s what you say.” he scoffed. “Rouge isn’t in there telling them about the time you didn’t eat for a month on a mission and then binge-”

“Alright, alright!” Shadow groaned. “I get it, but let’s let her have fun, alright? This is her family, after all.”

“Fine.” Omega grumbled. “But I will get you back for this.”

“Sure you will.” Shadow raised an eyebrow at him.

This led to a fierce staring match/arm-wrestling battle and subsequent argument over who won, immediately followed by Omega pulling out his phone and the two watching a recently popular obstacle course show. Of course, they both agreed that they could do far better than any of the contestants.

Eventually, though, as the evening wore on, the two joined back up with Rouge to head to their room. Shadow took a hot shower while Rouge changed into her favorite pajamas- they were soft and white with little pink hearts all over (her favorite colors). 

She yawned loudly just as the hybrid walked in, already wrapped in a blanket and pulling on some plain black nightwear. He didn’t really need it, but his fifty-year stint in what was essentially a superpowered freezer had left him with a distinct dislike for the cold.

Omega had already plugged into the outlet and begun to charge, but yet…”Why don’t I get a blanket?”

“What the heck d’ you want one for?” Rouge muttered, already exhausted. 

“Well, you both have them.” he muttered sulkily, glowering at them from his corner of the room.

The bat opened up the closet in the room, looking up at the top shelf. “Shadow, c’mere. I can’t reach this thing by myself.” 

He walked over quickly, not appearing to be tired at all. Omega, as always, knew better, and saw the fatigue from the long day that he tried to hide behind his “Ultimate Lifeform” title.

Rouge jumped onto his shoulders in a practiced movement, snatching a pale purple fluffy blanket from the shelf and flinging it half-heartedly at Omega. “There’s your blanket.” she declared, before jumping straight from Shadow to her bed.

She settled into her usual sleeping position, with her feet hooked over the headboard and her face and pillow about halfway down the bed. It wasn’t a typical behavior for most, but she was a bat, after all. “‘Night, guys.” she murmured, already half asleep.

Shadow carefully lifted his blankets and slid under them, trying to keep them as neat as possible. The hedgehog shifted into a half-curled position, displaying his quills to the world and protecting his vulnerable legs and chest. “Sleep well, Rouge. Goodnight, Omega.” he said softly, still trying to stay awake.

“Good night.” the robot replied.

Omega kept an eye on his teammates, the room lit only by a patch of moonlight from the window. He listened to Rouge’s slight snoring, and watched as Shadow’s eyes slowly closed and his breathing evened out.

The robot was always cautious about shifting into his own form of ‘sleep’, but reminded himself that this was not enemy territory. This was Rouge’s family’s house, and they were all safe.

Still, he watched his friends sleep peacefully for a while longer. Then, he selected low power mode from his menu of choices and allowed his eyes to go dark.

[mskinkyafro]

House Call (Ethan x MC)

A/N:  I have other fics I need to start writing, but I couldn’t help but want to get this idea out since it wouldn’t leave my head all day yesterday after playing the chapter. Just a small continuation/reimagine of the opening scene this chapter when Ethan shows up. I added my own dialogue and descriptions to the original scenes that are from PB.

Pairing: Ethan x MC

Rating: T

Note: This fic has suggestive/sexual situations but no actual sexual intercourse of any sort in this fic.

Summary: Ethan personally comes to fetch Katrina for their next case and gets caught off guard.

Soft fur from a small creature brushes Katrina’s skin waking her from a deep slumber. Stretching her limbs, she sits up as a small yawn escapes her lips. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she pulls back her cover from her chest and calls out to the chinchilla.

“Good morning, Nikita.”

The small animal ignores her greeting and snuggles further into the warm blanket. Smiling at the display of affection she settles back into her pile of pillows. As she lets her eyelids flutter shut, impatient knocking causes them to crack open again. Nikita squeaks at the loud noise and peeks her petite head out to look towards the door.

“Tell them to go away, Nikita.”

Katrina flips onto her side and pulls a pillow over her head. As best as she tried to ignore the knocks, they persisted. Reluctantly, Katrina trudges out of her bed forgoing her robe and opens her door, ready to go off on whoever is interrupting her lazy morning.

“This better be important-- Oh!”

Standing in her doorway was none other than Dr. Ramsay. He stood with his arms folded and a dour expression that soon morphed into one of shock. Color rushed to his cheeks as his eyes roamed Katrina’s exposed body and up and down.

“Oh, uh...good morning.” he coughed out.

Ethan lets his eyes linger over her, admiring the way her lingerie hugs her curves. Katrina shakes off her surprise of seeing him and reaches for her silk bonnet and flings it off her head. She runs her hand freely through her curls, trying to fluff them out. Realizing that he’s staring, a smirk finds its way on her face. She places the hand previously in her hair onto her hip and gestures for him to enter as she opens her door wider.

“I didn’t realize I requested a wake-up call. You’re lucky you’re so cute, otherwise I’d slam the door in your face. How did you even get in?”

“I initially was just asking for you to come to the door, but Dr. Greene insisted I come in and get you myself. For I was interrupting his John Carpenter movie marathon and according to him I should be familiar with the layout.” Ethan said.

“Oh, Elijah. You have a great memory, doctor.” she chuckles.

“Pretty difficult to forget, Rookie.”

Ethan steps into her bedroom and shuts the door. He feels her body graze his own as she crosses the room. He felt the urge to touch and pull her in his arms at that moment. Instead, he fixes his attention back to her face, resuming his famous scowl.

“Erm-- enough chit-chat. We have a case. You’ve got three minutes to get dressed.”

“A case?” she questions. Katrina was going to argue but sensing his frustration she decided not to press the issue.

“I’ll be ready in two.”

“Good answer. The board’s desperate to impress this patient, so wear something nice.”

“Are you saying I don’t always look nice?” she teases, trying to lighten his mood any opportunity she got.

“That’s not what I-- What I mean is, we can’t afford not to impress this guy. Afford in a very literal sense.”

She knew he was still upset about Gwyneth. She believed wholeheartedly the original purpose of the team and the clinic and understands where his anger is coming from. However, what’s done is done. Someone had to be willing to make the tough decision to save Edenbrook. Slightly annoyed by his cold demeanor, Katrina thought quickly of a way to punish the grumpy doctor. Turning away from Ethan and with a mischievous look thrown his way over her shoulder, she slipped her thumbs into her thong and slowly took them off.

“Katrina!” he sputtered out.

She turned to face him and threw them at him. Ethan’s eyes go from the thin fabric in his hands to her half-naked body.

“What? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she says in a seductive tone.

“I...You...What are you doing?” he stutters, swallowing to moisten his suddenly dry throat.

“Doing what you said...” Katrina takes off her bra and drops it onto the floor. Leaving herself completely nude.

She steps closer to the man as his heated gaze follows her every move. With a determined look on her face, she forces him to sit on the edge of the bed. She takes her panties from his hands and tosses them to the side and maneuvers so that she straddles his lap. A smug smile grows from her lips as she feels his growing excitement, 

“...getting dressed.”

Katrina lets her fingers caress his face and moves her mouth to whisper innocently into his ear.

“Or did you change your mind?”

Ethan feels his pulse race as he slowly loses his grasp on his self-constraint. Over the last weeks, he’s managed to resist the woman in front of him as difficult as it's been. And lately he’s been irritated with the young doctor and planned to stay that way for a little longer, but right now she’s making it nearly impossible.  

“Kat...uh..no I...erm haven’t. We should focus,” he answers her nervously. Placing his hands on her waist Ethan lifts Katrina off him and places her next to him. His fingers leave an imprint on her smooth, coffee hue skin. He stands up swiftly to clear his calm himself and turns back to face her, focusing his eyes solely on her face.

“I, uh...Do you need...help finding something?

Katrina puts her finger to her plump lips, pretending to think.

“Since you offered, could you be a dear and grab my other matching set from my top drawer?”

Desperate for any task to keep him from peaking down at Katrina, Ethan reels around toward her dresser and pulls open her drawer and sifts through the items until he pulls out a powder blue lace thong and it’s matching bra. Clearing his throat, he extends his arm out holding the flimsy garments toward her.

“Erm...here.”

Getting up from the bed, Katrina saunters to Ethan and first grabs the dainty panties and slowly slides them over her ass. She then takes the bra from his hand and puts each arm through their respective straps, leaving the back unattached. She spins to face away from him and steps back so that her frame is inches away from his body.

“One last thing. Will you fasten it for me?”

Murmuring a few indistinguishable words Ethan hesitantly reaches and latches the hooks securing her bra to her chest.

“There. You don’t need any more help.”

Right as he was about to move his hands, Katrina reaches out behind her and grasps his wrists to pull his arms forward. She places her hands onto her lace-clad breasts and presses her ass into his groin, grinding softly.

“Kat…” Ethan gasps.

She bites her lip and holds the moan that threatens to bubble from her lips at the feel of Ethan’s instinctive counterattack to her movements. Still achieving to wear him down she makes his hands massage and squeeze her chest as she continues her alluring assault.

“Oh but I do, Ethan. Help me to help you.” her voice laced with desire.

Katrina’s words seem to be the last thing keeping his thin-veiled resolve in-tact. Given into his weakness, Ethan spins her into his embrace. Their breaths ghost the lips of the other as they stare at each other. It’s so quiet that only the steady beating of each other’s heart can be heard. As Ethan leans in with his eyes shut, Katrina immediately breaks from his hold and heads to her closet pulling out a professional navy blue outfit.

“What--?”

“Look at the time, we really should get going.”

“But--” Ethan stutters, confused at the sudden change.

She swiftly throws on her dress, white coat, and heels. Katrina then struts back towards Ethan and places a slow, passionate kiss on his lip. She lets her tongue find his own, savoring the taste of coffee. Ethan lets himself get lost once more, missing having her lips onto his. He presses with hunger, ignoring his lungs plea for air. Deciding she has him right where she wanted, Katrina gives a final nibble on his bottom lip then stops. 

With a grin and quick pat to his cheek she heads toward her door and calls out,

“Suffer.”

She leaves Ethan in her room with a confused look on his face and a noticeable bulge in his pants. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, kicking himself. Meanwhile, outside Katrina walks down the steps towards a red mini cooper and opens the door and slides into the backseat.

“What took so long? And where the hell is Ramsey?” June questioned.

“Sorry, I had to get dressed and Ethan has to...take care of something.” Katrina said with a sly glint in her eyes.

[shreddedparchment]

Man and Wife Pt.01

The Perv

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 4,841

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, small injuries, language, stranger sex

A/N: This fic is written for Kari’s Sebastian Stan Challenge. This might continue past this initial piece. I’m not sure yet. It works well on it’s own but I’m kinda eager to explore this. If you like it, leave me a comment! Or not. Either way is cool. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

What is the most awkward way that you can meet someone?

Somewhere on that very long list must be the way you met James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d been eager to get out of the house. This summer had been one of the hottest summers in the last hundred years. With heat indexes reaching about a hundred and ten degrees.

New York isn’t the hottest state and hadn’t seen a record-breaking heat since the 30s. That had been in the city.

Here upstate, it was even less likely. What the hell is happening?

Seeking a reprieve from the intense heat that made your skin glisten and sticky with salty sweat, you and four friends had jumped into your baby blue 1964 Volkswagen van and headed for the newly opened Ocean Dome—a three story water park sealed within a large climate-controlled bubble.

“Damn, Y/N, when are you going to fix the stupid AC?” A short girl with short wavy blonde hair asks with irritation.

She’s got her right foot resting on your dash and she kicks it hard with that foot in frustration.

“Hey!” You yell. “Leave my baby alone! She’s trying.”

You reach out and gently caress the faded and cracked faux wood dashboard.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’ll stick jelly beans up her nose when she’s sleeping.” You promise.

The blonde scoffs, laughing at your protectiveness with your unrestored vintage. She turns her gaze towards the back, the other three girls, all with varying styles and lengths of dark hair, are laughing loudly as they gossip.

“Did we need to bring all of them?” The blonde asks you.

“Case, we need to start at least trying to get to know our neighbors.”

“Why?” Casey settles into the passenger’s seat, relaxing more. “They’re sorority brats living off daddy’s money.”

“They’re not in a sorority.” You say with a laugh though a house full of fifteen girls is weird outside of that context.

“There’s like a football team of them in that house.” Casey argues with a laugh in her voice.

You glance into the rearview mirror as the girl sitting in the row furthest back stands up and pulls her shorts down pressing her ass to the back window to flash the car behind you.

You almost want to tell her to stop but you don’t want to seem like a square. They’re not paying any attention to you or Casey and don’t hear you talking about them.

“Look at them.” Casey complains. “They’re like wild animals.”

She shifts in her seat to turn to look at them better, tugging at her seatbelt.

“Hey! Are you going to wipe your butt oils off that window? Get your nasty ass off the glass.”

The girls just laugh harder as the third pulls her shorts back up and settles back down into her seat looking rightfully chastised.

“Sorry, Y/N.” The girl says.

“It’s okay…” You try to remember her name but she’s already talking to her friends and paying you no mind.

“I hope they drown.” Casey gripes.

“Case!” You laugh, the seriousness on Casey’s face drawing the amusement out of you like no one else can.

The water park is packed. Really packed.

“Maybe we should have come on a week day?” You wonder and are suddenly shoved forward as the three brunettes you’d brought hurry past you and disappear into the crowd.

“Ugh, good riddance.” Casey grumbles. “This place is new. And it’s summer. I doubt it’s going to get any less packed for a while. Besides, now’s the time to come while everything is still working.

“Yeah.” You agree and let your eyes rove over the first floor.

It’s the largest out of the three levels with a pair of large wave pools at the center. One actually creates large waves where people can surf and seems rather dangerous. You’re definitely avoiding that one. The second with the much smaller waves, is full of families with kids and young teens in neon yellow, pink, purple, and green tubes. They float casually, lazily as they enjoy the cooler temperatures of the water.

To the right are four long lines that flow up towards the third floor where two large yellow and orange slides weave down back towards the bottom floor into a smaller but deeper pool than the wave pools. There are also green and blue slides that flow onto the second floor into what you can see is another pool on the other side of a tall modern steel and plexiglass banister.

You can see people in bright bathing suits weaving around the second-floor pool towards small stalls where one can buy drinks and snacks.

Here on the first floor, the back wall is taken up by a large tropical themed restaurant, tube and board rental stations, the largest set of bathrooms in the park, and the lockers.

To the left of the two wave pools is a large expanse of space at the center of which is a large splash bad with a huge red and white beach ball, hollowed out with small kiddie slides flowing down from several sides.

Two fake palm trees spew water up into the air where it falls on toddlers and small kids as they giggle and splash. All around this kiddie section are hundreds of lounge chairs and umbrellas with small tables attached. As you scan the area, you can see that there’s hardly an empty seat.

Finally, around the outer walls of the first floor and going through the center space between the wave pools, is a winding Lazy River with bumper to bumper tubes and people milling about in the easy flowing turquoise water.

This one ride’s water is different in color from the sterile and chlorinated water of the other attractions. The large sign of its entrance advertises with large brightly colored words sticking out of the top right corner, ‘True Caribbean Waters’. Which really just means it’s a saltwater river.

You’re not unaware of how almost everyone in the Lazy River is paired off. This is where couples go to lounge and be together, guys pushing their girls on tubes. There are a few families sprinkled throughout, fathers pushing kids or mothers with babies, but the majority are cuddling couples.

“Where are all the other rides?” Casey wonders, exploring the space with her green eyes, just like you.

“Second floor?” You offer.

“What do you wanna do?” She asks.

“Let’s go find a locker.” You adjust the bag on your shoulder. Towels and extra clothes packed in.

You find the lockers by the bathrooms close to the large splash pad and countless lounge chairs. You and Casey manage to get two of them close to each other and after slipping your belongings into the small square space, you make sure to slip your waterproof wrist band on which is loaded with all of your spending money specifically set aside for today.

“So, what now? You want to-? Case?” You look around, searching over the heads you can look over and tiptoeing to get a glance around the taller people. “Casey? Casey?”

However, Casey is nowhere in sight. “Well, shit.”

“Wow chit!” A blonde toddler exclaims as he passes you with his mother.

The mother scowls at you.

“Sorry.” You offer, clenching your teeth. Oops.

Maybe Casey went to one of the wave pools?

Feeling self-conscious of the one-piece suit you’re in—a cute powder pink suit that is much sexier than you’ve ever considered wearing that leaves your back exposed, held together with thick straps that tie at a bow between your shoulder blades—you wander over to the center of the two large pools and quickly scan the bodies drifting up and down with the push of the waves.

No Casey.

A quick walk by the lines by the waterslides tell you that Casey is not a thrill seeker.

You check the bathrooms, the restaurant, the snack stands, and then wander along the splash pad, weaving through the countless chairs.

“Casey?” You call out every now and then, but she never responds.

Yes, coming here had been your idea. Yes, you are enjoying the cooler temperature and the smell of the chlorine. Yes, the water looks inviting, but you hadn’t wanted to be here alone.

You find yourself standing in front of the large arched sign of the Lazy River and sigh. Well, you’re here to cool off, right? Might as well cool off.

You toss your hair over your right shoulder and carefully descend the steps into the surprisingly cold water. You’re very aware of your nipples straining hard against your suit. You release the bar of the stairs and cross your arms across your chest but continue to walk into the water with a gasp.

The cool water takes your breath away, but you keep walking, following the flow of the river. Because it’s the weekend, the park is open late. You and Casey had carefully planned when you’d come to the park to try and avoid the crowds that would surely gather. It had already been late afternoon when you arrived. Now, after an hour of searching, you can see the sun beginning its descent through the large dome of the park, inching closer and closer to the horizon.

It paints the sky burning orange and rose petal pink, the tippy top of the sky fading into a dark plum with the first sparkles of the night’s stars peeking out.

Because it’s getting later, the Lazy River is less crowded now with families and older couples leaving, making space so that you can walk through the water slowly and without bumping into people.

A girl with bright red hair sits in a tube, her bottom disappearing through the center with her long legs gently scratching your arm as she and her boyfriend? Husband? As they pass, without paying you any mind, she leans her head back and the guy she’s with kisses her lips upside down.

You look away, aching with jealousy. You haven’t been kissed in so long!

You reach up and massage your lips as you walk along the artificial floor, the easy flow of the river pushing you gently forward so that you have to fight your progress. It makes your feet slip and slide along the floor.

After about twenty minutes, it starts to hurt. You should have grabbed a tube. By now the dome is lit by artificial light but here in the river, there are dim lights to give the area a soft glow with most of the bright lights reserved for the splash pad and the wave pools. The slides are closed which begin to drive away the more frenzied teens.

The sun is set and the last of the orange sunset fades into darkness.

“Woah, woah! Hey! WOAH!”

Two loud splashes sound around you and you begin to scream but you’re pulled underwater by the weight of a body and another splash.

You gurgle, fighting against the rush of choking water rushing into your throat. You can feel strong hands on your hips, and you’re suddenly pulled upwards out of the brine.

As your head breaks the surface, you gasp in a lungful of air and then begin to cough, wiping at your face to clear it of water.

Those strong hands, one oddly cooler than the other through your suit, are still on your hips.

You force your eyes open, straining against the blur of the water and the curtain of your wet hair as you try and see who it is that’s still holding you.

“Hey, I’m so, so sorry. My friends are assholes. Are you alright?” There’s a slight slur to his words, almost as if he’s drunk maybe? Or tipsy at the very least. His voice is deep though. Sexy if you weren’t so annoyed with having almost been murdered.

The cool hand pushes your hair back and you see a flash of silver as he does it. You’re almost able to process what it is you’re looking at but before you can there’s an outraged gasp.

“We’re what?!”

You feel the body in front of you move towards you forcefully as if he was roughly pushed and he slips. You don’t.

As he tumbles towards you, his face slides down and nestles itself directly into your chest, his angular chin pulling down on the V-cut neckline of your suit exposing more inner side-boob than you like.

Your body rages with an embarrassed fever. You can feel the heat start at your tummy and spread up into your chest, your neck, and your ears. Your heart beings to pound and this guy, whoever the hell he is, has his lips and nose pressed into the soft flesh of your breasts that he must be able to feel your heartbeat.

“Oh my God!” You gasp, reaching down to shove his shoulders away from you.

As he straightens up, you can see the blur of inebriation in his eyes. You have no time to see anything else. “Wow. Breasts are awesome.”

Your hand shoots out of its own accord and you slap him hard across the face then move around him and scurry away.

“Ow.” He says from somewhere behind you while his buddies, whoever they are laugh loudly. “Hey wait!”

You leave them behind quickly, your arms wrapped around your chest as you push yourself faster against the floor. It takes you a few minutes to find an exit and you hurry up the stairs. Dripping wet, you search for the set of stairs that lead up to the second floor and hurry up still searching the less dense crowd for Casey.

Once you reach the second level landing you pass the Bumper Boats and the Flow Rider and the pool where the less intense slides empty into. There are a few picnic tables with a people eating from the snack stalls or simply lounging around enjoying the atmosphere.

By the time you find the third-floor stairs, your right foot is hurting badly. You look down and see a small red stain on the step you just placed your foot.

“Damn it.” You keep going but avoid walking on the ball of your foot, which makes you limp as you try not to put too much pressure on it.

On the third level you find a pool bar. This must be where the adults hangout. Even now there are more people lounging here than there are on the second level. Every submerged stool by the light blue tiled bar is taken. The straw, tropical styled roof that in the daytime must provide much needed shade from the burning midday sun, doesn’t seem as popular to the other people who look up at the sky through the thick glass dome.

It’s littered with stars. The inky black is beautiful, but your foot hurts and you don’t see Casey.

You limp towards a distant corner, away from the people in the pool bar, past the faux stone archway that leads into what looks like a dimly lit cave with multicolored lights from which drifts music.

You head towards the area where the dome connects into the floor, several lounge seats angled towards the glass. They’re empty so you sit down, turning your back on the hustle and bustle of the park.

You pull your leg up, staring at the peeled skin on the ball of your foot. It’s not bad, just hurts because you’ve been ignoring it. Maybe you should have stopped by the first aid office and asked for some band-aids? And maybe bought some sandals in the gift shop?

“Hey.” You know that voice!

You turn and jump to your feet, wincing as you step on your scrape.

“Woah. Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” It’s the guy from earlier. And enough time has passed that it doesn’t seem like he’s tipsy anymore.

Now that you’re not speeding away from him, you let yourself see him clearly. He’s big. Bigger than he felt in the Lazy River. He’s at least six feet tall, or close to it. His shoulders are wide, his chest is bare sculpted perfection, and his stomach is cut in deep rivers of glistening muscle. He’s wearing dark gray swim trunks with a large red stripe running down along the sides that sit low on his hips exposing the top of the V of his pelvis.

He sees where your eyes roam and he pulls his shorts up higher and quickly undoes the string holding them up and ties them on more tightly.

Your neck burns again, this time because you’d been caught admiring his physique. It’s kind of hard not to. Of course, this admiration quickly adjusts to curiosity as you eye his left metallic arm. Now that you see it more clearly, it’s dark, not silver like you’d thought. It’s almost black with small flecks of gold throughout.

Once again, he follows your gaze and quickly pulls his arm behind his back.

“Is this what it felt like for you with my head shoved between your boobs?” The man asks, feeling exposed.

“Yes.” You admit. Serves him right.

Finally, you look up at his face and your heart nearly shatters. He’s…he’s just so-His eyes are so blue, and his brow furrowed but they sparkle with amusement and embarrassment?

His chin is covered in scruff. He’s older. How much older? His dark hair is pulled back into a low bun. A recent decision as you distinctly remember the tickle of hair between your breasts when he’d found himself there.

“Sorry.” He says and takes a step towards you.

You take a step back and wince as you step on your right.

“Hey, really, I’m-I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to apologize for what happened before. I meant it when I said that my friends are assholes. People think Steve is some goody two-shoes but he’s really, really not.

“Steve?” You look at his arm again and you feel your like you’ve missed a step as you connect the dots.

“You’re Bucky Barnes?” You ask, curious but surprised.

“You know who I am?” He asks, smiling beautifully.

You can’t find your voice, so you nod.

You know this man from history, from the news. This man is famous in a not so good way but also a very good way. He’s a hero although most people see the Winter Soldier. You see both.

He blushes scarlet and reaches to pull his hair loose. He scratches the back of his head and blows a rush of air out through a nervous pucker of his lips.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said before. I’m not-I don’t-It’s not like I’m some type of-”

“Pervert?” You offer, relaxing and quirking a brow.

He chuckles nervous and glances back towards the pool bar. No one is paying attention to the two of you.

“Yeah.” He admits. “I’m not that.”

Shame. For a moment—maybe you’ve been single too long? You kind of wish he’d throw himself at you but why would he? He’s hot and gorgeous. You’re…you.

Limping back to your seat you sit down and listen as Bucky moves to stand beside you.

“Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing. I just scraped up my foot walking in that stupid Lazy River. I should have brought swim shoes.” You lament.

Bucky’s cool metal hand suddenly lands on your shoulder and you look up at him.

“Can I see?” You chew your lip and after a second of consideration, you nod.

Bucky moves around to squat down before you, pulling a large waterproof strip of gauze of the like you’ve never seen from his pocket. He also pulls a soft square of gauze and an alcohol wipe.

Okay, how long had he been watching you because there is no way that he just goes around carrying medical supplies in his pockets.

His right hand very slowly takes hold of your ankle, his hot fingers tickling your skin as he pulls your heel up to rest on his right knee.

Your breath hitches as his skin makes contact with yours and you feel a sudden churn of heat in your belly. It sends flutters through you.

Yeah, you’ve definitely been single too long.

“This is gonna hurt.” He warns you but you still hiss at the sudden sting of the alcohol.

He looks up at you apologetically, scrunching up his eyebrows with your reaction.

“Sorry.”

You lose yourself in him as you watch him care for your scrape. Why does it feel so good to be taken care of?

“You’re staring at me.” He says with a smile.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Why are you staring at me?” He wonders, his eyes flitting up towards you then back to your foot.

“You’re really hot.” You admit, so lost in him that you can’t help but just give it to him straight.

His cheeks burn red again, and his ears flush adorably too, but he laughs as he finishes wrapping up your foot. His eyes twinkling.

“I think this is the first time someone has told me I’m hot, just like that.”

“You asked.” You argue.

“I did.” He says, carefully putting your foot down as he meets your eyes. The subtle curve of his lips and the way he still hasn’t released your ankle sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re not angry at me anymore?”

“Angry?” You ask, slightly dazed.

“You slapped me.” He explains.

Oh, shit! You had indeed slapped him.

“You said breasts were awesome after having your face shoved between mine.” He raises his eyebrows, indicating he’s still waiting for an answer. “No. I’m not angry anymore.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Come with me.”

He pulls you to your feet and slowly leads you towards the arched entrance of that fake stone cave. The water is at about four feet here too then slowly gets deeper the further he leads you through it.

The cave suddenly opens into a small lagoon.

“Wow, this is pretty.” You sigh as you look at the too blue water and the carefully crafted ambience, soft ferns and vines decorating fake stones and hanging from the ceiling. You can’t really touch the floor anymore and Bucky is moving forward through the water still holding your hand as you cross into the pink, yellow, and purple lit cove.

On the other side of the cove is a textured vinyl flooring, painted beige to look like the shore of a sandy beach. You can hear deep bass bumping and techno music drifting in from another open archway that winds into a hallway.

“What’s that way?” You wonder as your feet find the sloping curve of the floor.

“A club. The water park people wanted to get their money’s worth, so they opened a club for us adults to drink and party. I should actually be in there. That party’s being thrown by a friend of mine.”

“Really? What friend? Steve Rogers?”

“No. Tony Stark.”

Woah! Tony fucking Stark!

“Is that where we’re going?” You wonder just as Bucky pulls you completely out of the water, but he suddenly twirls you around so that you face him. His hands find your hips and he backs you up quickly until you’re pressed into a small depression in the wall where you’re both hidden from view.

With your mouth slightly open and your eyes searching, you let your heart rage in its beat, rivaling the base of the distant music.

You can feel his fingers adjusting their grip on your hips, sending tantalizing tickles down your legs.

“I’m gonna kiss you, now. Is that okay?” Bucky asks, whispering warmly as he leans towards you.

You nod.

“You gotta tell me it’s okay, baby-doll. I’m not gonna kiss you and then have you slap me again.”

“I want you to kiss me, Bucky. Kiss me.” You beg, mint and pineapple on his breath. Maybe he ate one of those snow cones earlier?

His lips twitch into a smile before he rushes down to kiss you. His lips move softly, warm and tender, massaging your lips into submission.

As his tongue passes through the small opening you left for him, you groan and wrap your left arm around him. You place it on the center of his bare back, stroking the hard muscles eagerly.

Bucky’s metal hand wraps around the back of your head, holding you in place as he explores your depths while his right hand grazes the top of your bottom as he wraps it around you and pulls you up against his chest.

He kisses you until you have to pull away to breathe. It almost hurts your lungs as the oxygen rushes in.

“Oh, God.” You gasp, your body humming as Bucky merely shifts to press wet kisses to your neck.

He suckles on the skin against the hammering beat of your pulse.

Suddenly he wraps his hand down beneath your bottom and lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his waist, moving with instinct as he pushes you harder against the wall.

“Bucky…” You plead, and he rushes back up to meet your lips. “Mmmmm.”

You never do this. Meeting some guy and kissing him? Though, it’s not like you don’t know Bucky. You know of him. You’ve seen him save people. You’ve studied his past in school. You know where he comes from and you know where he’s been.

Bucky breaks the kiss again and pulls back enough to look into your eyes. He thrusts towards you, your quivering gasp ripping through you both.

“Tell me you want me.” Bucky begs, almost as if he needs to hear it.

“Bucky…”

“Tell me, baby-doll. Tell me you want me.”

“I want you, Bucky, please. I want you inside me.” You’re almost shocked to hear yourself say it because this is definitely not something you would do.

You’ve never slept with anyone you’ve just met, ever!

His cheeks burn and his eyes explode into darkness as he lunges forward, thrusting up into you again through his shorts. Just two small strips of clothing, that’s all that’s keeping you two apart.

“Tell me you want me again.” He orders.

“Bucky please…I want you.” You whimper, bucking against his hips and the hard rod barely contained behind his trunks.

Bucky is gasping for breath as he pulls his shorts down a bit at the front, just enough to spring him forward. He hooks his finger into the small fabric of your suit and pulls it aside before he deftly thrusts into you.

It’s quick and intense. It has to be with where you are. Out here where anyone might see you.

You shut your eyes, leaning down to bite hard into the skin of his shoulder. He grunts into your ear and you can feel his hard pelvis smack against you as he shoves himself into you in frantic and needy. It’s rough and volcanic with small but powerful and very quick thrusts.

You bounce against the wall, against his chest, your chest squished against his. When his groans come with every thrust, you know that he’s close. The sound of him making such lewd noises sends you over the edge.

You moan against his shoulder as the coil in your body snaps and you’re sent into ecstasy, biting harder and harder with every wave of euphoria until you taste the warm copper flavor of blood.

With one final thrust he freezes and explodes within you in thick flooding warmth.

Your body falls into numbness and you loosen your jaw, turning your head to rest your left cheek there on his shoulder.

Bucky’s left hand comes back behind your head and he strokes your hair slowly, caressing you with fondness.

“What’s your name?” He asks, and you’re shocked to realize you just slept with a man without first telling him your name.

You have all the power here. You could walk away, and he’d never know who you were.

But after today…after what just happened? How could you not see him again?

“Y/N…” You whisper, stroking the center of his back slowly as he continues to support your weight with your legs wrapped around him, still fully buried within you. “Y/N y/l/n.”

He nods.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you marry me?” He mumbles, kissing your neck softly.

You chuckle and let your breathing slow, but you know he’s not serious.

“I mean it.” He assures you. “Will you marry me?”

“What?” You pull back slowly, searching his eyes for the joke but all you see is warm sincerity.

“I want you. And I know it’s weird because we just barely met but I wanna keep you.”

“Bucky you don’t even know me.” You shake your head, confused.

“Marry me, baby-doll.”

“Bucky…”

“Marry me?”

“Buck-”

“Be my wife.” He whispers, leaning in to rub his lips against your own softly, a feather tease of skin on skin.

God, you can still taste that pineapple!

“Yes.” You relent and he smiles then kisses you hard.

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[dani-aka-that-one-namechanger]

@totallycorrectghostpokemonquotes here ya go XD

Froslass: Gengar, you would not believe what I saw this morning when I was folding laundry! It was the most amazing thing!

Gengar: Was it the ghost of Rotom rising from the grave to take the region back to its proud Kantonian way?

Froslass: No. No, it wasn’t.

Gengar: Shame…

Froslass: It was an alien!

Gengar: WHAT?!

Froslass: I know! I just got done starching and I saw it! It was so bright and so shiny and I almost dropped the iron on the cat because it was so amazing!

Gengar: And you’re sure it wasn’t Spiritomb and the Russians?

Froslass: No sweetie, I’m sure it wasn’t Spiritomb and the Russians.

Gengar: Well, damn again… now how should I know that what you saw was actually some sort of extra-terrestrial and not some sort of weather balloon or Soviet Russia's Invasion?

Froslass: Because I’m your wife, Gengar, not some power hungry communist or a big weather balloon flying around.

Gengar: But you’re a woman.

Froslass, laughing: Of course I’m a woman sweetie!

Gengar: …Right. But there’s no way of confirming what you saw was an alien coming to Earth or not.

Froslass: Well I saw it, and… and Polteageist across the street saw it too! We were both doing our laundry and we both saw it at the same time!

Gengar: Hmmm… another woman. I’ll call up her husband Shedinja, we fought together back in the war and he should be able to confirm what this whole ordeal is about.

Froslass: Perfect! I’ll go and make deviled eggs and Jell-O pudding and talk politics! Maybe even this time I can vote for myself.

Gengar: Great idea! I love Jell-O pudding! Let me call Shedinja up right now. *Talking to Shedinja* Hello Shedinja, me and my woman here would like for you and your woman to come over and talk about things. Alright. Sounds great. See you at 4. Arceus Bless Kanto. Death to Spiritomb. Okay. Buh-Bye. *to Froslass* They’ll be here at 4. I’m going to read the newspaper.

Froslass: Do you think she’ll make something? Last year when we were celebrating the 4th, do you remember when she brought the tuna fish casserole? I never thought to use onions! Onions of all ingredients! And then she brought the quilted napkins and I told her, I said “Polteageist, I just can’t belie-“

Gengar: Null matters woman, her tuna casserole tasted like pesto and regret. Don’t bother me anyway, as I am reading the newspaper. Oh, seems here, a bird Pokémon named Decidueye wants to make Pokémon equal.

Froslass: He’ll probably get shot somewhere in Cerulean City.

Gengar: You’re probably right. Says here Sears and Roebuck are going to make more catalog houses in the area. They’ll never go bankrupt!

Froslass: No chance!

Gengar, laughing: Ah… I trained you right.

*Shedinja rushes in*

Shedinja: Gengar!

Gengar: By Arceus, Shedinja! I haven’t seen you since the war!

Shedinja: Still smoke without a filter?

Gengar: Still a lazy drunk that cries when your mother writes?

Shedinja: You dog! So good to see you!

*Polteageist enters*

Polteageist: Did somebody ask for tuna casserole!

Gengar and Shedinja: NOPE!

Froslass: I did! Oh and it smells the same as it did last year!

Gengar: You two go off and do something feminine while we talk about things we believe are too logical for you to understand.

Froslass and Polteageist: Okay!

*Froslass and Polteageist leave*

Gengar: So Shedinja, when I go home today, Froslass said the wildest thing to me!

Shedinja: Did Rotom rise from the grave to bring Kanto back to its true form?

Gengar: Sadly no.

Shedinja: Damn.

Gengar: But what she did say was particularly peculiar and that’s why I wanted to have you over for dinner. She said she that she along with your wife, saw an alien in the sky this morning!

Shedinja: An alien, you say… not a communist invasion lead by Spiritomb?

Gengar: No, I already got rid of that idea.

Shedinja: Weather balloon?

Gengar: That too. What I’m worried about is that if she is right, we’re going to have to tell the paper, and then there’s going to be people everywhere and the military is going to come…

Shedinja: Not to mention that we’re going to have to admit they’re right.

Gengar: That too! I just haven’t been able to make up my mind on whether she saw an alien or not!

Shedinja: Here’s an idea; let’s eat dinner and test them to see if they actually saw aliens. If what they say makes sense, we’ll call the paper and tell them that what they saw and… *rambling*

*Froslass and Polteageist enter*

Froslass: We’re back, you two!

Gengar: *to Shedinja* But they’re women!

Froslass and Polteageist: We are!

Froslass: Gengar, I don’t know why you keep saying that. I’m obviously a woman, you know… how we’re trying to have a baby…

Shedinja: You found a good one.

Gengar: I really did.

Shedinja: Mine just wants to talk about artifacts all the time.

Polteageist: You know Gengar, I’ve been meaning to ask you about where you got your little Tapu fellow at, he’s just so cute!

Gengar: You weren’t kidding.

Shedinja: Not one bit.

Gengar: I hope she has good child-bearing hips. Do you folks want to start dinner?

Everyone: Of course!

Gengar: Great. Froslass, take it away!

Froslass: Okay. What do you want me to take?

Gengar: You- you- you- Just bring the food woman.

Froslass: Oh… okay!

Shedinja: Like a dog, Docile.

Gengar: Exactly. Polteageist, would you mind saying grace? I feel like I haven’t heard a word from you this evening!

Polteageist: That’s how you boys like it! I’ll start if you insist. Dear figure of omnipotence, may you rest in peace somewhere peaceful, like Poni Wilds or somewhere close to that.

Froslass: I hear Alola is quite nice this time of year.

Polteageist: And they have the world’s biggest artifact museum in their region!

Shedinja: Hush woman! Proceed.

Polteageist: Anyway Mr. Arceus, I hope you can do all the things we want in the world or something like that. Also, I really hope my casserole doesn’t flop, last 4th of July, I put way too much pesto in it.

Gengar: I told you, Froslass. I told you.

Polteageist: Oh, and don’t forget to get rid of my dad’s cancer. Amen!

*silence*

Gengar: That was beautiful Polteageist. Now let’s dig into this tuna casserole and-- OH MY ARCEUS!

Froslass, Shedinja, and Polteageist: What?

Gengar: AN ALIEN!

*a ridiculously colored Blacephalon enters*

Blacephalon: Hey guys, did I make it into Alola?

*everyone starts screaming*

Gengar: By Arceus!

Froslass: It’s an alien!

Shedinja: From another planet!

Polteageist: That somehow speaks English!

*silence… then contunied screaming*

Gengar, holding a chair: Fend off, satanic being or this chair will be perpetually stuck in your face!

Blacephalon: What do you mean?

Gengar: I mean, I will beat the devil outta you, you devilish foe!

Blacephalon: Why are you talking like that?

Gengar: I… Don’t know.

Blacephalon: Well anyway, do any of you guys know where Alola is?

Polteageist: Why do you want to go to Alola?

Blacephalon: Well, you see, I was initially planning on Galar but then my other alien friend, Lunala, was all like “Nah, man, Alola.” and I was all like “Alola?” and she was all like “Alola!” so yeah…she died on entry but I still wanted to play the slots, ya know?

Froslass: We’re in Kanto.

Blacephalon: Now how far is that from Alola?

Froslass: Very far… from Alola.

Blacephalon: Oh…

Shedinja: Listen here, you white freak! What’s going to happen to you is that I am going to go next door, grab my M1, come right back here, and shoot you in the face!

Blacephalon: No, you’re not.

*Blacephalon kills Shedinja*

Gengar: By Arceus! Why have you done this? Such horror is none I’ve ever seen before!

Blacephalon: Look, buddy, you really gotta stop talking like that. It’s weird.

Gengar: You’re weird.

Blacephalon: Uh, yeah. I’m an alien. So, I killed him because he was going to kill me first. And I’ll kill you if you keep talking like that. *starts mocking Gengar*

*Froslass and Polteageist laugh at Gengar*

Gengar: That’s not fair.

Blacephalon: Well, life isn’t fair, kiddo. Trust me, I’ve been alive for 3 million years.

Gengar: That explains the wrinkles-

Blacephalon: Thin fucking ice Gengar! You are walking on thin fucking ice!

Gengar: Wait, how do you know my name?

Blacephalon: The person writing this script made an error. Listen, what I’m going to do is that I’m going to take a straight shot from here to Alola, making a stop for some Kantonian BBQ, make a fortune on slots, and spend the rest of my life as an alcoholic in Hau'oli City. This *kicks Shedinja* never happened.

Froslass: Wait a second… make a fortune?

Blacephalon: Yeah baby. You, me, and all of the money in the world!

Polteageist: Can I come along? I hear Alola has the biggest artifact collection in the world!

Blacephalon: Sure thing suga, go outside and warm up our ride.

Froslass: You fly an alien spaceship?

Blacephalon: Actually, I rented a Buick. It’s got leather seats though!

Polteageist: Leather?! *knocks over Gengar to EXIT*

Gengar: You- you can’t just do that to me!

Froslass: I’m sorry Gengar, it’s just that he’s so charming and he’s going to make good money, and his Buick has leather seats!

Blacephalon: So does my regular spaceship.

Froslass: And his spaceship too!

Gengar: That is kinda cool. Just one thing before you take my wife and go for BBQ and slot machines…what planet are you from?

Blacephalon: *puts on MLG glasses* Planet Cool. Come on woman, let’s go eat some brisket and make interstellar love, ratio 2 to 1.

Froslass: You had me at brisket!

Blacephalon: Oh, and don’t forget that tuna casserole, Gengar. I smell pesto!

*Blacephalon and Froslass leave arm-in-arm*

[popatochisssp]

Obviously no pressure, but if you wanted to share your ideas on house pets, there would be great interest from at least one person. But headcanons are closed and I totally respect that (this very ask aside sorry). No pressure to do anything!!! just wanted to let you know that it seems like fun info.

Sans (Undertale): Strongly inspired by a fantastic fanfiction I can’t recommend enough, he has a cat affectionately named Catsup (Norwegian Forest Cat). Of course he does. Pretty typical story here, he more or less went to a shelter, locked onto the biggest, fattest cat there, and filled out the paperwork to damn her to a life of having a pun for a name. He...may have only gone to the shelter because he was hardcore struggling with depression and his brother read somewhere that pets can help a little, but that's...that’s neither here nor there. Catsup turned out to be a perfect fit for Sans in spite of his initial attitude of, 'I'm only doing this to make Papyrus happy'-- she's probably just about as chill and lazy as the skeleton himself, content to flop over just about anywhere, anytime and hang out. Her laidback nature was a blessing for Sans, a first-time cat-owner who didn't really know what he was doing or what she needed right away. A more high-maintenance cat probably wouldn't have been as forgiving and there'd have been a lot more stress on everybody before he got it figured out. Now, he considers Catsup his best little pal and doesn't even need to be reminded to change out her bowls and her litter. He's surprisingly responsible, when he actually really cares about something.

Catsup’s Quirks: Likes it when you gently slap her belly, always gravitates towards the room with the most people in it, often appears in unusual places that it seems like she shouldn't have been able to get to

Papyrus (Undertale): He...begrudgingly missed working with the Canine Unit once the Royal Guard was officially disbanded... It took him awhile to be able to openly admit he was interested in getting a dog, and when he did, he had standards-- it had to be a smart dog, one that could learn tricks and follow rules, unlike a certain annoying creature that’s plagued his life and home and special attacks in the past!!! So he did a lot of breed research, found a local, ethical breeder for the kind he was looking for, and went to pick out a pup. Spike (Border Collie), so named for his incredible coolness, is a perfect fit for his energetic skeleton friend and loves to run, exercise, and learn new tricks all the time!

Spike’s Quirks: Learned to wipe his feet before coming inside just by watching Papyrus do it, hams up his tricks and sometimes does them without prompting, never leaves the park without an impractically large stick to bring home

Sky (Underswap Sans): You will literally never get him to admit the real reason he got a dog companion because he knows in his heart of hearts that it’s such a silly reason... He saw a video online of a dog delicately eating a watermelon and while most people would’ve had a kneejerk reaction of, “I NEED TEN,” but not gotten any, he had the same reaction and just...talked himself down to one. And so came Poff (Samoyed), a big ol’ floofer who’s a lot like her master when it comes to levels of energy and affection. She’s happy to follow him around on patrols, training sessions, and even through obstacle course...so of course, she tends to get very dirty very quickly. Luckily, Sky’s diligence in grooming her keeps her coat as white and fluffy as her namesake!

Poff’s Quirks:  Loves baths, tap dances at the mention of treats, doesn't chew her toys and just hoards them instead

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He wasn’t really in the market for a dog, himself. He was just along for the ride when his bro was picking up Poff, when he happened to hear the most hilarious sing-screaming sound he’d ever heard in his life. He followed it all the way to the little fellow who would soon be known as Smoochie (French Bulldog), and he sure seemed upset about...something? He never really figured out why, he was laughing too hard from hearing a sound like that come out of something so small and weird-looking. He didn't try to adopt Smoochie that day, much as he loved his sound, but he found himself going back to the shelter a couple times just to check on and play with him. After two or three months with no one else adopting the little prima-donna, he figured he might as well commit and take him home. He's a fun little dude and Paps hasn't regretted it for a second, but he's forever in denial about just how much of a Dog Dad he's become since. It's totally normal to carry your dog around in the hood of your sweatshirt, isn't it???

Smoochie’s Quirks: Screams a lot, will eat food out of peoples’ hands if they’re not paying attention, jumps higher than it seems like he should be able to

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Like most things in his life, he didn’t put a whole lot of planning or forethought into getting a dog. He was out one night, decently drunk, and a friend of a friend of a friend of a coworker was talking about this dumb dog he had that was supposed to be a guard dog but couldn't do it worth a damn because he was too friendly. The guy was yammering about how to get rid of it and something about that struck a chord with Jasper. It was pretty soon after monsters surfaced and maybe that's why it felt...important to him? He was probably just drunk and emotional and soft that he even stepped in or said anything, but it is what it is. He’s a skilled enough conman that it didn't take him long to talk the guy around in circles until he was willing to pay Jasper for the privilege of taking this animal off his hands and in short order, he was almost bowled over by the big dog that planted its paws on his shoulders at their first meeting. Jasper immediately renamed him from something cliché and 'intimidating' to Tubbs (Rottweiler) for how heavy the goofy bastard was and then brought him right home. His brother wasn't particularly pleased and swore he would not be caring for this beast, but he never had to; Jasper kinda missed having something trusting and affectionate to take care of, and Tubbs has been daddy's little fatty ever since.

Tubbs’ Quirks: Shreds even the heaviest duty toys, lays on people as if he were a lap dog, drools rivers if somebody's eating food around him

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Who am I to defy literal years of fanon...? His first meeting with Doomfanger (Persian) was about as clichéd as it gets-- a scrawny, dingy, scraggly and matted cat scurrying out of an alley in the rain. She went right up to him and, well... it was love at first mew. He scooped her right up, bestowed a fittingly intimidating name upon her, and took her home with him, in spite of the fact that she looked more like a mutant rat than a cat at the time. After shaving the mats off, bathing the dirt away, and getting her some regular food, though, Doomy actually ends up being an exceedingly beautiful feline! He credits his attentive care and grooming for her pristine, silvery fluff and will brag about it at a moment's notice, but he's just ever so slightly in denial about her sweet and gentle nature. Doomfanger is a vicious killing machine, a true apex predator that nothing stands a chance against! That's...that’s obviously why he carries her around so much... And why he plucks her away from any other animal that comes near her like some sort of mother hen-- he's minimizing the bloodshed! If he let her loose, there would be no survivors!

Doomfanger’s Quirks: Meows in peeps, avid shadow-chaser, extremely receptive to handling

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Hey, anyone remember FGTC? This one cameo’d in that fic, she may seem familiar~ So...he wanted a pet. At first, he thought a cat would be good, fierce independent hunters that they’re reputed to be...but after spending time with a lot of cats and not really clicking with any, he was forced to concede that he was just more of a dog person. In hindsight, of course that’s what he was looking for: a loyal companion to (literally, ha!) dog his steps and follow his orders. Before he can actually, intentionally start looking for one, though, the universe works its magic and he finds one digging around in the garbage out behind the house. The emergency vet he brings the scarred and skeletal stray to tells him that, judging by her injuries, she was probably bait in some dog-fighting ring somewhere and got thrown away when she wasn’t useful anymore. Well. Fuck that, Princess (Pitbull) deserves better than that, and she’ll have it! He takes on the duty of nursing her back to health and earning her trust and it isn’t long before she shows her true colors as the loviest sweetheart of a dog that ever was. She’s utterly useless as an attack/guard dog, but her barks are loud and intimidating, and she obeys commands at the drop of a hat, so Mal doesn’t hold that against her. She goes with him just about anywhere she’s allowed and he shows her off with the same enthusiasm you’d expect for a pedigreed Best in Show dog.

Princess’ Quirks: Wags with her entire butt, will kiss the moment someone’s face is in range, barks at doorbells both real and on TV

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): He didn’t mean to get a cat, not really... He was just following along with his brother when Mal was kicking around the idea of getting one, and Mal may not have clicked with anybody there, but he sure did. Actually... Kitkat (Manx) may have picked him and he’s just along for the ride. Kitkat was kinda young at the time, a little smaller than all the rest and also...no tail??? But what a personality, loud and playful and super sweet and...when it was time to leave the shelter, he just...he couldn’t bring himself to do it without her, he was in love! It’s mutual, at least-- she latched right onto him pretty much instantly and is pretty much never not with him whenever he’s at home, following him around from room-to-room.

Kitkat’s Quirks: Bone-rattlingly loud purrs, loves to play fetch, prone to 3AM zest for life and zooming all around the house accordingly

Slate (Horrortale Sans): I actually wrote about this one! But the gist of it is...he likes cats. Eventually got confident enough to go get one and zeroed right in on the weirdest-looking, least adoptable cat in the shelter he volunteers at. Slinky (Cornish Rex) was deaf, kinda ugly, and a whole lotta weird, but hell, she’ll fit right in at home, yeah? And so she does! She wrecks a lotta shit and is loud as hell, but stuff is only stuff and Slate’s never had an issue with noise. Actually...she really helps him out with his sleep and focus issues, it’s hard to drop off or dissociate when you have a cat in your lap, yelling at you at batting your face because it’s Play Time or Dinner Time, wake the fuck up!!! She’s a bastardous gremlin, but he loves her to bits.

Slinky’s Quirks: Clumsy and bad at judging distances, loves ankle-looping, insists on sniffing all people-food but never actually tries to eat it

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Following the trauma of the underground and the ensuing massive outpouring of empathy from humanity at large, monsters were made aware of many therapeutic resources that they could take advantage of, one of which was therapy animals. Papy naturally thought this was a wonderful idea...for other monsters, who were of course far more psychologically-damaged and not quite so good at enduring as himself. But...his brother does volunteer at an animal shelter, and he goes to visit him on occasion so he's made friends with a lot of animal people. This is how he hears about a therapy dog in need of a new forever-home due to complicated circumstances with her former owner, and well... it would be rude not to offer the Lady (Borzoi) a place to stay! He’s surprised by her appearance at first, having expected something more like a golden retriever or some kind of shepherd??? But he's very quickly charmed by her and actually feels more than a little bit of kinship with her no stranger to being long and oddly proportioned, himself-- and they're both doing their best to make it look graceful instead of weird. Since Lady proves to be a sweet and gentle-mannered dog, Papy just sort of...never bothers trying to find other accommodations for her. She’s welcomed wholeheartedly into their home, which she repays with plenty of unconditional love and effortless emotional support!

Lady’s Quirks: Spins in circles when excited, very polite when begging for table scraps, never barks but howls often

[fanfictrashdump]

Queening a Pawn, 16

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Pairings: Loki x OC

=

Delilah looked up from the mountain of paperwork her new assistant had just piled onto her desk when she heard someone come in. Dressed impeccably in white, Pepper Potts strode in with a friendly smile on her face and a manila folder in her hand.

The mess in her office made her suddenly self-conscious, and she tried to straighten out the papers into what might vaguely resemble neat piles. "Pepper! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything too important," she remarked, eyeing the mess of files on the desk with a weary smile. "I just wanted to run something by you."

"Oh, not at all," she fibbed, but rectified when Pepper made a face. "You're giving me a good excuse not to obsess over the shambles that is the Receiving department." Lilah gestured a chair across from her. "Take a seat. What's on your mind?"

The redhead sat down with a plop, crossing her legs as she leaned back. "Well, I was talking to Tony last night and he gave me a suggestion that I am tempted to pursue."

Delilah rolled her eyes. This was not the first time the computer generated Tony had demanded one of his ideas be brought to fruition. "What did Ghost In the Machine have to say, now? As long as it's not the Starburst pool, again, I'm open to suggestions."

Pepper laughed. "No, though he still claims it will work. It was about Loki."

Not sure whether or not she should be weary, Lilah opted for keeping her expression neutral and clasping her hands on the desk in a pose she had taken from Loki. "Oh, what about Loki?"

"Well, he was going on and on about how good Loki was with dealing with Morgan– you know that she's super headstrong, like her Dad– and how all the other kids in the academy love him."

"Right," Lilah agreed, suspicious.

"Tony suggested I make him a permanent fixture in the Academy."

Delilah blinked in confusion, tilting her head curiously at Pepper. "Loki? You want him to, what? Teach seven years-old's how to fight?"

Pepper waved away the comment with a chuckle. "Of course not. I thought he could be part of the after-school program. He can watch kids, make sure they do their homework, keep them busy until pick up."

"You want to leave agents' children with the man who tried to take over the world? And you think the agents will go for this?" Lilah shifted uncomfortably. Despite the generally positive opinion of Loki in the current climate, it was insane to think people would purposefully hand their kids to the demigod.  

"Tony thinks they will."

Delilah bit her bottom lip in thought. "OK, let me preface this with saying that I love Tony and I love working for this company, please don't fire me–"

"OK?"

"–but Tony is a fancy computer program," she finished cautiously, but Pepper didn't look offended.

"But is he wrong?" Pepper leaned forward, leveling her gaze with Delilah's. "Hon, last week I did rounds and found him finger painting with six other kids," she offered as an example. "He snuck into an art class to finger paint."

Delilah's smile widened on its own accord, feeling a small little bubble of affection burst within her. Loki Odinson, child of Asgard, son of Laufey of Jotunheim, softest villain in the realm and expert finger painter. "So that's where all those portraits came from," she remarked, thinking back on the half dozen brightly colored papers hanging on Loki's walls, attached there by knives. "He does genuinely love those kids, but he hates being told what to do. I can try to talk him around–"

"He already said yes."

Lilah was flabbergasted. "What?"

"I talked to him this morning over coffee," Pepper explained. "He accepted before I had even gotten the full offer out."

Delilah frowned, more confused than she had been at the mere suggestion. "Then why did you need to consult me?"

"He has demands."

She groaned and Pepper laughed. "Of course he does. Lay it on me. Million dollar salary? Private jet? More knives, for some fucking reason?"

"No. He's working minimum wage," Pepper said, matter-of-factly.

"Minimum? And he agreed to this?"

"He was the one who demanded it. I was ready to offer him a decent wage, because kids are difficult, but he said whatever the minimum was, he'd take it. Instead, he wants us to invest the extra money."

"In…?"

"A scholarship." Pepper waited for the shock to fade from Delilah's face. "For students who were in some way affected by the attack in New York."

The answer made her insides twist, not unpleasantly just curious. "Did he give any reason?"

"Just that he knew how much of a difference a scholarship could make and then made puppy eyes." Pepper smiled knowingly. "Could I just tell you how exceedingly bad he has it for you?"

"Only if you tell him, too. He seems to not have gotten the memo," Delilah retorted, drily. "You need me to write up his paperwork, I assume."

"Yes, and I have the scholarship projections here for you, too," Pepper offered, sliding the manila folder across the desk. "I might have given it an extra little boost, but don't tell him."

Delilah flipped through the documents, glancing at the details of the scholarship and how selection would work. "This is excellently thought out."

"He was pretty adamant about the criteria and I agree with his selection process. He was astoundingly thoughtful of the demographic he thought was most deserving." Pepper sighed. "I didn't think Loki had it in him, but lo and behold."

"Yeah, he's… something else." Despite the lukewarm expression, there was a definite flutter in her stomach. "I'll set all these up and forward you signed copies by tomorrow."

Delilah sighed, waving goodbye to Pepper before contemplating her afternoon. After a moment or two, she told her assistant that she'd be back later and disappeared into the puzzle-like hallways of the compound. Lilah turned the corner towards the living quarters when she was pulled into a nearby closet with a hand over her mouth. Had it been the first time this happened to her, she would have been worried, but as it were, her initial response was to grasp the lapels of the charcoal button-up shirt and tug the person until her lips were firmly upon theirs.

Loki made a pleased noise in the back of his throat, slipping his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans to tug her closer. "Hello, darling," he whispered against the hollow of her throat before he placed an open mouthed kiss there.

"I love you, Lo," she said both abruptly and breathlessly, but the words tugged the corner of his mouth upwards, instantly.

Loki chuckled, skimming his mouth over her neck before stopping to press a kiss to her jaw. "I knew it was a good idea to steal you away," he quipped, easily, completely glossing over the fact that this was the first time she had ever said the words. He bent to kiss her proper, both his hands cupping her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "I know you do, you fool. Just as I love you." He rested their foreheads together with a sigh. "I brought food and set up the chess board at mine. Would you like to join me for lunch?"

"Are you asking me out on a date? How very forward of you."

"Forward would be saying that I plan on putting you up on my table for dessert. Though, it is implied." He grinned impishly and tugged on her beltloops. "I hope these are quick to take off." He kissed the wide-eyed expression on her face away. "Too strong?"

"No, I just… I didn’t think I'd enjoy you saying that." Lilah said the words as she shuddered the sensation off.

"Mmm, shall we skip straight to dessert, then?" Loki leveled his gaze at her, brushing locks of hair out of her eyes. "Or do you want to discuss Pepper's offer for the next four hours like I know you want to?"

"No! I mean… I think it's great that you took the job." She replied with a little hesitation. Delilah could already see the protest brewing in his eyes the second she opened her mouth.

"But?" Loki asked, knowingly. "Out with it."

"I'm just overprotective and don't want to see you get hurt for doing a good deed."

"They're very small, I can probably drop-kick them into orbit–" He joked, mimicking punting a small child in the tight space.

"You know what I mean. Don't play with me."

He hummed deep in the back of his throat and twined his arms tightly around her. His lips found her crown in a tender display before he buried his face into her hair. "You are a truly extraordinary specimen." Delilah huffed and he made a show of kissing away her pout and nipping her bottom lip. "I mean it in the most respectful and complimentary of ways." When she did not respond, he squeezed her further. "I am deeply honored that you would think a wretch like me important enough to warrant your protection. I love you so dearly for it."

Delilah sighed, hugging him around his middle so tightly it made his ribs ache. "I don't like people messing with my stuff!"

"Your stuff? Am I all of a sudden your stuff?" Loki husked, rubbing lazy circles on her back.

"When have you not been my stuff?"

He held her arm's length away, wolfish grin twisting his lips. "By the Norns, where have you been all my life? Deliciously possessive, clever, and gorgeous? I've died and gone to Valhalla."

"And yet you only kiss me in dark janitor's closets."

"This and accepting impromptu job offers are the only way to catch you unawares." He nuzzled into her hair. "Plus, we've always done particularly well in the dark."

She hummed her agreement, her head resting against his chest where she tucked herself under his chin. "Pepper mentioned something else," Lilah started, tentatively. "About letting your bracelets off on a trial basis."

"And you didn't mention anything about already fitting a felon with counterfeit manacles, I assume?"

Delilah bit her lip, looking guiltily down at her shoes. "I didn't. I might need to switch them right before Pepper decides to grant you a leave. Is that OK?"

"Would it be OK for you to put on the manacles you meant to keep on me back on so that you can take them off again?" He chuckled. "You realize how mad that sounds?"

"I don't want to get us in trouble!"

"That'd be fine." Loki kissed her forehead. "Except I already told Pepper about the manacles, oh, six weeks ago. She was probably trying to get a rise out of you."

"Six…that's nearly the time you've… Seriously!?"

"I didn't trust myself around you, and I wanted security in case–" Delilah silenced him with a kiss. He chased her lips with a contented purr. "Dessert?" She nodded and he made quick work of opening the door and shoving them both down the hall, giggling like schoolchildren as they rushed towards Loki's flat.

[thatesqcrush]

Mr. In Between, Ch. 5

Rafael Barba x Reader. Rafael Barba x Olivia Benson. Prompt inspired by @sweetsummertime99​: “ I was watching friends and it was the episode where Ross writes the pro/con list for Rachel and Emily. I’d like to see if someone would write the same kind of scenario not with a waitress but other attributes. Rafael Barba x Female Reader where Rafael writes the list and the reader finds it. Possibly comparing to Olivia?” CW: Smut. So much smut. Language. NSFW. AN: Sorry for the delay. Work has been bonkers and the fam jam has been under the weather (myself included - I sprained my ankle). My poor muse took a beating and needed a break. 

AN2: Tomorrow I am going to see Seared, so hopefully I will have some fun pics to share. Tags: @obsessionprofessional​ @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @delia26 @dreila03 @sass-and-suspenders @glimmerglittergirl @melsquared79 @mommakat32 @garturbo @southern-magnolia @niyashell​ @tropes-and-tales​ @imjustreallynosy​ @whyissvuruiningmylovelife​ @sweetsummertime99​ @evee87​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @kscarlett1​ @cesarofangirl78​ @redlipstickandplaid​ - anyone else just ask.

Your lips crashed against Rafael’s as his hands skimmed the outside of your thighs. His hands made their to your derrière and he squeezed, before trailing back up and under your cream colored sweater. Rafael nimbly undid the back clasp of your bra and explored the softness of your breasts. You let out a small sigh as his fingertips tweaked your nipples, causing them to harden even more. You could feel Rafael’s erection pressing up against you and you ground against his lap. Rafael broke away from your lips to suck on the hollow of your neck. You gasped as he nipped your skin, marking you. Rafael ran his tongue over the bruised skin to soothe it.  You pulled away to grab the hem of your sweater and deftly removed it in one fell swoop. Your bra soon followed, landing in a heap with your sweater on the floor. Rafael’s mouth was immediately on your exposed flesh. He squeezed your breasts together and swirled his tongue over them. His teeth gently grazed one nipple, then the other, causing you to shudder. You wrapped your arms around Rafael’s neck, and leaned over him, as he continued his oral fixation on your breasts. The ache that had developed between your legs had grown and your panties were were starting to soak with your desire. “Your tits are amazing,” Rafael groaned appreciatively before mouthing them once more. His touch and tongue on you was driving you crazy. You pulled away once more, your hands pulling at the hem of Rafael’s sweater, encouraging him to remove it. Rafael nodded and removed his sweater and undershirt altogether. You ran your hands over his chest, and then up to his shoulders, and then back down his arms, squeezing his biceps. Rafael pulled you tightly against him, so that you were chest to chest. Your foreheads were pressed against each others and you could hear his unsteady breathing in your ear. “Bedroom, now,” you panted. Rafael nodded. You squeaked as he stood, lifting you up on the way. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your arms around his neck as he brought you over to his bedroom. Rafael set you down gently onto the floor. You kicked off your booties and quickly removed your jeans, leaving you clad in just your lace underwear. Rafael stared at you with quiet intensity, taking in your near-nude form. For a split second, you could have sworn you heard him growl. “Fuck.” “Isn’t that the plan?” you teased, hopping onto the bed. Rafael chuckled low, as he kicked off his own shoes and unzipped his pants, stepping out of them. You felt the bed dip with his weight he joined you on the bed. Rafael kissed you once more as he lowered you onto the mattress. As your tongues dueled, Rafael’s hand made its way down your chest, to your stomach, to the apex of your thighs. Instinctively you parted your legs for him. You moaned as you felt his fingers push the thin material of your underwear aside and slip along your folds, teasing. “So wet,” Rafael purred appreciatively. You brought his mouth back down to yours, and Rafael used the opportunity to slip two fingers inside of you. The kiss broke as you gasped at the intrusion. Rafael slowly stroked you, his thumb rubbing slow haphazard circles on your clit. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs as he continued his ministrations. Rafael dipped his head to your breasts once more, mouthing a globe as he continued to finger fuck you. His tongue flicked back and forth over a nipple. “Don’t stop,” you moaned. “Oh God.” Rafael moved up and pressed a small kiss to the edge of your mouth. “Never,” he promised. As the familiar coil in your belly grew, Rafael inserted another finger, stretching you in the most delightful way. You groaned again, as you grasped the sheet, nearly balling the fabric in your hands. Rafael’s speed increased as he continued to finger fuck you; at one point he took the opportunity to scissor his fingers. You writhed against his hand, as pleasure seared your body. “Come for me,” Rafael purred in your ear. Your body stiffened as you your orgasm cascaded over you, Rafael’s name escaping your lips. Rafael continued to pump his fingers through your orgasm, before slowly coming to a stop. He made a big show of licking fingers before kissing you once more. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you pulled him closer. Rafael shifted his body so that his body covered yours. Rafael pulled away once more, so he could sit on his haunches and remove his boxers. Rafael’s cock sprung free; pre-cum leaked from the head. Rafael jerked himself over you, his eyes were heavy lidded with lust. “I have to ask,” Rafael began. “Are you sure about this?” Propping up onto your elbows, you nodded. “Never more sure.” And with that, you sat fully up and pushed Rafael onto the bed. The bed creaked as he landed onto his back. You positioned yourself so that you were in between his legs and took his cock into your mouth. The feel of your warm mouth on his cock, caused him to hiss in appreciation. “God, you’re such a good cock sucker,” Rafael groaned as he sat on his elbows watching his erection slip in and out of your lips. You hollowed your cheeks bobbing faster, enjoying how thick and heavy his cock was in your mouth. You relished in the salty taste of his pre-cum. You relaxed your jaw and took him deeper, triggering your gag reflex. You took a deep inhalation, pushing past the reflex. Your eyes watered but you ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. Rafael’s hands tangled in your hair, guiding you. “Fuck your mouth is so good, amor,” he purred. You ran you tongue down his length and back up, swirling over the head of his cock. You pointed your tongue and flicked it on the underside of the head, where it met the shaft, before taking him fully once more in your mouth. You could feel Rafael’s thighs shake, a sure sign he was close to coming.  You sat fully up once more, taking a breather. You spat onto your hand and gave Rafael a couple of strokes, enjoying the sight beneath you. Rafael pulled you up to him, kissing you hard, tasting himself on you. He rolled you, so this time you were on your back. Rafael lowered himself onto your body increase more and instinctively, you wrapped one leg around his hip. You reached down and held your panties to the side. Rafael pressed the head of his cock into your soaking cunt, and then slid into you slowly, inch by inch. You groaned as he stretched you; you almost forgot how well endowed and thick his cock was. You felt wonderfully full; there was a slight burn mixed with pleasure. You gripped his biceps and bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut. With a snap of his hips, Rafael bottomed out and fully sunk into you. “Don’t move,” Rafael half-groaned, half whispered. “I know,” you whispered in response. “I need a minute too.” The reunion of your bodies was almost too much - it felt as if every nerve ending was exploding like tiny fireworks. You realized in that moment, despite all the one night stands you had, no one felt as good as Rafael - no one made you feel as complete as he did. After a beat, Rafael began to thrust - slowly at first, but soon enough the tempo quickened; the obscene sound skin hitting skin and moans of pleasure filled the bedroom. Drops of wetness hit your face and what you thought were beads of sweat rolling off of Rafael, were actually tears. You reached up to cup Rafael’s face. “Rafi—,” you began but he cut you off. “I’m so sorry,” Rafael cried, nearly collapsing onto you. His body shook, wracked with sobs. You froze initially, taken aback by surprise. You then bear-hugged Rafael, wrapping your legs and arms tightly around him. “I forgive you,” you whispered into his ear. “Rafael, I forgive you.” You knew you needed to say it out loud for the both of you. Rafael lifted his head from the crook of your neck and stared at you. His green eyes were wet with tears. “I mean it,” you replied, stroking his cheek. “I forgive you. I'm yours.” “And I, you,” Rafael replied softly with a smile. You both kissed and for awhile you stayed like that - a lazy makeout session. You both enjoyed the simple reunion. Rafael’s erection softened somewhat earlier and as you two shifted, you could feel him slip out. Rafael felt embarrassed, and he began to apologize. “I’m sor-“ he began but you pressed a finger to his lips. You shook your head and pushed Rafael off of you, so that he was flat on his back once more. You gently gave him a few strokes before moving to straddle him. You languidly rubbed your wet pussy against his length, soaking his cock with your juices. You continued rubbing yourself against his length feeling him harden beneath you. Rafael groaned as he watched your soaking cunt slide repeatedly over his cock. “If you keep that up, I am going to cum,” Rafael warned. Smirking, you shifted and rotated, so that your ass was to him. Rafael hummed appreciatively at your ass. Adjusting your legs, so that they sat on the inside of his thighs, you guided his cock back into you. You both moaned once more, as you began to set the tempo. You rode his cock from behind, relishing the full feeling once more. Rafael gave your ass a good smack and you groaned at the sting. Your tempo quickened and Rafael places his hands on your hips guiding you over and over onto his cock. Watching his cock slide in and out of you from behind turned Rafael on more than he could even imagine. “You look so good with my cock in your pussy,” Rafael grunted. “Fuck, fuck, fu-ck,” you whined. Looking behind, you slowed your thrusts, rolling your hips, teasingly. Rafael took the opportunity to smack your ass hard, leaving an imprint of his hand on your skin. Rafael sucked on his finger, thoroughly wetting it with his saliva before touching your puckered rosebud. Rafael fingered your asshole, gently probing before slipping a finger in. You cried out in pleasure and leaned forward more, still rocking slowly on his cock. Rafael used his free hand to smack your ass once more as you continued to fuck him. “Come for me,” Rafael commanded. You reached down and furiously rubbed your clit.  As you were already at the precipice, it didn’t take long for you to come undone. You shouted his name repeatedly as Rafael continued to thrust, deeper and harder. Feeling your walls flutter against his cock, Rafael stiffened and with a roar, he came, shouting your name with his release. You slumped forward, completely spent. Neither one of you moved. Finally, you slipped off Rafael’s cock and moved to snuggle with him. “That was amazing,” you sighed. Rafael’s chest rose and fell heavily, as he tried to catch his breath. You hummed as you listened to the rapid beat of his heart.

Rafael pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing. I love you.” You tilted your head up and placed a small kiss on the underside of his jaw. Sleep befell the two of you quickly, wrapped in each other’s embrace. TBC...

[mw-moriearty]

Superman III is an Anti-Capitalist Parable and Way Ahead of its Time

No seriously. Here’s the skinny.

Superman III came out in ‘83 and was directed by Richard Lester, who also directed the markedly inferior theatrical cut of Superman II three years earlier. Lester had a very different approach to the Superman series than his predecessor, Richard Donner: he insisted, ostensibly at the studio’s urging, on taking the series in a more camp comedy direction rather than the Old Hollywood epic movie tone Donner brought to the table. It makes sense, then, that audiences would push back against the goofier, lower-stakes tone of III. They were used to the (comparatively) operatic tone of the original Superman and, to a lesser extent, its sequel.

Superman III was a financial success, but it was negatively received by audiences and by critics, a negative reception that helped send the follow-ups Supergirl and Superman IV: A Quest for Peace to the bottom of the trash heap (not that they needed much help).

But, unlike those two installments, Superman III, when watched today with an unbiased eye, holds up much better than its reputation would suggest. The emphasized comedic undertones don’t stand out so much in this era of light, bantery Marvel films.

And, what’s more, Superman III is probably one of the most plainly anti-capitalist superhero movies of all time. Its maybe not “woke,” but its pretty damn close.

At the core of the film, and perhaps its most controversial element, is the comic relief character played by comedian Richard Pryor. Pryor’s character in Superman III may not be the most nuanced character of color in film, but he is also certainly not the Jar Jar Binks minstrel clown some make him out to be. What he is, is a naturally-gifted computer programmer so brilliant that he is able to hack into a government weather-controlling satellite while completely blitzed and effortlessly design a supercomputer so sophisticated it gains self-awareness. It is obvious the only reason that he lives on unemployment and can’t keep a job rather than being the next Bill Gates and giving the millionaire villain orders is the deep institutional racism upon which capitalism is founded.

The film is well aware of this racism, highlighting it in ways both big and small. Pryor is blackmailed into serving the rich white Trump-esque antagonist, played by Robert Vaughn, after being forced by his ridiculously small paycheck to commit embezzlement (the only victim of which being Vaughn himself, who is so dripping with surplus wealth that he has an artificial ski slope on the roof of his skyscraper). Their first interaction is full of condescending microaggressions on Vaughn’s part, such as cringe-inducingly calling Pryor “my man” in a manner that brings to mind the dad in Get Out.

When Pryor travels to Smallville, Kansas later in the film, he is visibly aghast at how eerily lily-white the whole place is, particularly staring in horror at a trio of porcelain-tinted mannequins in a store window. I’m sure his discomfort would be echoed by many black men taking their first step in rural southern America. Later, to infiltrate one of the businesses that he plans to hack in the small town, Pryor wears one of the awful suits worn by the aforementioned dummies and puts on an affected “white voice” to earn the trust of the drunken redneck that watches the place at night, a fitting commentary on how black men and women are expected to homogenize and “act white” to be above suspicion in white America.

And what happens when Pryor convinces Vaughn to give him the resources to construct his incredible supercomputer? Why, Vaughn and his sister appropriate it for themselves and put its unique capabilities to nefarious ends, shutting Pryor out of any control of his baby and leaving him out in the cold. 

Pryor is much more than a victim through all of this, however. I already mentioned how he took the initiative to bolster his paltry computer programmer’s paycheck by using a clever scheme to embezzle from his greedy millionaire boss. He also doesn’t let said boss kick him around, either. Though his circumstances leave him with little choice but to be a cohort in Vaughn’s schemes, when push comes to shove, he stands up for himself. He refuses to allow Vaughn’s order for complete control of the oil tankers to be irreversible, he fights for his fair cut of the loot when Vaughn starts profiting off of his brilliance, and in the end he stands by Superman against his bourgeoisie bosses. He even saves Superman’s life on multiple occasions, using both his computer smarts and eventually a fire ax to come to the big guy’s rescue. 

Given that Pryor has at least as much screen time as Supes throughout the picture, one is left wondering, who’s the real hero here? Why, its the guy running around in the frilly pink tablecloth, of course!

And Pryor’s not the only example of a downtrodden minority not being allowed to live to their full potential in a white supremacist patriarchal capitalist society. Perhaps the most interesting character in the film is the villain’s girlfriend, who is initially presented as a vapid, gold-digging bimbo until we learn that this is all an act on her part and she actually is a computer-wise, philosophy-reading secret genius herself. She only plays the part of the brainless trophy girl because life has left her few other options. It is a very fun subversion of the typical villain-moll dynamic, and it is a shame we don’t get more of this character, though she like Pryor is ultimately disturbed by Vaughn’s increasingly villainous actions and bails on him in the end.

But lets talk about Vaughn’s villain, and how he’s emblematic of the film’s ideas on rich white privilege as a whole. This is a guy who is so used to getting everything he wants that he sics a freaking hurricane on Colombia just because the country is competing with him in the coffee export industry. If that ain’t capitalism at its finest. He even repeats the tired adage “it is not enough that I succeed, others must fail,” misattributing it to Genghis Khan like an idiot. I mean seriously, who does this sound like?

This is the guy who gives us probably the most immortal line from the whole movie.

And that’s only the tip of the white entitlement iceberg. There’s also the running joke of the old white couple who win the Daily Planet’s vacation lottery and get sent off to Colombia, where we are treated to the wife saying things like, “look dear, a native wedding!” Cut to the most conventional looking church wedding ever. After this parody of cultural voyeurism, we have the couple later threatening to SUE Daily Planet Editor-in-Chief Perry White because A HURRICANE RUINED THEIR VACATION. What a couple of Karens.

The whole film is about the struggle between the working class and the rich. I’ll paraphrase one of the Smallville locals who, after seeing the chaos caused by the gasoline shortage brought about by Vaughn’s forced oil monopoly, says “I don’t know what’s going on, but I guarantee you, someone’s getting rich off of it. Someone’s always getting rich off of it.”

Oh yeah, and Superman is in this movie too a little. There’s a plot wherein Vaughn tries to synthesize an artificial kryptonite in an effort to kill Superman and prevent him from foiling his dastardly deeds. But, this being a kryptonite forged in the capitalist machine, its a lazy, half-assed copy that doesn’t even work right (leading to the above line).

That doesn’t mean that the kryptonite has no effect, though. Indeed, the symptoms of this knockoff kryptonite are fascinatingly similar to the effects of living under the crushing wheels of the capitalist regime. 

We actually see Superman, through this physical manifestation of the exertion of capitalist oppression, deteriorate into a selfish, depressed, bitter shadow of his usual self. As this happens, the colors of his costume subtly grown more dark, drab, and dingy. Superman becomes concerned only with doing what is best for himself without regard to anyone else, giving up the whole “saving people” thing and even letting himself be coerced by the moll into ripping a giant hole into an oil tanker in exchange for a little nookie (the subsequent disturbing image of a massive oil spill creeping across the surface of the ocean is maybe the film showing its hand a little bit). Many socialist and anarchist thinkers have raised the thought that this exact selfish mindset is the natural effect of being socialized in a capitalist society.

Let’s be clear, this isn’t just “evil Superman”. This is Superman so crushed by self-loathing and the futility of his actions that at the lowest point in his decline we see him looking like this:

Indeed, this sad, alcoholic Superman very deliberately mirrors another character in the film: the aforementioned drunken yokel, who is also the former star quarterback of Clark Kent’s high school graduating class. This is a character who found, after graduating, that his celebrity status in school translated to nothing in the adult world, leaving him woefully unprepared for a real life where he is a functional nobody. Cue binge-drinking and pining for the glory days.

This all culminates in the movie’s most iconic scene, wherein Superman crash-lands in a junkyard and splits into two separate individuals: the above Superdick, and plain old Clark Kent. They then proceed to beat the shit out of each other.

Obviously, we aren’t meant to read this scene as literal; it isn’t actually, physically happening. It is a clever visualization of the internal struggle between the character’s two halves: Clark and Superman.

In fact, this very conflict is the heart of Superman’s story throughout the picture. This is examined in the form of Clark’s re-kindled relationship with childhood sweetheart Lana Lang. After the always tragic will-they-won’t-they of Superman and Lois, Clark and Lana’s romance is refreshingly positive and healthy. The obvious reason for this is that, unlike Lois, Lana isn’t just interested in the Superman persona. She loves Clark for Clark. He can be himself around her. Indeed, any romantic incursions between Superman in costume and Lana are portrayed as downright toxic, as in the unsettlingly realistic scene where Superman, first beginning to feel the effects of the faux kryptonite, makes several forceful, sexually aggressive advances on Lana in her own home. The obvious fear and discomfort on Lana’s face during this scene is incredibly telling. She isn’t interested in an inhumanly privileged, aggressive thug in spandex. She likes Clark Kent, the regular guy.

So it is no accident that in this climactic junkyard scene, Clark comes to represent the character’s “good side” and Superman the “bad”. Because this is not simply a struggle between Superman’s good and bad halves, it is a struggle between Clark Kent, the spectacularly unspectacular working man, and Superman, the ridiculously naturally privileged enforcer of statist status quo. Proletariat vs. bourgeoisie. And Clark Kent, the proletariat revolutionary fighting his way out of the bourgeois Superdick’s corruption, wins.

Not that Superman then becomes a perfect champion of the working class for the rest of the film. He does defeat Vaughnald Trump and blow up the evil computer, but he also remains something of a parody of typical movie “white savior” figures. This is mostly clearly shown in the denouement where Superman, obviously thinking he is providing some great act of charity, drops Richard Pryor’s character off at a dirty coal pit far from his home and recommends him for an entry-level computer job there. Pryor understandably decides he’d rather not slave in a coal mine in the middle of nowhere for the rest of his life, and chooses instead to walk the nine miles to the nearest bus station. There is also the final scene where Superman (who in evil mode had straightened the Leaning Tower of Pisa earlier in the film in an extreme act of pettiness) returns to Italy and “fixes” the tower, smiling and waving in smug self-satisfaction at the locals below, oblivious to the poor souvenir salesman who has just finished making his setting up his new display of now-straight replica towers.

tl;dr, I think that Superman III deserves reevaluation not as the moment where the Superman franchise began its descent into crappery, but instead as a flawed but biting satire on privilege and capitalist corruption in America.

That’s my two cents.

[itsgonnabe-brian-may]

Finals Week Forgetfulness

// Gwil x reader

wc: 1.5k

I hope you don't mind but I was loosely inspired by @sweetlygwilym & as a science person I need more sciency y/n on my dash. Also, this fic was born out of pure procrastination so its trash but that okay, It's a lil blurb and fluffy.

Tags: @joemhazzello

//

Today was Friday and Monday was the start of your last round of finals for the year. But they weren’t done yet and you needed to study, so you dragged yourself out of bed. Though the peacefulness of it coaxed you back. Your boyfriend, Gwilym, still sound asleep. You had gotten out of bed before Gwil, which was a rarity. Gwilym woke to an empty bed, initial confusion was replaced by the realization that it must be finals week.  With a groan he pulled himself from the duvet, having the same thought as you. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he pulled on his attire for the day. Next, he padded into the kitchen in search of caffeine that he desperately needed.

It was hard not to notice your frame hunched over your books, almost like getting closer to the pages allowed you to absorb the information quicker.

“Studying already I see,” Gwil mused pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“Mhm,” you mumbled back barley lifting your gaze from your textbook, not wanting to lose focus.

A low chuckle escaped his lips before placing a fresh cup of coffee in front of you. Thin steam whisps carried the sent to your nose, the sent alone was almost more effective in waking you up than the actual coffee.

“God, your a blessing,” you smiled up at him and taking a sip. You couldn’t help let out a groan of pleasure. It was the start to a long day, long weekend. However, you’ve been through it before and it was your last round of finals before finally getting your degree. Giving you a burst of motivation. It also helped that you had Gwil, he would always make sure you slept and ate. Having been together for roughly 2 years, around 4 weeks of finals, you guys had a routine. You would get up at the crack of dawn, steal one of Gwilym’s sweaters and pair them with leggings, and study all day. Barely acknowledging people outside of the ones mentioned in your textbook. Normally you’d kick Gwil out to stop the distractions but today he was full booked with Interviews, so making sure he wasn’t bothering you wasn’t going to be an issue, not that he was an issue.

Throughout the day your coffee cup refilled and emptied as papers became more and more scattered. A half eaten sandwich sat beside your text books. The table had been turned from a place of gathering for people to a place of gathering of notes, notebooks, random study sheets, and highlighters. Lots of highlighters. All laid about haphazardly. But you were too absorbed into your studies to notice or care. Your passion for your major made it so much easier to study. You had gotten your Bachelors of Science and worked for a few years before deciding you wanted to go back to school and get your Masters Degree. It wasn't really going to advance your career but you enjoyed it, which is all that matters. You were lucky to have Gwil as your number one supporter, even if he understood nothing that came out of your lips when you got excited and went on a tangent. Normally, you'd catch on and apologize, but Gwil just shut you up with a kiss because he found your smarts incredibly hot. Just not on finals week.

Gwil’s day was definitely more exciting than yours. The 3 interviews he had scheduled turned out to be a blast. Plus anytime he could get with the full cast of Bohemian Rhapsody was a good time. Though he was mostly excited to get back home, maybe a little anxious, but mostly excited. Today was the day that Brian and Anita May were coming over for dinner as a thank you from both you and Gwil. Mostly Gwil, because there was no way he could have done his job without the immensely helpful and kind guidance of Brian.

You were also excited and planned an elaborate meal, except you had forgotten. Caught up into your studies was an understatement. So when the door opened and you heard Gwil come in laughing you perked up slightly. However, it wasn't until you heard two more voices chime in that you stood up pushing the chair out of the way and walked to the hall.

“Gwil, love, is that you— Shit“ you called running a hand through your messy hair. The last part was muttered under your breath as you suddenly became self-conscious of your appearance and the mess of study materials scattered about.

The 3 turned in your direction pausing their conversation to exchange greetings.

Brian gave a small wave in your direction, trying to hold back his laughter at your frazzled state.

“Y/N, it’s wonderful to see you again,” Anita spoke up pulling you into a hug as you silently thanked the gods that this wasn’t your first time meeting the pair. Brian was next to pull you into a hug, eyeing the mess of papers on the table.

Gwilym just pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You forgot didn’t you,” He chuckled quietly.

“Yea... I guess I got to caught up in studying,” you laughed shyly and moved to clean it up. However, Brian beat you to it. His curiosity had gotten the best of him and was already glancing at the math and physics problems that filled each page. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as he delicately picked up your notebook.

“Physics?” Brian guessed looking up at you with a kind.

“Yea, I’m actually about to get my Masters,” you explained sheepishly busying your embarrassed hands by gathering loose sheets of paper. You were no stranger to who Brian was and his PhD in Astrophysics. Sure you admired the man for being an absolutely brilliant musician and kind man, but you were more impressed with his passion and intelligence. The rest of the cleaning process was halted by conversation. The two of you quickly began discussing complex theories and laws. Gwil was kind enough to place a glass in wine in your hands, but it went untouched as you and Brian needed both hands to talk & visualize things.

"You understand anything of what they're talking about?" Anita asked Gwil as she helped prepare a simple salad.

"Not a bloody word," He laughed happily.

"Oh good, glad someone's with me," she responded patting his shoulder gently and laughing about something to herself.

Eventually, dinner was ready and the conversation shifted to anything and everything. Then the conversation moved to the living room where more wine was poured and more topics were brought up. You had drifted closer and closer to Gwil throughout the evening. Now you were pressed into his side on the couch, nursing a glass of Merlot talking to Brian about particle physics in stars. Again you two had fallen down a wormhole, though there's no physical evidence that they exist, of science-based conversation. Gwil had his arm wrapped around you and watched you admirably, still not understanding a bloody word. As much fun as the night had been you couldn't stop suppressing your yawns every 5 minutes. You had been up for at least 20 hours at this point, and the Merlot was not helping. Thankfully Anita noticed and kindly bid Brian that it was in fact time to go, for real this time. As each time they had attempted to part conversation drew them back. And no, it wasn't just the physics theories. Gwil and Brian had shared the same intensity conversations about guitars and books.

"Thank you for coming, I'm sorry It wasn't the nicest but I hope you still had fun," You apologized as you hugged goodbye.

"Nonsense! it was lovely, thank you for inviting us over," Anita smiled kindly.

"No, I believe it you who we thank, especially during precious studying time," Brian said sending a wink in your direction.

"Either way, thank you for coming, it was lovely having you," Gwil added finishing up the thank you's and they left.

As soon as the door was closed and locked you practically melted into his arms. With a gentle swoop, you were in his arms and on your way to the bed you had waited to return to all day. You lazily pulled off your leggings and clambered into bed, immediately resting your head on Gwil's chest.

"It blows my mind that you can be so smart and cute, I don't know what I did to have you in my life," He breathed out pressing gentle kisses to the forehead.

"I love you Gwil, especially when you put up with my studies," you murmured tilting your chin to look up at him.

Instead of responding he connected your lips to his. The kiss was lazy but filled with admiration and love. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you blissfully allowed him in. Your body fell heavy and all stress from the day disappeared like your fingers in Gwil's brown hair. There were no ulterior intentions to the show of affection, just pure love and admiration. When you pulled away you placed a small kiss to his cheek before driting off into the peace. Hoping to find solace in it for as long as you could before dawn came and you were forced to finally face the mess of papers still on the kitchen counter. Where sitting on top of the notebook a pale colored sticky note saying "Wishing you the best on your finals - Bri" would be found.

[mizu-writes-kumo]

Shance prompt (if it's alright with you) where Shiro is the reincarnation of God of Life and Lance is the reincarnation of God of Death (also if it's alright can I stay anonymous? I am not able to use private messenger on mobile browser so yeah, thanks)

I really liked this idea,  It was fun, even if I don't super like the why I ended it, it was how I planned to do it.  I hope you like it!

Also you can heard it here on AO3. 

--

Life has a beginning and an end.

Death is eternal.  

Unlike Life, Death does not have a start and an end.  Death is never born.  Nor does Death end and fade away.  Death is as they always have been, and how they will always be.  Existing. Until there is no more time left.

Life does not lose Death.

But Death always loses Life.

Life dies, and fades, and is born again in a new body and new soul.  

Leaving Death to wait for Life’s return to them.  Left to wander around searching for Life so they can been together again.  

While Death merely...moves on to a new vessel.

Death’s new vessel’s name was Lance...is Lance.

Lance was a real person before Lance was Death, and Death was Lance.  

With a family that loved him.  And a handful of friends that truly cared for him.  He wanted to travel as much as he could.  Meet as many people as he could, and maybe fall in love with someone on a trip.   

He died...somehow.  

It is slightly fuzzy, but that’s how it always is for Death with a vessel.  Because they die...but they don’t die.  That and without Life, Death is a shell of themselves and their vessel.  They don't know things they should, beyond being Death.  Nor will they until they find Life again.  So in the end it doesn’t really matter at all.  

Lance wonders about most the world after becoming Death.  

Not really knowing exactly why.

It seems like he is following a pull of something.  Something that leads him to every hospital, every farm, every animal shelter and breeder, and every flower shop, he can find.  Fruitless searching something he has no clue about.  But he knows, somewhere deep, those are the places to check.

What Lance is looking for is usually there.

Natural places for Life to be doing something.

So he is left to just wander around.  Listlessly searching in a half knowledgeable daze.  Not really filled with any emotion about it.   Just waiting for things to happen.  Because it will and he knows it will be like waking up from a dream.

Sometimes, Lance stays in a city for a while.

Like the one he was in currently.

It is large and full of people, and animals, and things.  Bursting with activity and life at all times.  Lance had been there for just over a year know.  He’s checked everyone hospital, animal shelter, vet, and florist shop in the place.  Part of him knows he should move on, go to the next place.  Only it feel like there is no other place.

So he wonders around the city daily.  

Wandering and wandering.

And he always stops in front of small flower shop.

Staring at it.

Star Garden was the name of it.  It’s a tiny little place, crammed between a tourist shop and a popular restaurant.  Probably statistically placed in reality, and doing well for itself.  Despite the fact that it looks like it's half starting to fall apart.  But there was always buckets overflowing with beautiful vibrant flowers.

“Are ever going to buy anything from my shop?” A voice suddenly asked.

Lance turned to the sound of the voice to see a man squatting in front a bucket of yellow flowers.  A relatively good looking man by Lance’s tastes.  Square jawline, built and broad, with hair that looked soft...even with the weird white bang fluff he had going on.  A scar rested across his nose and soft smile on his lips.

Lance knows he’s never meet this man before.  

There had been a young woman with whitish hair that was very polite when Lance first came in.  And there as another man with a mullet.  He was never very nice, and always demand Lance either buy something or get lost.

“I am not good with flowers.”  Lance stated simply.

“Okay, but to be fair to my shop, most of the flowers I sell out of pots only last a week.”  The man said as he moved to strand up and turned more towards Lance.  He’s a few inches taller than Lance.  And he has a name tag that reads ‘Shiro’.  “That’s how bouquets kind of work.  It’s kind of the sad truth.”

Lance hummed absently as he shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket.  Before he took a step towards Shiro and the buckets of flowers.  He knows they will  start to wilt the moment he touches him.  Because that’s just want they do now since he became Death.

“I don’t have a reason to buy flowers.”  Lance said after a small beat of silence.  

“Then why do you stop by everyday then?”  Shiro asked with a cute titled of his head.

Lance shrugged in reply.

Shiro hummed at him with a slightly frown.  

“What?”  Lance asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Usually people have some sort of answer, like fate...or Allura.”  Shiro said simply with something that looked a bit of a pout..  “Or they need to buy flowers.”  He paused before he snorted a bit.  “Honestly, you could have said a unicorn told you to come every day, and it would be less weird than shrugging.”

“Well, in my defense, I think I only have like half brain cell functioning.”  Lance shoot back.  “I feel like am wandering around in some kind of dream waiting to wake up.  And there’s just something about this place...that keeps pulling me back.  But not like in a fate way.  If that makes sense?”

Shiro made a small face at the words.

One was clear that what Lance said made no real sense to him.  The smile after was just to be polite and kind to the weirdness.  Because he didn’t wanted to hurt Lance’s feelings.

“Like I said half a function brain cell.”  Lance tried to recover.

Shiro laughed lightly at the statement.  Nodding in agreement that, yes, Lance had said that and it was clearly very true.  

“Maybe give it a bit of a rest when you get home.”  Shiro said as he turned back to the bucket of yellow flowers.  “And since you never buy anything, maybe I can interest you in a free sample to put in a vase or tall glass, whatever you have.”  Shiro continued as he reached down and pulled out a tall stem of a flower.  “Make your dining table nice and pretty.  Maybe help convince you purchase something from my little shop.”  Shiro held the flower out towards Lance with an encouraging look.  “Come on, take it.  It’s going to wither and die anyway.”

“No, I reall--”

“Take it, please.”  Shiro insisted as he held the flower out further towards Lance.  “It’s not like it’s going to wilt immediately in your hand.”

Lance knew the flower would very much to that.  Okay well not instantly.  But it would start to droop and loose color as it started to wilt away.  Once Lance reached the end of the street after saying his thanks and goodbyes, it would be brown and gone.  

Taking the flower was not an option.

He needed to make up some excuse as to way.  Like severe allergies or a cat or a cat with severe allergies.  Something that was reasonable for turning down a simple flower when he comes to look at a flower shop everyday.  That way he wouldn’t have to touch the flower or anything.

Yet…

Lance takes his hand out of his pocket and takes the stem.

Being mindful not to touch Shiro beyond a passing brush.  Humans are not like flowers, they won’t die at a touch from him.  But if Lance isn’t careful he’ll drain a little life energy.  People usually get tired or fall suddenly ill.  And Lance wished to avoid that at all costs.

“Thank you, that is very kind of you.”  Lance said as he watched Shiro take his hand away.

Lance kept his gaze on the flower.  Watching the amount of wilt that takes all, as a judge of how much time he could truly linger before anyone would notices.  He could hear Shiro brush of his thanks and say something else.  But he doesn’t listen, merely watches the flower.

Which surprisingly doesn’t wilt in Lance’s hold.

And then it’s like wake up from a dream.

The haze on his knowledge lifts. The world seemed a little brighter.  Feels a little warmer and softer.  Even sounded a little louder, and moved with a familiar buzz, Lance hadn’t felt in a long long time.  Like there is a sort of breath and life to it all.  

Like it did whenever Death had Life.

That was why...

Quickly Lance looked up and Shiro.  

Real name Takashi Shirogane, age 26, born in February.  Yet time and cause of death is a little fuzzy, in the way Life’s always was for Death.  As the universe intended it to be.  There had to be order.  Life had to end, and Death needed not to stand in the way of that.

Finding the other’s gray eyes wide.

Like his mind had just be flooded with all things Life knew and felt.

Gently Lance reached out to rest a hand of Shiro’s arm.  Finding it warm and pleasant, under his touch, like it always was.  He smiled softly as he carefully guided Shiro to a small bench in the front of the shop to sit down.  Life always takes a moment to come back to him when he meets them again.  

Because it’s not just like a haze being lifted.  

Life is born again.  They never have any lingering sense of knowledge like Death does when they take a new vessel.  Rather it is like a sort of bloom opening, and things fall into place.  It has always been there, but hidden away.  And meeting Death well...it kick starts it all.  But it still takes a moment or two work through the initial burst.

“Hello again, my love.”  Lance said once Shiro looked up at him again.

And he could feel his heart start to beat again at the smile he received in return.

--

AN:  I hope you enjoyed this.

Also again I think took the italics off, cause it usually does and I am too lazy at the moment.