#a whole fucking mood good luck Grace

[tragedy-of-commons]

fuck it we ball. hsr prom date hcs because i am on something different tonight. based on my very limited experience.

dan heng

he's painfully awkward. like you expected it when you asked him to be your date but it's even worse than you predicted...

he DID pick you up and he WAS almost an hour early, causing you to rush down the stairs and almost trip (not very magical-teen-coming-of-age-moment-like of you). that kind of lightened the mood though.

also painfully sweet! upon your arrival he gives you a boutonniere/corsage that matches your outfit which he had managed to keep hidden. his sweaty palms were not just because he was nervous, then...

march helped him pick it out, he admits with red-tipped ears. that makes sense, because she was suspiciously interested in what you were wearing to the function.

but he did also forget to pick out one for him. oops.

during the slow dance bit, his hands are sweaty. you don't care because your eyes lock and there's the fuzziness curling in your gut that plagues you whenever you're with dan heng.

overall, a good experience! polite and always willing to humor your whims, even if he's a little stiff.

and if you peck him on the cheek after he walks you back to your doorstep, well, that's alright with him. more than alright.

black swan

life of the party. not in a screaming-getting-way-too-into-the-music kinda way, but in the way that everyone wants a sliver of her attention. she's always relaxed, interesting to talk to, and dreamy to boot! it wouldn't be any different at prom.

but black swan, above all else, wants to just... spend time with you. anyone that wants to chat can wait until later, when she's not watching you stuff snacks into your pockets with a fond look in her faraway eyes.

to commemorate the occasion, you're cajoled into the photobooth where you both hold up props and make funny faces for the camera. you know black swan doesn't cherish much above memories, even if they're immortalized in a gag reel where you're clad in silly-straw glasses and her in a purple mustache.

but in the last photo, right before the camera flashes, she sneaks a kiss on your cheek. your eyes are blown wide in surprise in the picture and that's her favorite part!

surprisingly adept at dancing. depending on your taste, she will either dip you dramatically and take the lead, or fall into your steps and try to make you feel more comfortable if you're nervous.

cherishes any memento from the event. she does the teasing, though, so don't get any ideas about poking fun at her for being sappy.

a great date, i dare say.

aventurine

it's a given that both of you look the best. dressed to the nines.

the whole thing is a bit sensationalized, though. mostly because he's used to everything being treated like a spectacle, aventurine tries his best (while looking like he isn't trying at all) to give you a good time.

his saving grace is that... he's here with you. everything is more enjoyable this way, even the distastefully loud music matches the pulse in his ears when he looks at y💥💥

his favorite part of the event, surprisingly, is when you ask him to ditch with you early. makes a little joke like "wow, are you having that bad of a time with me?" but there's a bit of weight behind it that you can sense. anyway, you answer by rolling your eyes and pulling him outside.

away from the noise, pretenses drop and You Hold His Hand, telling him that any time with him is a good time. but this is infinitely better, even if you're both just stood in the parking lot.

you both decide to stay a little longer. at the end of the night, the principal gets into one of those dunking booths for the children to throw balls at to get them dunked in water. aventurine bets you a date that he'll hit the target.

you know he'll win (his luck kind of scares you), so of course you take him up on that wager, very excited to lose. it's very sweet.

lol he does hit the target

you both are prom celebrities for the rest of the night with another date set in stone a week from now!

kafka

imo she would make the best date out of everyone on this list.

mostly because any outing with kafka is almost cataclysmic in its impact... starting when she pops over at your place to help you get ready! surprise!

zips you up/adjusts your lapels/make sure your makeup looks good/whatever is part of this whole routine for you. she does so while humming a dulcet tune. she wants to be involved with every aspect of your pivotal prom experience tbh. keen on making memories like black swan is, but the effort is unconscious.

also. since blade has his driver's license, she basically bribed him into being your chauffeur for the night. i think that'd be a fun detail.

if you suck at dancing, never fear, because she also isn't very good (or so she says, but she's kafka, so of course she makes it work).

is not opposed to silly photobooth pics but she'd rather have someone take a candid of you both together by persuading them nicely - more her speed.

her eyes are ENCHANTING in that dim lighting... i just know... you get so distracted that you trip over her feet. silver wolf, the resident DJ that the school hired, sees and laughs.

has that tattered jacket thrown over whatever she decides to wear. she drapes it over you if you get cold due to the weather or temperature inside of the building.

[liroutrozenberg]

The path to friendship lies through…alcohol? 1 part (?)

You were not sure that flying to this godforsaken planet was a good idea. Karma, the universe, fate, and in general all higher powers clearly did not like you. Learning a new culture and language was difficult, but you did it. You were pushed out of the ship and told to quickly stomp back to the base. The first test, led by Grace's sarcastic canker, who immediately made clear her "great joy" at his arrival, was the very next day. They didn’t even let me settle in, Herods.

And of course you decided to celebrate it. "I'm kind of a scientist too!" as you once said, sipping infernal vodka in your basement. You wanted to get drunk on the first day, but after such a busy program, you fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. And now it was just perfect, and you pulled out a bottle of good moonshine. And as is always the case in the army, everyone in the barracks found out about your little feast. It's good that you are a prudent person and took more than one bottle. Just like knew!

Somewhere after the second or third bottle of vodka, which you also grabbed, an idea crept into your drunken brain. "But what if you take one bottle, well, or two, and go treat these natives? Maybe that's the whole point? They just don't know how to relax like people, so they go gloomy." You chuckled at your thoughts. The plan is perfect. Reliable as a fucking Swiss watch. You will come to their village, share your sacred vodka and end the war.

On the wings of love, you rushed to the scientific department, where the capsules for moving into the avatar were located. You weren't sure that your booze-filled mood would translate into your avatar. But don't give a damn? The shift of consciousness passed quickly and you gladly felt the same heaviness in the brains as in the human body.

On the wings of love, you rushed to the scientific department, where the capsules for moving into the avatar were located. You weren't sure that your booze-filled mood would translate into your avatar. But don't give a damn? The shift of consciousness passed quickly and you gladly felt the same heaviness in the brains as in the human body.

On tiptoe, as if one of the Marines could now notice you even back to back, you made your way to your place. Two will obviously not be enough and you took three three-liter cans of moonshine. Carefully putting them in a backpack, and that's the only way with alcohol, you quietly dumped into the forest. "Even too simple," you think, and then remembers that he saw the guards in the barracks. So no one guards the gate at all! That's luck. And the drunken brain somehow forgot about the cameras. Well, fuck them!

It wasn’t long to go, you didn’t even go very far from the base, the light of powerful lanterns still reached you. Soon the brain began to sober up and you did not like it. You chose the most attractive tree nearby and sat next to it, leaning on it. The first half of the bank went with a bang. After all, these “naavis” have an amazing organism, like half a can, but only a slight weakness in the body.

But no one let you get drunk further. A rustle was heard in the bushes, and a local representative of reasonable people jumped out into the light. You tried to focus your eyes on the sudden disturber of his peace. The same blue skin as yours, maybe a shade darker, two arms and two legs, an unremarkable native. The absence of eyebrows and a slightly rougher face were certainly not the standard of beauty, but it’s not for you to judge the beauty of local men.

"Who are you, demon? You don't belong here" - an unknown language cut his ears. It's like the same "na'vi" that the woman scientist told you about. Does he need to learn another language? I barely learned English, and then I have to learn this muttering of savages. Well, they've arrived.

"What?" - you were not able to say more politely now, you got in touch with the wrong one, mummers. - "Do you speak iglish? Andestend? Fershtein? Hey, you.. how are you? I am Y/n. Come here already," - and you slap the ground next to you. The blue-throat obviously does not like your benevolence, but he nevertheless sits down next to you, at a great distance from you and stares at him intently. "That's the number. It's like I'm forcing it," you think, and he doesn't care at all that this is actually the case. - "Well, do you have a name?"

"Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan," he says importantly, wrinkling his nose as he examines the bottles at your feet.

"Oh, interested? This is our traditional drink. Just a hell of a thing, you'll like it" - you say enthusiastically. It seemed that it could be better than to make a native drunk with imported alcohol?

"Traditional?" - the fish pecked.

"Of course, not a single feast happens without it. You will hurt me very much if you refuse," Tsu'tey's face immediately showed where and how he sees your feelings, but he clearly struggled with himself. Still tradition. Grace said they were very important to the Na'vi, which is why you hit that sore spot. at least some of her chatter really helped.

Tsu'tey, meanwhile, takes one can in his hands and takes his first sip. You are quite smirking.

+

"Are you respecting me?"

None of you knew that you get drunk so quickly from only three cans. But apparently for a blue-backed Na'vi, not accustomed to earthly alcohol, three liters of this drink was enough. You drank six in one face. The mood was upbeat, the conversation was going well, and you already seemed to know each other for eternity. And as good friends, you decided to move on to more serious topics, the topics of fraternal relations.

"I respect you," Tsu'tey answered you with such a serious face that you already laughed. Your bro was so funny sometimes.

"We always respect .. they raise a toast, and if a toast is raised, then you have to kiss."

"Necessary?"

"really need it"

Tei, as you already called him to yourself, giggles drunkenly, burying his forehead in your shoulder. His body is clearly not holding, but he stretches his lips with a tube and reaches for the Marine's cheek. You are not in debt and also wants to prove their respect. Blue-backed, on the other hand, cannot withstand the pressure of gravity, although it was weaker than on Earth, and you collide. lips. The drunk brain doesn't always understand what it's doing, which is why you didn't end the kiss. Even more, you pulled Tsu'tey close to you, holding him in a steely grip as if he wanted to escape. It was clear from the mutual movement on your lips that the Na'vi was not going to run anywhere, but you were in no hurry to unhook your hands.

When the lips already began to hurt, and the hands become numb, they finally move away from each other. Both of them were already falling asleep, the grass under them seemed softer than any blanket, and they, still exchanging lazy kisses, lay down on it and fell asleep in each other's arms.

+

And apparently your drunk human brain has not yet sobered up if you woke up in the body of an avatar. Sounds hit sharply from all sides, from which you even swayed, trying to get up. Sounds of the forest..? How did you even get here? An attempt to get up was unsuccessful, something was holding you from your back.

When you turn around, you are dumbfounded to say the least. Behind you, tightly hugging you from the back, lay Tsu'tey, sniffing sweetly on your shoulder blades. The memories of last night hit your head sharply, you blushed to the ends of your hair.

Meanwhile, Tei began to stir, waking up. Sleepily wrinkles his nose and presses against your shoulder, trying to keep warm. the blue-assed sleeping beauty finally wakes up and looks at you in shock, obviously not expecting to see you in the morning, and even in her arms.

The first part of your drunken adventures has come to an end (probably)

[gyahyahyahayhahayahyahyahyahyaha]

hAd a dream wher i was supposed to be acting in a role... an improvised role... it was like i was on some kinda variety show... i think the role i was given was something along the lines of "dedicated goon(hench(wo)man) and i guess the wy i chose to interpret and act this out was to act like someone dutybound by oath to serve my boss or whatever. like if the most dutiful and honourable lady knight in the world were a fucking capital G goon lol. of course this didnt really make for a very funny show but as i was walking to the room where inwas to take post, it was like something shifted. like i had no reason to act anymore. alls i knew was to play the role od the perfect "maid" and wait for the perfect opportunity. it all felt too real.

there was something i saw that told me i had to bide my time, play my role perfectly until i am able to pounce on the opportunity. even if that means biding my time for decades. however the whole point was to make sure it didnt take thst long.

i decided to take up a doormans stance next to the entrance of this somewhst small (small for a dining room anyways, the table made sure there wasnt much room between tbose seated at the yable and the guards and maids waiting on hand for their respective bosses' orders and sich and so forth.) white walled room with s deep red velvet(?) carpeting. i guess i was tryna olay the role of a perfect maid and lady knight at the same time. cuz at some point some uninvited guests showed up... i think they were called the grey wizards. or grey something... they all had these robes and hoods with various shades n hues of purple and lacender an all that and they all but barged in and started helping themselves to what was at the table. they all occupied only the side of the table closest to me

when they waltzed in, the mood visibly shifted to one of contempt anf disgust ,and most of the other guests at the table were afraid at first but my boss wasnt at all. she, like me, merely waited for the perfect moment to strike. before that though the grey wizards wree all acting like it was their right to be there and helped themselvds to what was on the table. they were most definitely gorging themselves on it. some of them were telling us that we should be grateful for their presence since "grey wizards showing up at your doorstep is a sign of good luck" and other such bullshit.

the boss made a handsignal thst i wasnt familiar with anf with it every grey wizard suddenly had small short knives with a black-purple gradient embedded into each of their heads. she then looked at me, made another handsignal that i DID recognize and next thing i know im cleaning up the blood anf the bodies in a really cool looking maid outfit. it had like some red and blue striped vertical ptterns and like some spikey like cuff frills... idk what their called but like it was pointed more thsn frilly.... i even had the maid headband and a fuckijg mop. me and the other maid cleaned them up right quick while the boss and her guests on her side of the table all waatched. she looked at each of them and started giving an impassioned speech stating that "we domt have to put up with their unruly and selfish demands anymore. we can fight back" amd other such things. tbqh im not sure but i think they grey wizards were just government sanctioned assassins or smth. maybe they were magic too but it seems to me they were nust jobbers LOL

i think i at some point let it slip and responded to my boss with a "yes, your grace" and just never stopped acting like thst ever since

i think this was all taking place in a restaurant

04/03/2024

[honeypiehotchner]

delicate -- Hotch x Reader one-shot

Here’s that one-shot I’ve been holding for a while! Named her delicate after Taylor Swift’s song, purely because of the whole “dive bar on the east side/where you at?” imagery. I listened to the Spotify Singles (acoustic) version of the song while writing this, if you wanna listen while you read! Enjoy!! xx.

Summary: Hotch doesn’t go to bars very often. Until he meets you at one.

Warnings: age gap (reader is somewhere around 24-25), mentioning of being safe at a bar (so alluding to date rape drugs), harassment from one drunk dickhead

Hotch Masterlist

Hotch doesn’t go to bars.

When he’s not on a case, working on paperwork for a case, or caring for his son, he’s normally asleep.

Not at a bar.

But some nights, the memories are too much. Some nights, the cases take a toll on him — especially the children that never made it back home to their parents.

He doesn’t know why he’s in a bar. The only time he comes is when the team goes out and wants to drag him with. It’s normally Dave who manages to get him to agree to a beer or two.

But Aaron is alone this time.

You, on the other hand, know exactly why you’re in a bar.

You’re bored, you’ve just finished your masters degree, you need a drink and some time to yourself to people-watch.

It’s fun, really. Observing people while they’re drunk. You usually have one drink and switch over to water, wanting to remember the things you see while also staying safe.

But occasionally— or, well, more than occasionally by the sheer unfortunate fact of you being a woman alone in a bar, you get the typical man sliding into the seat next to you before he’s even all the way through his rehearsed, “Is this seat taken?”

You never answer. There is no point in trying because their ass already hits the chair before you can say, “Yes, it’s taken, by my foot, now move before I kick it up your ass.”

You never say that, not often. Sometimes the guys can be pretty big assholes, but the bartender, Vanessa, knows you well, so she usually threatens security before you get yourself in trouble.

Unfortunately, tonight looks like it’s going to be one of those nights.

The bar is packed for a reason you aren’t privy too until you see (and hear) the random band start a new song. Great. Performance.

Still, you snag the last seat at the bar, waving to the bartender when she sees you. You barely get the seat warm before she’s sliding your usual in front of you.

“It’s on the house tonight,” she yells.

“What?” You shake your head. “No the fuck it’s not.”

She leans closer so she doesn’t have to yell as loud. “You are my saving grace in this sea of assholes, so yes it is. We can fight about it later.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. You dip your hands underneath the bar to switch your diamond ring from your right to left hand.

Tonight, you’re married.

You got this ring when your last relationship ended so badly. It was a long time coming, and once you were finally able to see the other side, you went out and bought yourself an engagement ring. Just for you. A promise to yourself to start loving yourself harder, and going out with dickheads less.

So far, it’s been wonderful. You’re loving being alone. It was exhausting going on so many first dates, trying to love someone else instead of letting yourself heal.

It’s been two years of singleness for you now, and you’ve loved almost every day.

The “wedding” ring usually makes most of the guys turn the other way. A few that are oblivious will try talking to you, but once they glance at your hand, they excuse themselves.

It’s hysterical, if you’re honest.

But some, unfortunately, don’t give a damn.

Like the guy who has just squeezed his way into the seat next to you.

You roll your eyes and prepare yourself for the shallow conversations because, for some ungodly reason, the band decided now was a good time for a break.

“You come here often?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Nope.”

“It’s a pretty good place,” the guy says, waving down the other bartender, his name is Nick. “You should come here more often.”

“Should I, now?”

“Yeah,” the guy grins. “You’ll see me.”

You roll your eyes so hard it nearly hurts.

“Wanna dance?”

“Not in the mood.”

“Can I buy you another drink?”

“No thanks.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Why, do you work here?”

“Look, I’m just trying to be nice.” Ah, there it is. The “nice guy” line.

You turn your head, raising an eyebrow. “Good for you. I’m not interested.”

“Ooh,” he feigns hurt, holding an open hand to his chest. “Ouch.”

You shrug. “You’ll get over it.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

“You sure you don’t wanna dance?”

“I’m married,” you say easily, picking your glass up with your left hand to show off your ring. You don’t drink from your glass because you made the mistake of looking away for only a moment, so now you’re paranoid that he might’ve slipped something in it.

The guy looks around, then back to you. “I don’t see a husband.” Oh, he sounds so smug. Like he’s pulled one over on you. Moron.

“He’s on a work trip.”

“Well, he’s not here.”

“You don’t want to get on his bad side, dude.”

“Oh really? What’s he do for a living?”

“He works for the FBI.” The lie slips from your mouth before you can stop it, and you almost laugh.

It’s something you’ve pulled from the countless guys that have said they work for the FBI, but have no badge to show for it. It’s always cracked you up. You’re aware there’s an FBI office around here, but you doubt a greasy, blackout drunk works for them. Let alone more than five greasy, blackout drunks in one night.

“The FBI, huh?” The guy says, just taking it in stride. “What’s his name?”

Right as you’re about to make one up until Vanessa can get back over here to threaten security, two arms slip around your waist.

You’re ready to throw caution to the wind along with your fists, but the owner of the arms says, “Just go with it, I’m Aaron.”

You turn your head to see a very handsome older man peering down at you, a smile on his lips that you can’t help but mirror. Something about his face has your gut screaming that you can trust him, so you play along.

“Honey! I thought you were in Texas!” You throw your arms around his neck for good measure, and also for a moment to casually get a good whiff of his cologne. Goddamn. You’ll gladly be his fake-wife. Any day. Forever.

“I was,” Aaron says, squeezing you before letting you go. He moves to stand next to you, his arm around your waist in a protective manner. “We landed early, wanted to surprise you.” He kisses your knuckles to keep up the act, and then settles his eyes on the man who was bothering you.

“You must be the husband,” the guy mutters bitterly. “You really work for the FBI?”

Oh, fuck, you think. This guy just doesn’t give up. A few future scenarios flash before your eyes, but the one most alarming is a fight erupting, which isn’t all that far-fetched. You’d never be able to come back if you caused something like that.

But before you can stumble through some excuse, Aaron is pulling out a badge. An actual badge.

“Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner. I’m the unit chief of the BAU,” he says easily, holding his badge out for as long as it takes the guy to inspect it. You have no clue what BAU stands for, but you’re just thanking whatever Gods might be real that this is happening.

The idiot is scowling by the time Aaron puts his badge away. He leaves without a word.

Your jaw nearly drops as you watch the guy go, and literally leave the bar. You had hopes that he’d leave you alone, but leaving the bar entirely is even better.

Aaron’s arm slips from around your waist as he moves to take the now empty seat next to you. All the while you’re gawking at him like you’re in some fever dream.

When he catches your eyes, he says, “What?”

“Am I dreaming?” You blurt. “Do you really work for the FBI?”

He chuckles and pulls out his badge again, holding it out to you where you can read it. And sure as shit, he’s an actual FBI agent. What the fuck.

You look up as he pulls his badge away. “Did you hear me tell the guy my husband worked for the FBI?”

Aaron shakes his head. “That was pure luck. By the way,” he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Aaron.”

“Y/N,” you shake his hand, smiling at the fact that Aaron wanted to go through the official pleasantries and that you got to feel how soft his hand is again. “Thank you for that. I thought he’d never leave.”

“No worries. And it’s best he did, I really didn’t feel like arresting anyone tonight.”

“Arresting him? For what?”

“Well for starters, harassment. But since that usually doesn’t hold up very well, I’d have to say it was for his cocaine addiction.”

Your eyes widen. “He was doing coke?”

“Well, not out in the open, of course, but there were traces of it on his nose and his eyes had that look to them. Addicts are easy to spot when you run into them enough.”

Who the hell is this guy?

“Oh, and forgive me, what’s your husband’s name?” Aaron gestures down at your left hand. “I might know him, but I can’t say that I recognize you.”

“Oh,” you move the ring back to your right hand, much to Aaron’s surprise. “I’m not married. I only put it on the left hand to try to avoid assholes like that.”

“I see,” Aaron nods, and if you’re not mistaken, he almost looks pleased.

Vanessa returns to get Aaron’s drink, and then gives you a look.

You want to scream, yes, I’m well aware he is dangerously attractive and that he’s talking to me but don’t you dare say a word to embarrass me.

Instead, you say, “Can you make me another?”

She nods in understanding and pours out your drink, setting off to make a second after sliding Aaron his beer.

“So,” you turn your body and prop your head in your palm. “What’s got an FBI agent in a bar on a Tuesday night?”

He takes a long swig of his beer before answering. “What’s the real story behind that ring on your hand?”

“Answer for an answer,” you sing, smiling at Vanessa when she brings you your drink. She leaves without a word, raising her eyebrows at you.

“The cases can be rough,” Aaron says vaguely, bringing your attention back to him. “You?”

“Got it as a promise to myself to never date another prick ever again,” you chuckle, gazing down at the ring. “It’s worked its magic, so far.”

“So far?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

He smiles through his next swig of beer.

+++

It becomes a routine, you and Aaron sharing a drink at the bar.

To your surprise, he has the same views as you about alcohol. It’s fun to have one drink, but getting wasted and blacking out isn’t.

It’s refreshing, if you’re honest. Everyone your age wants to get absolutely shitfaced every time they go out, and that’s just never been for you.

It helps that Aaron is older. Well— You’re not sure if it helps or not. Because he is significantly older, the farthest you two have gone is sharing a drink at the bar. He usually leaves first, needing to get home to his son, to do more case work, or there was one time when he actually got a call about a case mid-drink. He was gone for two weeks after that.

But he always comes back, and he always finds you here, at this bar.  

You mostly come every night to keep Vanessa company for an hour or two. To give yourself a break from the chaos of reality and to give her a familiar face in the sea of drunken customers.

Every night that Aaron isn’t here, Vanessa asks you where he is. Like you would know (you only do if he tells you of a possible up and coming case). Like you have his number (you don’t). Like you care (you don’t want to admit that you do).

“No Daddy tonight?” Vanessa teases, sliding you your drink.

“If you don’t stop calling him Daddy, I swear to God.”

“Oh, don’t swear to Him. He doesn’t need to get involved.”

You send a glare her way, but you’re holding back a laugh.

“Is he still on a case?” She asks, trying to be serious again.

You shrug. “Who knows. They can last pretty long. He was gone two weeks for the last one.”

“Keeping track, are we?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you two are killing me here, sharing drinks and not saying how you feel. It’s torture to watch you every week, you know.”

“He’s like...twenty years older than me. Or something.”

“And?” She scoffs. “Age is but a number. You’re an adult. He’s an adult. It’s fine.”

You shrug. “He probably just sees me as a friend. He would’ve given me his number or something by now, right?”

“I dunno, men are weird. But he’s older, he’s probably scared to make a move, scared he’ll make you uncomfortable.”

You shrug again. You appreciate her trying to show you the possibilities, the logical reasons for why the two of you haven’t gone any further from the bar, but you aren’t sure what to believe. Plus, it’s been a week since you’ve seen him. The last time you two shared a drink, he didn’t say anything about a case.

So, he’s either on a case again, or has stopped coming.

The latter thought has you debating getting shitfaced wasted for the first time in years. Being blackout drunk would probably hurt you less than if it’s true that he’s just suddenly ditched you.

But what stops you is when Vanessa runs back over, eyes wide. “Just spotted your hottie.”

Oh, now he’s my hottie? “What?” You inwardly scold yourself for sounding a little too giddy at the prospect of him being here. 

But if he’s here, why isn’t he sitting next to you?

Vanessa answers that one for you. “At a table in the back. He’s with friends I think.”

Friends? Never mind then on sharing a drink with him. “Oh, cool.”

Vanessa looks like she wants to say something, but is called away to another customer.

You don’t want to butt in with Aaron’s time with friends, so you stay at the bar, facing forward, nursing your one drink. Your mind conjures a plan in two seconds flat: finish your drink, head out for the night and discreetly look in Aaron’s direction, hopefully catch his eye, but if not, just go home and...shower and go to sleep.

Because if he wants to see you, he will. If he doesn’t, then he won’t.

Good plan.

Or at least, it is, until Aaron is sliding up beside you.

Your heart launches itself into your throat. You don’t say anything because you have no idea what to say. You were too busy assuming he’d rather be with his friends (which is...fine because it’s not like the two of you are...dating) to notice him walking up.

He says something for you, though. “Hey.”

Well, he might as well have stayed silent. What are you supposed to do with that?

“Hey,” you return casually, then offer a small smile. “Thought you’d be gone longer.” You operate on the assumption that he was on a case.

And he was. “This one actually worked in our favor.” He leans his elbows onto the bar, and naturally your eyes follow the movement. He’s not in a stuffy suit like the last few times, but he’s still in a dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Arms. You’re a complete sucker for arms, and he’s practically teasing you like this.

“That’s good,” you comment, taking a sip from your drink. “Here to celebrate?”

“Yeah, we are.”

Nick brings Aaron his beer, thankfully, because you know Vanessa would’ve made some not-so-vague comment about Aaron being up here -- and maybe let an “accidental” Daddy comment slip.

To your surprise, Aaron sits down.

Your eyebrows furrow. “I thought you’re here with friends?”

Aaron looks over his shoulder and shrugs. “Just my team, yeah. I imagine they’re tired of me, though.”

You doubt that’s the case, but you know that if you say that, he’ll just brush it off.

“Not even gonna introduce me?” You tease instead, but you honestly want to smack yourself. You need to get a better hold on your word vomit. Inviting yourself is insanely rude.

Aaron’s eyebrows raise slightly, clearly not expecting you to say that — or to even want to be introduced to his team. “They’re a lot,” he says. “They’ll make a big deal out of this.”

“This?” You question, gesturing shortly between the two of you. “What is this?”

“What do you want it to be?” He asks carefully, averting his eyes shyly.

“Well,” you exhale dramatically, swirling your drink. “I think when you’ve shared a drink with a woman more than...twenty times, it should at least be considered dating.” You cut your eyes in his direction, your chest swelling as you see a grin breaking out on his face.

“I think I’m a bad date,” he says, confusing you. He chuckles, adding, “You don’t even have my number!”

“I’ll get it at the end of tonight,” you say, touching his arm gently for reassurance. “Come on, I think the back of my head is burning from how hard they’re staring.”

He looks through the corner of his eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry in advance for them.”

“No need to apologize,” you shrug. “Friends can be the worst. Vanessa has already started asking questions about you.” You nod toward the bartender that is feigning interest in clearing a space behind the bar.

“I figured,” Aaron murmurs. “Okay.” He slides off the stool, grabbing his beer in one hand, and holding his other one out to you.

Your heart jumps harshly when you take his hand. It’s warm and soft and secure, everything you want and need. You grab your drink in your free hand, giving Aaron’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

As soon as you and Aaron approach the table, the older gentleman is punching the one with tattoos. “Pay up.”

Aaron witnesses the cash exchange and stares at them tiredly. “Seriously, guys?”

Meanwhile, you’re holding back a giggle.

“Well, hello,” the woman with the colorful fashion sense says. “Introduce us!”

Aaron looks ready to pretend like he doesn’t know any of them, so you step up and say, “He told me you guys would be like this.”

That gets him laughing, and he finally says, “Y/N, this is Penelope, Emily, JJ, Spencer, Derek, and Dave.” Each person nods, waves, or smiles when their name is called.

“I’ll try to remember,” you joke. “But no promises.”

You squeeze Aaron’s hand in yours, trying to get him to loosen up. He does, barely, so when he tugs on your hand, silently asking you to step closer to him so his arm can fit around your waist, you oblige.

“What was the bet about?” You ask, nodding toward the men who exchanged cash a bit ago. It was Dave and Derek if you’re remembering names correctly.

“Rossi thought Hotch was going to bring you back over here, but I didn’t agree,” Derek says, nudging Dave’s arm. “I didn’t think you’d go for him.”

“Well, that’d be embarrassing if I went for someone else, considering we’re dating,” you chuckle, leaning your head back to look up at Aaron.

“Dating? So it’s official?” Emily asks, looking a little more excited than you thought any of them would.

“I think it was official the first time we met,” you snicker. “He pretended to be my husband so some dickhead would leave me alone.”

Aaron’s arm tightens around your waist at the memory.

“Okay,” Penelope grabs her drink, then moves over next to you, linking your arm with hers. “Hotch, we’re stealing her. We need details.”

Aaron doesn’t look like he wants to let go at all, but you press a kiss to his cheek. “Told you it’d be fine,” you whisper to him.

He surprises you by pressing a kiss on your lips. Midway through, your brain reminds you that this is technically your first kiss with him. And it’s in front of his friends. Swoon.

After so many dates with guys who were ashamed to be showing any sort of affection toward a woman, it’s nice to find a man who doesn’t care who sees his affection.

What can you say? After dating so many boys, it’s nice to finally find a man.

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

[glowinggator]

Happy Valentines Day!

Request: Hey since tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, think we can have a Rottmnt special? Like crush made them homemade chocolate and shyly gives it to them? ✨✨ pretty please! 🙏

Pairing: All, Non-Poly. (Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, & April O’Neil.) 

Content Warnings: None! Except for swearing?? I don’t know if people still tag for swears or not </3 

Word Count: 1658

You thank the universe that nobody could hear your heartbeat, for if they could, the world would surely fall apart at the intensity of its beats. Your face burns hot, and your body shakes with each step you take. You pray to every deity you can think of that you don’t drop the chocolate you stayed up all night making. Pan after pan and recipe after recipe lead you to this moment, finally finding the perfect concoction. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. No, it is perfect! Right? Fuck, what’s the backup plan if he doesn’t like it? Should you scrap it? Should you have brought some for everyone? You’re so lost in your thought, you hardly recognize your surroundings as you step into the lair. An enthusiastic “hey!” from your friends seals your fate: there’s no turning back now. No second-guessing.

You’re gonna give it to them. 

Raphael:

He’s so excited!! Chocolate? For him? From his crush?

He actually has to ask if you’re serious first, he can’t help it. Like really? Ethereal you made him homemade chocolate? He has to be dreaming.

“Are you sure you’re not confusing me for someone else? Not that I’m saying I don’t want it! Wait hold on, this isn’t coming out right-”

Raph what other giant, anthropomorphic snapping turtles do we know???

He smiles so big when you manage to stammer out that yes, this is for him, and he cradles the package so gently too. He’s such a sweetheart.

He actually made you something too!

He puts the box down gently before going to his room to grab it.

It’s a small handmade card with a little bouquet of wildflowers! (White trillium and starflower to be exact. He thought they were really pretty.) The bouquet is tied loosely with a red ribbon, pulled gently into a bow.

He was so nervous about giving it to you, that he actually wasn’t planning to at all! He’s had everything planned for weeks, but his anxiety kept getting the better of him. But getting something from you was exactly the kind of encouragement he needed to take that final leap.

He’s so flustered when he hands it over, and the way his hands shake makes you feel a little less shy. Maybe he does feel the same way?

Two shy dorks in love <3

Leonardo:

Yoo, for real? For him? Hell yeah, thank you!

He’s really confident on the outside. Like, he’s so excited and accepting about it it’s unreal. All of your anxieties melt away, as they tend to do around him, and you can’t even remember why you were so stressed in the first place! It’s Leo, after all.

He’s dying (in a good way) on the inside though. He’s just internally screaming. Holy shit his crush is giving him chocolate? And it’s homemade? Oh my god look at that tiny white chocolate drizzle, that’s so cute!! Is that a strawberry?? MANY thoughts, head FULL, and in LOVE.

(He’s gonna hardcore brag about it to his brothers later.)

His heart is pounding out of his chest, although he doesn’t divulge that information.

He asks you out right then and there. Like!!!

He doesn’t actually say the word “date,” but god. You’re suddenly all shy again, and you can’t do anything but nod furiously.

The date is super casual, (yes its at Hueso’s. He begs him to pull out all of the stops, and he does so, even if only to shut up Leo. Actual king <3)  and it really puts you at ease. At some point he moves to hold your hand, and you can’t help the way your heart leaps into your throat. And he'd be lying if he didn’t feel the same way.

His confession is so eloquent, and yet… dorky. Sweet. Like he’s rehearsed it a million times, trying to find the best possible words to win your heart. Little did he know, he’s always had it.

Donatello:

oh no

He didn’t plan for this. Like, this was literally the one thing he didn’t plan for.

(He has confidence issues, give him a break!! How could he have known that you were going to give him something too? And give it first as well?? Which sets a precedent for the gift he gives?? Social interactions are Awful and he’s in Hell.)

He’s still pleasantly surprised though!

He kind of short-circuits for a moment, and he’s completely deadpan for at least three seconds. It’s the worst couple seconds of your life. Then he comes back to reality and thanks you super genuinely.

(It’s hard to read him at the best of times, and this is. So much. He just doesn’t know what to do with himself!!!)

He takes his time looking at every detail on the chocolates, and your anxiety dies down as you see the softest smile grace his features. It’s so genuine, and you don’t even think he knows he is smiling, so it’s really reassuring.

You take the time to really study his features, and fuck, he’s really pretty. You’re both flustered when you guys come back to reality.

He made you a gift too!! In fact, he has a whole day planned out.

It’s a long and fun day of running around the Hidden City, and at night, in New York.

It’s incredible.

He’s confident, and he says all the right things. He’s had this night planned out for weeks, and fuck if it doesn’t shine through.

At the end of the night, he gives you his gift with averted eyes. It’s a strange contrast to the pure exciting, confident persona he’s been putting on all day.

It’s handmade, and tailored to your exact interests and equipped with his own, Donatello-Style flair.

He’s confident in his tech, and he knows you like the back of his hand, but this is… completely new territory.

Valentine’s Day has never been so perfect.

Michelangelo

He did the same thing, actually!!! So this is actually so perfect for him!!

He spent all night making the perfect chocolates. Most of them are filled, and those that aren’t have some unique, artistic drizzle adorning them. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought he got them from a fancy chocolate place.

He genuinely can’t contain his excitement when you hand him the box all shyly. His eyes light up with the brightness of a dying star going supernova.

He immediately hugs you, careful not to crush the chocolates, and then his mouth is moving at a mile a minute. It’s almost hard to keep up!! He’s just so happy and excited, and he’s running to the kitchen and he has a box too??? Hello, what’s going on??

He’s trying so hard to not just blurt out a confession here and now.

It’s completely impromptu, but he suggests going out on the town. He didn’t plan it, he was honestly just planning to stay in and watch some movies with you, but now that you’ve brought him a Valentine’s Day gift too? That means you like him too right, maybe?

If he’s gonna confess to you, it’s sure as hell not gonna be in a sewer. (Even if it is his home. It just ain’t right, man!)

It’s really fun! You feel so at home with him, and there’s no pressure at all.

Everything just seems to fall into place around him. He’s your home. Unbeknownst to you, he feels the exact same way.

He confesses by the end of the night. It’s so sweet and sincere, but there isn’t a single moment of hesitation. He’s so head over heels for you, and that love shows itself in every movement and word.

April

She’s never been given chocolates before!! She’s always looked on in envy through middle school, highschool, at work, etc. So fuck, if she’s not immediately swarmed with emotion. She’s like, two seconds away from crying. I love her so much…

It’s actually really funny, because she ordered a really nice bouquet of ivory & pink flowers from her local flower shop for you, but they hadn’t arrived yet! She’s super upfront with it, and it gets a good laugh out of both of you. The classic April O’Neil luck, ey?

It definitely lightens the mood, and she suggests going out to a local restaurant to get lunch, and then maybe go sightseeing! Or maybe just goof around in the Hidden City? No pressure!

It’s super fun! You never want the night to end, to be quite honest.

You get to choose the music while you guys drive around, and you end up picking the silliest stuff. You guys laugh and belt out the lyrics to every song.

The food at the restaurant is perfect, and everything goes off without a hitch. At some point she reaches across the table to interlock fingers with you, and you’re suddenly alight with so much love and recognition that this is an official date, and your best friend - your crush - is holding hands with you, and her hand is so soft and warm and… you’re so in love. And unbeknownst to you, she’s feeling the exact same strain of emotion.

At the end of the night she takes you to a rainy spot in the Hidden City, and you guys dance and sing in the rain.

Everything feels so natural and perfect with her. She’s your safe space, your home, your world.

You can barely stand to part at the end of the night.

When you do get back to your home, you find her gift at your front door. It’s a beautiful bouquet of white Gardenias, pink Carnations, pink Peonies, and… a white Lily. They stand perfectly in a vase, apparently left at your doorstep by the delivery driver. You place them on your kitchen counter as soon as you can, and text her immediately.

You love her with all your heart, and she’s head over heels for you, too.

[lasquadrasfuckhouse]

hi !! i just found ur acc the other day n i really love it ogmgmmg !! if its alright with u, could u do la squadra headcanons for a reader who'z like a bratty sub fmhvbhfbhg

THANK U SM!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️💕💕 i can absolutely do that 😏

la squadra with a bratty sub partner 👅

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

risotto ✂️

depending on his mood, he'll either be unimpressed or find it cute that you think you can get away with that

his will is like steel, it's part of what makes him such a good dom. you're not getting anything out of him

his punishments are less rough, more intense. he'll dangle what you want just out of your reach for as long as it takes until you change your attitude

and even then, he won't give you his all like you know he can until you're utterly pliant. begging is useless, you have to show him just how sorry you are and how willing you are to be obedient

prosciutto 🚬

being a brat to PROSCIUTTO???? GOOD LUCK

he does not tolerate it. he's harsh with brats and he'll put you through your paces. don't even dream of cumming until you know your place

he can't deny that he likes the challenge tho. he's gonna enjoy wiping that smug grin off your face

backtalk will result with his cock in your mouth. since you've decided to be bad, you're making him cum first.

pesci 🎣

if pesci's domming you (and the two of you don't go super hard on d/s stuff anyway), that means he's built up his confidence in your relationship

built up confidence means he's not gonna take your attitude so easily

he's still rather gentle, but firm. he knows you want him and you're not getting him until you're good

and it does get him goin to know just how much you want him. so what are you willing to do for it? beg him genuinely and he won't deny you, but he'll start slow. you'll have to be nice if you want him to pick up the pace

formaggio 🧀

he finds it charming, but that doesn't mean he's gonna just give into you. he's the one in charge here

he'll be a brat right back and tease you to high hell, with his words and his touch

his preferred method of shutting you up is getting you moaning, but he won't let you cum until you're good. he'll string you along until the only thing you can say is his name

even once you've changed your attitude, he'll still tease you while he fucks you, just to drive the point home. mm, see? not so hard to be good for me, is it?

illuso ✨

OH HONEY YOU'RE IN FOR IT. illuso is patient, he'll tie you up and edge you for hours if that's what it takes, and he's going to let you know just how much he's enjoying every second of it

he'll pleasure himself while you watch. you haven't been good enough for him to grace you with touching him

you're not getting a damn thing out of him until you're practically sobbing for him to touch you. you're gonna have to tell him exactly what you want and beg prettily enough for it, he wants to hear how much your attitude has done a 180 just so he'll fuck you

he's a big hypocrite because on the rare occasion he subs he's the biggest brat in the world. remind him of that, and you've added another hour onto your punishment

melone 🍈

he thinks it's cute. it'll be a fun game for him to see just what it takes to get you to behave

he gets creative with it, doesn't jump right to harsh punishment. he'll draw everything out and tease you in all the ways he knows will drive you crazy. he isn't rattled by your backtalk and will give as good as he gets

he likes to experiment, discover things about your body that maybe even you didn't know. he has very precise control and will make things slow and gentle, then lightning fast and sharp, and back again, just to see what makes you crumble and beg

if his playing around makes you cum before you behave for him, he won't touch you until you've made him cum three times over. you ain't gettin out of it that easily

ghiaccio ❄️

ghiaccio deals with your brattiness by fucking it out of you. he doesn't have the patience for teasing, he finds this the most efficient way to drive the lesson home and he's rough

he might start by fucking your face, but he really wants to see you shut up by trying to catch your breath while he rails you into next week

you want him to touch you so bad? he'll give and give and give until you've cum five times and you're an utter wreck. you don't have the mind to be a brat when you're screaming his name and just trying to take all the stimulation

he'll also be mouthing off to you the whole time

sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦

OHO. OHOHO. ARE THEY EVER GONNA HAVE FUN MAKING YOU CRUMBLE

you never know what to expect from them but it's always going to end up with you barely able to speak, much less stand. they'll fuck you so hard you'll be feeling it next week

gelato may learn some patience just to tease you until you're falling apart in their hands and he'll let you know it, you're getting the dirty talk of all time with him

sorbet is gelato's steadying force while they both work together to trash that attitude of yours. sorbet won't give in for anything, he's having way too much fun showing you what backtalk gets you. he thinks your attempts to rile him up are cute, because guaranteed, it's never gonna happen.

you'll have to beg and beg and beg, and they'll start out so unbearably slow you'll be wailing for them. then they'll fuck you every which way until you can't tell up from down

[astrojoong]

Seonghwa’s Birth Chart

☉ sun in ♈︎ aries  

aries is the child of the zodiac so honestly its no surprise that this is his first life

he’s just so full of wonder and excitement its truly lovely to see

so excited about learning and exploring the world around him

second decanate so his subruler is the sun

aries with a touch of leo flair

the sun subruler adds in just a touch more dignity and pride to aries

reigns in a bit more of aries’ impulsiveness and recklessness 

instead it adds to his hunger to succeed

it also really brings out his showmanship and ability to perform

when he performs he is able to show both raw aggression and passion while also maintaining poise and grace

holds an intense drive which can sometimes be to his own detriment 

has the potential to push himself too hard, and put too much pressure on himself

can have little to no patience or attention span, needs things to be constantly moving and changing, with new challenges arising or else he’ll become bored and dissatisfied 

☽ moon in ♋︎ cancer

(ayyy i have a cancer moon too) 

basically... a whole Mom

ok so the moon is at home in cancer

she’s right where she wants to be so that just means that she is That much more powerful

cancer is a feminine sign and she adds a very soft dimension to his aries sun

cancer is the middle child of the water signs, which means it can either take on a more parental role or a more childlike role-it has the versatility that the youngest and eldest signs lack (same goes for all middle signs)

in Hwa you can definitely see that its taken on the parental role

he is very in touch with his feelings and the feelings of those around him

super intuitive and really just a whole ass caretaker

so incredibly loyal and sensitive and protective

on the flip side this may also make him prone to nagging if he’s not careful, and it likes to team up with his aries sun and make him WAY too hard on himself

can be Incredibly self critical and have the potential to get stuck in ‘moods’ which can bring down everyone else around them (there are actually four fucking cancer moons in ateez idk how they survive if one- or god forbid- multiple of them get moody, my dad and I are both cancer moons and we engage in something I like to call vibe warfare in which we accidentally throw off the Entire balance of the household if one of us is feeling moderately shitty or In Our Feels)

☿ mercury in ♈︎ aries

mercury is pretty happy in aries so theres a lot of benefits to this placement

a wonderful conversationalist

there's that underlying fierceness that aries brings

witty, outspoken, and very original

very jovial in his speech, good at joking around

also very good at arguing.

watch tf if you get on his bad side he can go OFF

very lucky person

normally doesn’t put a Whole lot of thought or planning into decisions but they usually just work out for him

♀ venus in ♒︎ aquarius

maybe not the best at expressing love

I think his cancer moon is a bit at odds with this placement, he feels  all these emotions and can seem like he’s great at expressing them, but he’s really only showing surface emotions

I think he is very good at hiding his true feelings, even if he doesn’t mean to, he keeps certain things very close to his chest

very magnanimous, a great socialite  

personal freedom is very important

people with this sign are a little notorious for not wanting to be tied down, maybe having some commitment issues, we haven’t seen Hwa in a relationship so who knows

did I say freedom was important because freedom is Super important

really is able to satisfy his urges to travel and experience exciting new cultures and situations through his career. He honestly seems super well suited for the industry.

♂ mars in ♈︎ aries

ok mars is at home in aries so you know shit is abt to get INTENSE

much like how his cancer moon makes all his feelings super strong

this is all abt aggression 

essentially if Win by Ateez was a placement

an absolute force of nature

definitely some major self confidence coming through here

very courageous and honest, but potentially a little blunt, especially if he’s worked up

that's when he starts to lose his filter a bit

the good thing is, he doesn’t seem to let his anger build up or fester, he deals with it when it happens

this is also the ✨sexy✨ sign so lets just say he is very Active and... depending on where his houses lie, it could definitely point to him being more assertive in the bedroom. 

♃ jupiter in ♓︎ pisces

Jupiter is essentially the planet that tells you what you should do with your life

I am not surprised he’s in music 

pisces is like Known as the soulful, artistic sign, so the fact that he found his way into a career where he can play to his aries need for passion and power while also expressing himself and his emotions in a creative fashion, and in a way to help others? fucking incredible. 

He has a healing ability to him

Just being around him makes others more at peace

Very interested in/talented in emotional healing

♄ saturn in ♈︎ aries

jfc final aries 

its like his chart is just Oops! All Aries

if Jupiter is the planet of good luck, saturn is the planet of bad luck

saturn is what stands in the way

its not too bad though

it just means that he will have a lot of obstacles that he must continuously fight against in his journey to success

but good news! while it may seem like they’re never-ending, the difficulties begin to let up as he gets older and gains more experience

saturn in aries means he’s ambitious and determined

it may place these obstacles in front of him, but it also gives him the strength to persevere 

♅ uranus in ♒︎ aquarius

ok from here on out, up until chiron, its more generational so I’ll touch on uranus, neptune and pluto in my overall ateez analysis since they all share those signs

♆ neptune in ♒︎ aquarius

♇ pluto in ♐︎ sagittarius

⚷ chiron in ♏︎ scorpio

chiron tells us what our biggest wound is

Seonghwa’s has to do with his self worth and emotions

scorpio is a very intense sign, it doesn’t half ass anything, pain or pleasure

he will go through or will have already gone through something that will be catastrophic to who he is as a person. 

it will/has cause(d) a great deal of emotional pain 

in his life he has to learn how to love and accept himself, how to control his emotions and how to make peace. 

the lesson that must be learned is one of renewal and transformation, of endings and beginnings

�� lilith in ♎︎ libra

lilith is meant to represent our innermost psyche

primal urges and base desires

it also shows our fears

Seonghwa’s deepest fear seems to be one of rejection

he needs to find a balance in his life, learn healthy boundaries

he’s very susceptible to other’s opinions and influences 

I feel like it may not be as much of a problem because he has so many other fortunate signs to counteract this but it could be an issue if he isn’t careful

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Get Down pt 1

oops it’s mildly horny. I guess I’m in a mood?

Based on the song “Get Down” from the hit musical SIX

---

Geralt’s eyes went wide when he entered the throne room of the Castle de Lettenhove. He’d remembered the name vaguely; that was probably why he’d showed up at the front door in search of a contract. Now, staring down the length of the impressively decorated stone chamber, he remembered why the name was so godsdamned familiar.

He’d been listening to the same high, clear tenor introducing his best friend for nearly ten years now. He remembered the name his favorite person on the Continent used when he wanted to sound impressive or get free room and board: “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.” 

Fuck. Of course it was Jaskier’s manor house. Of course it was Jaskier’s lovely red carpet that Geralt was tracking dirt all over. Of course it was Jaskier’s father he’d have to beg for the opportunity to hunt monsters for less than sufficient coin. He kept his eyes respectively averted as he approached the throne and knelt, head bowed. 

“My Lord Pankratz,” he rumbled, “I’ve come in search of a contract or perhaps one night of hospitality in return for menial labor.”

“Well met, Sir Witcher.”

Fuck. The Witcher glanced up and somehow managed to keep his eyes from widening in shock for a second time in five minutes. “Milord Pankratz.”

Jaskier took a steadying breath as Geralt looked him over. The part-time bard was glad he’d dressed to impress today (he’d been expecting a visit from a dignitary who’d never arrived) because Geralt showing up and bowing like a knight errant when Jaskier was at his best was sheer dumb luck. “Sir Witcher,” Jaskier smirked. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“As I said before,” the Witcher murmured, “I’ve come in search of a contract, or one night of hospitality in return for menial labor.”

“That sounds like a rather practiced speech, Witcher,” Jaskier intoned seriously. He drew himself up to his full height and pulled back his shoulders, shoving out his chest like any good Lord would. Geralt thought the lot of them were posturing idiots. When Jaskier did the same thing, however, the Witcher felt oddly proud and a little reverent. He stayed kneeling far longer than he would have with any other rude nobility. “What work could you do for me that would be worth a room in my house?”

Geralt’s face was aflame and he was glad that his mutations tamped down the majority of his blush. “I could chop firewood or carry water. I can cook a little and I’m good with horses.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier made his way down the steps and walked in a slow circle around the suddenly nervous Witcher. No Lord or Viscount had ever done that to him before. Appraising him with eyes he knew had seen his every high and low. Jaskier was his best friend, after all. He knew what Geralt was capable of; what was the point of this whole charade? “I suppose we can find you a room.”

Jaskier snapped his fingers loudly and clearly and one attendant appeared on either side of him. There was a woman to his left, no older than Jaskier himself, with her head bowed respectfully. On his right side stood a middle aged man with gently greying hair, his hands clasped tightly together and resting against his lower back; he carried the air of a man who never took a step without considering its efficiency and professionalism first. 

“Matilde,” the Lord addressed the young maid. “Please fetch in Geralt’s saddle bags and bring them to the guest suite nearest my own chambers, darling. Send our gentlest stableboy to attend to the Witcher’s horse; she favors an apple or two before bed. Reyard, please measure our weary guest and have him bathed and clothed for dinner, if you would.”

“Yes, Milord,” the two servants bowed quickly and scurried off to attend to their various tasks. The valet darted forward and took Geralt by the elbow. The taller man startled and jerked away, somehow unable to break the valet’s dedicated grip.

“Right this way, Sir Witcher.”

“Wha-?” Geralt glanced up at Jaskier, whose chest was still puffed forward in a subtle show of power. The emerald green velvet of his tight, tailored doublet enhanced the brown of his hair and the blue of his eyes, making him appear even more youthful and angelic than usual. His trousers were impeccably clean and his boots were shiny and black; authority oozed from Jaskier like syrup from a tree. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat for a second time and he gulped. He found himself even more lost for words than usual in the not-bard’s presence.

“In exchange for your room and board tonight,” Jaskier explained, “You shall be my guest at dinner and humor me with several interesting anecdotes in the sitting room after our meal.”

“Y-Yes, Milord,” Geralt agreed. The valet ushered him away, then, leading him down several twisting halls to the young Lord’s private bathing pool. 

“Milord Pankratz has requested that you bathe and wash your hair. He’ll send another servant down shortly to dress and groom you properly for dinner.”

“Uhm...thank you?” Geralt bowed. The valet shook his head and disappeared from the bathing chambers. The Witcher, exhausted and confused beyond all measure, did the only logical thing left to do: he undressed and slipped into the warm, steamy pool of water. He might as well enjoy what little bits of luxury he could.

---

As soon as Geralt was far enough away, Jaskier released a long, slow breath and rested his hands against his knees. “Holy shit.”

“Milord?”

“Reynard! Thank you for doing me this favor.”

“Is this the Witcher you’ve spoken of all these years?”

“Indeed it is,” Jaskier nodded, glancing off in the direction of the baths. “Geralt of Rivia himself has graced my humble halls at last.”

“He seemed confused, Milord.”

“I haven’t introduced myself as Julian Alfred Pankratz for years,” the young Lord chuckled. “He probably forgot that I was called anything but Jaskier.”

“And your intentions?”

“Oh, I fully intend to seduce him, Reynard. Do not mistake my purposes there.”

“Of course,” the valet smirked. He’d practically raised the young nobleman, after all. They were each other’s confidants and friends as much as they were master and servant; Jaskier said goodbye to him privately every time he left to join Geralt on the Path, thanking the older man for all his years of friendship and advice. “Shall we execute the plan, then?”

“As much of it as we still can,” the Lord smiled. “That would be lovely. You’re a dear.”

“I expect that this evening will be more than entertaining, Milord.”

“Knowing Geralt, it certainty will be.”

[jhoudiey]

You like to play God, don't you?

Wrote this fic a while back, #ChickenChallenge starts trending on magicam again, and Yoru ends up trying to distract herself with her friends. Ends up watching Jade as he builds a terrarium, and ends with dumb and dumber fluff. 1825 words.

hey you’re that chicken girl from NRC right?

Yoru stared at her phone. Idia had finally updated it so that she was able to use it freely, her hands no longer an issue on the touch screen. She normally didn’t pay attention to notifications, but had texted him earlier that night hoping to hang out, instead her magicam had exploded, messages popping in so quickly she could hardly keep track

show me ur feet

where else do you have feathers?

check it out, I’ve got weird feet too!

Whoa! Is that from a magic accident!? Crazy!!

omg ur disgustingggggg!!!!

you fucking freak!

ahahahaha no way your real. You’re like a chicken!!!!

can you send me a pic of your chicken feet? They’re so freaky I wanna show my friend!

you ever jerked a guy off with those? Do you want to?

She stared at the picture of the penis in her inbox with disgust, is this how normal people communicated? Why were all these people she didn’t know suddenly messaging her anyway? It was already past midnight, didn’t they have anything better to do? She exited her messages and found there had been a series of throwback posts from NRC Halloween, #ChickenChallenge was trending again. She sighed and closed the application, having lived through that once had been enough, she had no desire to repeat the experience online.

Idia still hadn’t texted her back, but her mood was soured. Focusing on her alchemy work wasn’t enough to distract her from the constant buzzing coming from her phone.

“Fuck this” she grumbled, throwing her phone onto her bed before launching herself out the window. She didn’t need to wait for a text back from Idia, she’d just show up, the same as always.

As luck would have it, however, Idia was busy. He wasn’t gaming as was usual for him at this time of night, but was in the middle of a video chat with Vita, making it much more awkward to sit in the corner of his room quietly. She didn’t want to know what they talked about when it was just the two of them. She wandered back out of the dorm, hesitating in the Hall of Mirrors. It was late, she should just go home...but… he might still be awake too.

She knocked on the door tucked down the halls of Octavinelle dorm, silently cursing herself for going down there in the first place.

“Come in”

Jade welcomed her into his and Floyd’s shared room, a small smile painted on his lips. He was in his pajamas, though clearly invested in building a terrarium, plants and stones laid out carefully on his desk in front of him. She spied Floyd, his pajama shirt discarded on the floor beside his bed, fast asleep curled around one of his pillows facing away from them. He’d likely turned away from the lamp light Jade had kept on as he worked.

“Ahh, I guess it is too late, I’ll go” Yoru mumbled looking between them, she’d never gotten along comfortably with Jade.

“You can stay. I don’t mind, Yoru-san,” He held his hand out to offer Floyd's desk chair to her “Would you care to join me? Clearly something is the matter or you wouldn’t have come by so late. I do know how much you loathe to be here.”

She hesitated.

If she stayed, she’d have to deal with his casual cruelty and observant eye, if she left she may have to deal with another dozen messages about how she was a disgusting bird freak who really should be embarrassed to look like that, not that she needed the reminder. She sighed and crawled onto the chair, her legs tucked in against her body, arms clutched around them as she watched Jade work. He was meticulous.

Like everything he did, every movement was measured, everything planned well in advance to come together just as he imagined it.

“Is this what you normally spend your weekends doing?” She asked, her eyes following his graceful hands as he arranged some moss.

“Hmm, it is something I am quite fond of, yes.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be better to keep a garden or something? What’s the point of this?”

He laughed quietly.

“This is what humans call ‘a hobby’ I believe. The point is to enjoy it, Yoru-san.”

She rested her chin on her knees, her eyes drifting across his desk to the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor near Floyd's bed. She felt Jade watching her and turned her gaze back to him.

“But why do you enjoy it? What’s so good about building a tiny garden in a jar?”

“You mean what’s so entertaining about creating and controlling an entire ecosystem one can hold in their hands? I wonder…”

She snorted.

“Ahhh, so it’s just something else you can manipulate. Makes sense.” She grinned at him, his hands expertly arranging rocks along the bottom of the jar.

“How cruel, Yoru-san, to suggest my innocent hobby is anything but… I can’t deny the implications though.”

“Hah, so you admit it then. No wonder you like it...” She chuckled, her eyes wandering once again to Floyds sleeping form, his back slowly rising and falling with his breaths.

“Admit it? No, I simply enjoy when certain things go as planned” He smirked at her. He’d caught her wandering eyes twice now, though she was trying to hide it. She hadn’t come here to see him, after all. She faced him again, not wanting to meet his eyes instead focusing on his hands.

“Do you ever add bones?”

“Oya? What is it you’re trying to imply, Yoru-san?”

“...They’d be good for the soil. I can bring you some, if you need.”

“I suppose that would raise fewer questions than gathering them myself...Thank you.”

“Mmmm” She nodded with her head still on her knees, content to watch him in silence. He was building a whole planet before her, a God playing with nature to whatever suited his whim. A rock here, moss there… no wait… over there instead. It was fascinating and tedious at the same time. His hands weaved patterns from nothing, a garden blossoming from his fingertips. She felt her attention slipping and closed her eyes, the soft tinkling of his tools being drowned out by the slow tide of Floyd's slumbering breath. She tilted her head towards him, her own breathing slowing to match his like the sea lazily lapping at the shore.

“Why don’t you lie down with him, Yoru-san? I don’t mind” Jades voice cut through her dreamy haze, jolting her upright.

“What? No. Huh?” She stuttered, horrified that Jade had somehow known the comfort she felt in that moment. “I’ve gotta go, I must have fallen asleep. Bye Jade” She hurried to leave, bumping into Floyd's desk in her haste. The precariously stacked books toppled over and fell to the floor, making an awful racket in the near silent bedroom.

“Oh shit, sorry!’ She whispered in a panic, hoping she hadn’t woken Floyd. She scooped to pick the books up, her wings threatening to topple the chair she had been sitting in just moments ago. Jade laughed as he watched her struggle.

“Fufufu, Yoru-san. You seem quite flustered, did something I say upset you? Perhaps my suggestion to sleep with Floyd-”

“No!” She yammered quickly. Too quickly. “No, I’m just tired. I have to go!” She pushed the books back onto the desk haphazardly and turned to leave, hoping that Jade hadn’t caught sight of her face, red as it was sure to be. How could he have known what she was thinking?

“Hmmpppfff” Floyd whined, wrapping his arms around her waist, his face buried in feathers. “You’re too loud, Fugu-chan, be more quiet”

Jade smirked at the pair of them as Yoru struggled to free herself from his grasp. Floyd whined into her back, dragging her into his bed so he could go back to sleep.

“Yoru-san, it’s better if you don’t fight him, he can be quite insistent when he wants something” She knew he was right. To get free she’d have to peel him off of her, and with how tightly he held her it would be hard, Floyd really was too damn strong. She sighed and stopped resisting, feeling her feet leave the floor as he flipped her over him to settle her between his body and the wall.

He murmured wordlessly as he shifted around her wings, careful not to pull out any feathers accidentally. He settled between them, his head resting slightly above hers, his face nestled in her hair, body pressed tightly against hers. She was glad Jade couldn’t see her anymore, she could feel him watching them still, but with their faces turned away from him he wouldn’t be able to read her expression. She felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest, she was sure Floyd must have felt it too, though if he did he made no mention of it. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she had come over, all she had wanted was to chat a bit, to forget about the people on magicam trying to ruin her night. She had to admit though… This was nice too. Ever since spring break they’d been more comfortable with each other physically, Floyd often clinging to her whenever he slept over, but so far that hadn’t left the confines of her bedroom. No one ever saw how often she clung back, she’d made sure to disengage from his grasp before he woke whenever she found herself too near him. It was much too embarrassing to be found like this, her face burning again knowing that Jade was probably enjoying himself immensely, proven right yet again.

The lamp clicked off, Jade finally retiring, Yoru felt herself finally relaxing. Her body jolted as tension left her, and she laid her arms across Floyd's, drawing lazy circles on the backs of his hands with her fingers. He sighed into her hair and pressed himself against her a little tighter at her touch, fast asleep once more. Yoru closed her eyes knowing it wasn’t safe to fall asleep where she lay, she had to get up and go home or she’d never hear the end of it. 5 more minutes then you have to go home she told herself, but it really was very comfortable, laying with Floyd like this.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Euuuggggghhhh Jaaaaade, turn your alarm offffff” Floyd complained loudly. He was close...too close. Yoru’s eyes snapped open with a start, she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

“Ahhh, I must have forgotten to turn it off. My apologies, you two fufufu”

“Mmmmm~ good morning, Fugu-chan” Floyd murmured as he tightened himself around her once more. She felt him smile as he nuzzled his face into the nape of her neck, her face blazed red once more.

[dearjamesxo]

[drabble under cut]

They’re on their way to wish Bea luck when it happens.

Billy, Spike and Jessie trudge against the midafternoon crowd, Spike boasting a story from his childhood – no doubt exaggerated to the moon to impress Jessie. Billy listens with half an ear, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes on the ground. He doesn’t react when someone bumps into him.

“He’s in a mood,” Jessie teases to Spike when Spike tries, for the fourth time, to include Billy in the conversation.

Spike snorts, “I can see that. Which is why I’m trying to cheer ‘im up.” He sidles into Billy’s space, claps a friendly hand on Billy’s shoulder and asks, “Come on, mate, who shoved that monumental stick up your arse?”

Billy’s jaw twitches. He tucks his chin into his chest and hunches further into himself, hoping to relay how much he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Is it the whole we’re not good enough tripe?” Spike questions, rolling a hand in the air to encompass the tripe he’s referring to. “Because the way I look at it, we got lucky. Who wants to go to a stuffy old ball anyway?” Spike’s tone suggests he does, but Billy refrains from pointing it out, “Let Bea and the good doctor go and deal with all that crap, while we—” He leans back and grins across the breadth of Billy’s shoulders, winks at Jessie, “—get to enjoy ourselves!”

Billy doesn’t respond, simply shrugs and keeps his pace, his shoulder colliding with another man’s. Again, Billy doesn’t even seem to register that the man told him to, watch where yer goin’!

Yes, Billy’s in a mood, definitely, but it doesn’t have anything to do with Bea or Watson or the ball Spike mentioned. In fact, it was Billy’s idea to go find Bea before Watson collects her at Mrs. Smith’s shoppe.

As usual, Watson’s swanning Bea off to perform for another investigation, some undercover business that apparently, “Only Beatrice has the maturity and patience to pull off,” thanks for the confidence, “the rest of you will merely serve to attract unwanted attention.” As if Bea done up like a gateau de savoie won't attract attention. Although Bea has learned to carry herself less woodenly than she did, she isn't exactly graceful when laced into a gown. Jessie's the better candidate, equipped with supernatural powers to boot, but Watson's mind was made up. Besides, Billy's noticed that he and Bea have some sort of connection; they seem to get each other in a way that leaves everyone else behind.

Howbeit, Watson’s condescending remark isn’t what gets Billy’s dander up either. That honor goes to His Royal Highness, Prince I-Have-To-Escort-Helena. Not that Billy wants to go through the trouble of pampering and primping for a ball he’s sure he’ll hate every minute of. But Leo could’ve at least had the courtesy to pretend he was regretful, since he already has so much experience pretending to be something he isn’t.

Billy scowls at his shoes, kicks a pebble harder than he means to. He ducks his head and picks up his pace when he hears a strangled yelp and sees, from the corner of his eye, a man clasp his ankle and hop on one foot.

Oops.

It’s then that the short hairs at the back of his neck rise, his scalp tingles, the sensation of being watched shivering up Billy's spine. He lifts his chin and, immediately, his gaze is drawn to the end of the street.

“Isn’t that—?” Jessie starts, tugging Billy’s wrist to get his attention. Then, much quieter, under her breath, “Oh,” as if she's figured something out.

Billy yanks his wrist out of her light grasp and squares his shoulders, ignorant of the utterly baffled Spike sends Jessie behind his back. “Wait here,” he gruffs and stalks toward the end of the street. Or more precisely, toward who lingers there.

“We’ll meet you!” Spike calls after him and wraps an arm around Jessie. She tries to resist, head craning, but Spike guides her down the cross street in the direction of Mrs. Smith’s shoppe.

Like a wolf preparing to lunge, Billy stalks toward Leo, expression hard and fists clenched. Leo returns the sentiment with a rigid, neutral set to his features, stare unwavering. Billy inwardly chastises himself for the heat of desire that rushes through him upon seeing Leo. No matter how pissed he is with the prince, Billy can never deny how attractive Leo is like this, all lofty courage and attitude, golden against the smutty backdrop of the Marylebone rookery. God, Billy wants to strip Leo of his finery, fuck him until he remembers who he really belongs to. And it isn't, Billy thinks in a possessive growl, Helena.

Theirs will never be a public romance, a reality Billy understood from the start, only it didn't feel so impossibly cruel until the moment Leo casually mentioned he would be attending the very ball Bea and Watson would with Helena on his arm. As if he wasn't lounging between Billy's legs, his back to Billy's chest, his fingers laced with Billy's. It never ceases to amaze Billy how terrible Leo is at reading a room because Jessie's discomfited expression alone should've been a clue that something wasn't right. Even so, Billy kept his mouth shut because he's supposed to be fine with it, isn't he?

Easier said than done, Billy knows now.

As much as they - Billy and Leo and Leo and Helena - have an agreement, it still cuts deep when Billy has to step aside so Leo can appease his mother by flaunting the person society deems Leo's best match.

“What’re you doing here?” Billy demands to know the instant he’s within earshot.

Leo flinches slightly, then musters the confidence to say, “I’d like to have a word.”

“With your side piece?” Billy mocks disbelief, “I’ll bet.”

“Billy, please, if you would just listen—”

Billy’s in front of Leo now, standing at the closeness he’s grown accustomed to since he and Leo became he and Leo. He didn’t mean to narrow the distance so quickly, wants to hold on to the anger because it’s easier, except that to put himself anywhere else in Leo’s orbit feels intrinsically wrong.

“Better make it quick, your highness,” Billy sneers, “I’m sure your lady doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“For goodness’ sake,” Leo erupts through gritted teeth, though his tone maintains a respectable volume as propriety demands, “I’m not going.”

This stops Billy's mounting rage in its tracks, all at once replaced with a confusion that shows itself on Billy's face. A simple “What?” tumbles out of his mouth as he frowns at Leo as if Leo told him the sky is actually green.

“I’m not going.” Leo repeats.

Billy grabs Leo by the upper arm and drags him out of the middle of the crowded street, into a narrow lane that separates the butcher’s and an Indian-owned tearoom. Leo doesn’t resist, allows Billy to manhandle him, and stops moving altogether when Billy pushes him against the brick wall just inside the lane. Suddenly, Billy’s flooded with concern.

“What happened?” Because it has to be something awful if Leo can shirk his responsibility for the evening. “Is Helena alright?”

Leo’s brows furrow, eyes flickering between Billy’s, down to hover on Billy’s mouth before they slip to the ground where they remain. He huffs a humorless laugh, “Helena’s fine, you massive boor.” and slumps against the wall Billy has him pinned to by the shoulders, defeat obvious in his posture.

“Then what—?”

“It’s you!”

Well, that can't be right. Leo's never missed an engagement his mother's insisted upon for Billy in the weeks they've been, well, them. Billy has to make sure, “Me?”

Gesturing helplessly with one hand, Leo explains, “How can I go and act as though I care about anything my mother’s contemporaries have to say when all I can think about is you, here, upset with me?” A tiny smile curls Billy’s mouth, “I love you, you idiot.” Leo says as though he's said it a thousand times - he hasn't, this is the first and Leo doesn't appear to notice he's shared such an important declaration in the middle of a rant. Billy wants to say it back all the more for it. “Helena made a fuss when I told her, practically pushed me out the window so I would come find you.”

Floating on a wave of giddiness, assuaged by Leo's words, Billy remembers how much he likes Helena. Helena who has her Henrik in Münster and swore not to intrude on Leo's relationship with Billy as long as Leo issues her the same respect.

Billy leans in and places his forehead against Leo’s, hands sliding from Leo’s shoulders to cradle Leo’s jaw, resting the pads of his thumbs gently at the corners of Leo’s mouth. A small chuckle escapes him, unable to contain it, and Billy shuffles forward to press their bodies flush from waist to hips to knees, fondly brushes the tips of their noses, then tilts his head and captures Leo’s lips in a sweet yet hot-hungry kiss.

When he pulls back, he wonders, “Or maybe it’s Helena I should be thanking?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, smiling playfully, “Should I be kissing her instead?”

Eyes in grumpy, feline slits, Leo protests, “Don’t you dare.”

“Mm, you’re right, she’s really not my type.”

Abruptly, Billy untangles himself from Leo, bends enough to grab Leo by the back of the thighs and lifts. Leo cries out shrilly, startled, the action forcing his legs to wrap around Billy’s waist and his arms to lock around Billy’s neck. Cackling, Billy pins Leo with his body, his fingers kneading the sensitive flesh just below Leo’s arse, eliciting a moan that he swallows greedily.

“Is this really the appropriate time?” Leo pants, throwing his head back when Billy grinds their hips together, making them both groan.

“Not even a little bit.”

As Billy leans in for another kiss, Leo interrupts by putting two fingers to Billy's lips. “Perhaps,” He says, voice pitched suggestively, “We should take this elsewhere,” Here, Leo kitten licks Billy’s parted lips, darts his tongue into Billy's mouth quickly, moves on to dot Billy’s jaw with a trail of dry kisses. He reaches Billy's ear and continues in a whisper, “Somewhere you can spread me open,” A nip to Billy’s earlobe, “And show me what happens when I upset you?”

Billy's cock twitches in interest. He takes in Leo’s pink cheeks and glassy, blown eyes, decides, “Sounds like a marvelous idea.”

In a swift sequence of motions, Billy drops Leo to his feet, carefully repositions him, crouches, and then hoists Leo over his shoulder. Spike was right, Billy grins, patting the swell of one of Leo's arse cheeks in victory, who wants to go to a stuffy old ball, anyway?

[jaskiersvalley]

I’ve been sitting on the prompt for a while, and I’ve been wanting to find the right blog for this prompt, not saying that others aren’t good, but I like your writing style a lot!!! I love reading your writing! The prompt is if Jaskier is framed for a crime he didn’t do and is suppose to be, well, punished for it the next or next few days, and geralt saving him just in time??? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to!! I just thought it would be interesting!

This whole fandom is a massive pool of talent! I would be more than happy to help you find writers who produce incredible content if you would like :D But on the topic of you prompt, that is a very exciting one. Hopefully I can do it justice for you.

For once in his life, Jaskier had done nothing wrong. Well, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time but he hadn’t actually committed the crimes he was accused of which was thievery. The countess of the court had been adamant that her rather lovely brooch had been pilfered by light fingers and she had accused the visiting bard because of course everyone else in her court was too loyal to do something as beastly as lift if from her dress. Oh course the bard in question was Jaskier. The only problem was,he hadn’t actually stolen the brooch. For one, it was a fucking ugly thing. And two, he had better things to use his fingers for than stealing brooches for petty cash. However, no amount of arguing and sweet talk could dissuade anyone.

“I demand punishment!” The countess had cried. “He’s publicly humiliated and hurt me, his fate shall be the same. To the pillory in the town square with him for two days. And ten lashes, one for each floren the brooch was worth.”

Not a good outcome at all. Jaskier tried to get out of it, twisted this way and that but he was surrounded by guards and rather unarmed. If only Geralt could hurry up with his hunting of some beast and step in, he had a habit of making things resolve with or without a bit of blood spilling.

Unfortunately, luck was not on Jaskier’s side. He was thrown in a cell overnight with the promise of beginning his penance in the morning when the town was bustling with the morning market. Sure enough, come morning, he was dragged through the town, forcibly stripped, doublet and chemise thrown into the dust, making him mourn for their until then relatively pristine state. Fighting wasn’t going to gain him any favours and Jaskier let himself be shoved into the pillory and secured. To say it was humiliating was an understatement. Then the idiot in charge of doling out his punishment started up.

“Gather up! Gather round!” He was yelling, trailing the tip of the whip in the dirt behind him. “We have a light fingered bard to teach a lesson to. In our fine town, his fingers should only be light on his lute, not other’s finery.”

A titter went up in the crowd Jaskier could see gathering if he craned his neck.

“Our beloved countess has decided to go easy on him, first offence and all. So only ten lashes and two days. Make sure you get a good look at him in those two days. Commit to memory, what an inept fool looks like.”

Jaskier was not an inept fool, thank you very much. Just rather unlucky. And innocent at that. But yelling about that only caused the crowd to boo him, someone even threw a rotten tomato in his direction. Its splatter caught him across the face.

“Shall we see if he sings as pretty for a whip as he does for food, board, payment and a brooch? Because obviously our hospitality wasn’t enough for him!”

A few people started up a chant that swept through crowd.

“Punish him! Punish him! Punish him!”

The executor strutted out of Jaskier’s sight but he could still track his footsteps. It was all a great show, the bastard probably got off on the power and the attention. Jaskier really hated his kind. The crack of a showy warm-up hit made him jump and the crowd jeered. The whip hadn’t even touched him on that one but he was already flinching. Any hope of somehow, magically, getting out of this beating was rapidly diminishing and Jaskier could only grit his teeth and curse his bad luck.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar voice rumbled from behind and Jaskier wanted to turn around, fling himself at Geralt and hide behind him.

Instead, he could only yell, “Geralt, tell these fuckwits that I didn’t steal any cheap, shitty brooch.”

Familiar legs rounded the pillory and Jaskier craned his neck to look up at Geralt.

“It was a bloody ugly one and not worth much anyway. The gems were fakes.”

Pressing his mouth into a thin line, Geralt glanced behind the pillory at the man in charge.

“Let him go. We will go to the countess and clear things up once and for all.” Once again, the crowd booed and Geralt looked angry. “If you don’t, I will call back the griffin I chased off for you and he’ll bring his brood mate and offspring.”

It didn’t matter that its head was currently tied to Roach and that Jaskier was fairly certain Geralt couldn’t actually do that. Instead, he was grateful when, after a few seconds of silence, there was a click and the pillory’s top was being lifted off him.

“Well I never!” He groused, picking up his clothes and beating dust from them. “Such treatment for a famous bard. No bard, troubadour or musician will ever grace there courts again, you mark my words.”

Still grumbling away, he followed Geralt to the countess, who looked rather displeased to see him.

“What is the meaning of this?” She sneered, looking between Geralt and Jaskier. “These are my lands, my rules are to be carried out, witcher intervening or not.”

““Even if you’re punishing the innocent?” Geralt asked tersely. He was in no mood to argue or prove a point. “Maybe you should do a check under the tables where you sat and feasted while the bard you hired worked tirelessly to keep you and your guests entertained.”

When that got a laugh, Geralt shrugged and, with Jaskier in tow, walked to the banquet hall,pulling tablecloths from tables. Under the third one was a brooch. He turned to the countess.

“I believe you owe my bard an apology and compensation for tarnishing his good name, humiliating him in front of your subjects and keeping him here longer than planned. Perhaps accepting the punishment you saw fit to dole out on him?”

Immediately, the countess was blathering, apologising and trying to make amends. It was how Jaskier walked out with an addiction two pouches stuffed with payment. And even the brooch was offered to him. He took great glee in looking it over and turning his nose up at it, declaring it too cheap to actually look good with any of his outfits.

Shaking his head, Geralt led them back out to the tavern they had been staying at.

“You’re an idiot,” he declared and Jaskier only grinned.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” He nudged Geralt in the side with his elbow. “I heard you call me your bard, there’s no denying it now.”

Stopping abruptly, Geralt turned and licked Jaskier on the cheek.

“You’re right, no denying it now. I licked it, so it is mine.”

[ericsonclan]

Competition Flows Through Their Veins

Summary: AJ and Allison have a competition for who can take down the most walkers when suddenly something happens that stirs up bitter memories.

Word Count: 2035

Read on AO3:

Willy had spotted ten walkers all spread out in front of the gates. None of them seemed to be a huge threat but it was better to be safe than sorry. That’s what Clementine had always thought and it seemed that over the years people had agreed with her on that. Normally a few of them would already be out there, clearing out the walkers with Rosie in tow. But today before Clementine could send out Aasim and Omar she heard a booming voice.

“Clem!” AJ barreled forward, his knife and hatchet whacking against his hips as he moved forward. Skidding to a halt, AJ ended up kicking some dust into the air making both himself and Clementine cough.

“AJ, what’s wrong?” Clementine looked over at him with concern, giving a few sharp coughs to get the dust out of her throat.

“Nothing! I just...” AJ paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “I want to clear out the walkers by the gates with Allison. We’re gonna make it a competition.” AJ spoke proudly as he brushed a finger under his nose to stop himself from sneezing due to the dust.

“AJ…” Clementine picked up on the fact that he had heard the worry in her voice.

“We’ll be super safe! I already got Aasim and Willy to agree to give us backup if anything goes wrong,” AJ watched Clementine closely. “I’m strong.”

His words made Clementine look over at his eyes and notice the hardened determination in them.

“I know you are, kiddo. I don’t doubt that for a second,” Clementine gave a soft smile. With a deep breath she spoke once more. “Alright, but I’m taking watch with my bow just to be safe.”

“Okay,” AJ gave a short nod; he knew that if he wanted this competition he had to agree to the base rules Clementine put in place. Clementine’s smile remained and she ruffled his afro fondly. “Alright, go get set up and remember-”

“I know, I know, always aim for the head,” AJ ran off, giving a small smile back at Clementine before wandering off to find Allison and share the good news.

Soon everyone knew of this competition. Some of them were more for it like Louis and Willy who knew that AJ and Allison could handle themselves and that there were plenty of traps in the area to use if needed. Others were more cautious about the whole thing such as Prisha and Aasim who were well aware of the world’s random cruelty that it bestowed upon the living. Still, all of them knew that Allison and AJ were both too stubborn to stop the competition now. Competitiveness flowed through their veins and they were both incredibly ambitious when it came to becoming stronger.

After a couple minutes those in support roles were in position while Ruby and Omar stayed inside the dorms with the little kids. Clementine stood on the watch tower while Aasim and Willy stood outside, right by the gates.

“Good luck, Allie!” Willy leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Allison’s cheek. The romantic gesture made Allison grow flustered and she stared at her boots.

“Thanks,” Allison brushed her hand against his before giving it a small squeeze. “AJ is totally going to lose this one,”

Those words set a fire in AJ who puffed out his chest. “I’m winning and when I do, that new weapon you’re making with Willy is gonna be mine!”

“Okay,” Allison casually strolled forward, taking out her spear hammer. “But when I win and you lose you have to give Garbage a bath,”

“Ugh, why?” AJ looked over at his best friend.

“I don’t know,” Allison shrugged, “I think it would be funny.”

AJ frowned at those words and with a grumpy grumble took out his knife. “I’m winning, dummy.”

Allison laughed at that. “Keep telling yourself that,” Her eyes scanned the area and she spotted the first walker she wanted to take out. Dashing forward without warning, Allison swung her spear hammer. Using the spear end to hook into the jaw, she dragged the walker along and slammed it into a tree with a sharp lower branch. The branch burrowed into the walker’s gut, causing blood and intestines to coat it. Allison quickly spun her weapon, switching to the hammer side, and with a deadly blow caved in the walker’s head. Brain matter began to spill out of its misshapen head as its body went limp. “That’s one.”

AJ huffed and mockingly said her words under his breath before he spotted his first walker. Jogging forward, he stayed a few paces away in order to properly take this walker down. Waiting for the ideal moment, AJ kicked out the walker’s leg then proceeded to plunge his knife deep within its eye socket. The eye popped from the attack, spurting its juice onto AJ’s face.

“Bleh,” AJ spat a couple times to make sure none got in his mouth. Allison’s quiet laughter made his eyes shoot over to see her smug, competitive smile. “Whatever, stupidhead. Watch this,” AJ unclipped his hatchet and with a mighty throw sliced through the skullcap of a walker. With a thunk the hatchet embedded itself into the tree just as the walker it had sliced through fell down, lifeless.

“Not bad,” Allison swung her weapon, her aim missing the mark slightly due to the sudden swaying movement of the walker. The spear ended up hooking underneath its cheekbone too firmly and with a strong tug Allison tore off its lower jaw. Flicking it onto the ground, Allison unsheathed her knife and jabbed it into the walker’s head before it had a chance to move any closer.

Allison’s move made AJ’s eyes shine with awe. That was so cool. He definitely wanted to beat her in this competition now. Plus with her compliment on his last move he  knew he had what it took to win.

“Wooo! Go, Allie! You’ve got this!” Willy cheered on his girlfriend then proceeded to cheer for his best friend as well. “Go, AJ!”

“Yeah, go AJ! Show those stinky deadheads who's boss!” Louis called out from the gate and watched as AJ took down another walker by plunging his blade right through the back of its skull before retrieving his hatchet. AJ turned around and saw Louis who gave a big thumbs up and smile. Louis continued to watch AJ before glancing over at Violet who seemed a bit tense. “Gonna cheer too, Vi?”

“Maybe,” Violet’s eyes watched Allison from behind her glasses. Her hands were wrapped tightly around her arms as she crossed them.

“Loosen up, Vi,” Louis hooked his arm around her shoulder. “Everything will be okay. First sign of danger and the smelly patrol will have all of us to deal with.”

Violet gave a small nod. Louis studied her expression for a moment and decided to try and lighten up the mood.

“Or is it that you think Allison can’t take the heat?”

“Heh, she’s gonna win. Allison is gonna kick AJ’s ass.” Violet smirked over at her best friend who returned it in kind.

Hear, hear,” Prisha smiled as she walked forward. Immediately Violet’s tension seemed to dissipate if only a bit as she let her arms fall to her side before taking Prisha’s hand in hers. Louis could see the same concern that Violet had in Prisha’s eyes as well. He looked over at Clementine. After seeing that she was tense too, Louis slipped away just as Prisha and Violet started to cheer Allison on.

Allison was in the midst of bludgeoning a walker’s head but for some reason it was still moving. So when it opened its mouth Allison speared it through to make sure she got to the brain then tossed it to the ground. Her score was tied with AJ’s now.

“Are you doing okay?” Louis slowly climbed up the ladder to the watchtower and noticed Clementine glance back his way. Immediately her eyes softened and the two shared a quick kiss.

“What are you doing up here, Lou?” Clementine smiled as Louis’ fingers intertwined with hers for a moment.

“I thought it had to be lonely being up on this watchtower alone. So I thought I’d grace you with my company,” Louis leaned forward and stole a soft kiss. “And kisses,” The two shared a smile before Clementine remembered the competition and looked over at AJ. AJ grinned confidently as his hatchet sliced a walker’s face nearly in half.

“Look at our little man go,” Louis hugged Clementine’s shoulders for a few moments.

“Yeah, he’s really grown up,” Clementine held on to Louis’ arms for a couple of seconds, letting her bow rest by her leg. “Allison is no pushover though,” She nodded over at Allison who dodged and sliced through a walker’s fingers before spearing it through the head and tossing it onto a rock.

“Yeah, it's really close. Only two walkers left,” Louis commented and the two continued to watch on in somewhat silence.

Only two left. Allison knew she had to get both to win. One was over by that weird-looking tree that Willy had climbed in order to impress her on their first date together. A soft smile pulled on Allison’s lips at the memory before she refocused to find the other walker. Once her eyes caught sight of the walker’s location, however, she felt her heart tighten.

It was wandering over towards the old car that had crashed right outside the gates. Within the car was a small garden of pink flowers. Flowers that Allison had placed in memory of Renata. Flowers that she had kept safe ever since she planted them after Renata’s passing. Allison gritted her teeth, her anger and sorrow mixing within her gut as she sprinted forward.

“You get the fuck away from that!” Allison’s sudden shouting drew everyone’s attention as the walker mindlessly grasped at a pink flower. Allison dug her fingers into its soft, rotten back flesh and spun it around. Taking out her knife, Allison began to blindly stab the walker out of pure rage as tears stung her eyes. The walker groaned, its milky white eyes staring blankly into Allison’s as it continued to try and consume her flesh and blood. All of her attacks were in spots that wouldn’t put it down.

“Allison!” Willy notched an arrow and aimed at the walker while Prisha and Violet pulled open the gate door to go and help. The world around Allison seemed to fade away as she lived in her emotions, watching as the walker’s teeth threatened to bite her until she finally plunged her knife into its skull. The walker fell down to the ground, limp, any sign of life drained from its eyes. Allison stared at the walker before spitting onto it. She remained frozen in her spot until she felt arms wrap around her.

“Allie! You’re safe!” Willy held onto her tightly and pulled her further into the hug. Allison felt her throat burn as she glanced at the walker then at the pink flowers.

“Allison!” Prisha ran forward along with Violet. “You weren’t bitten, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t,” Allison mumbled but the others still checked her for bites.

Soon AJ jogged forward, fresh blood on his blade from the final walker he took down with a stab to the side of its head. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Allison whispered, still wrapped up in Willy’s arms. “It’s a tie.”

“Yeah, it is,” AJ took a deep breath then furrowed his eyebrows “What do you wanna do? Another competition?”

“No, I don’t,” Allison’s eyes focused on the flowers before she glanced over at her best friend. “Let’s just say we both won. Okay?” “Okay,” AJ gave a short nod and watched as Allison slipped out of Willy’s arms. Slowly she walked forward and picked one of the pink flowers.

“We should probably head inside,” Allison walked in and soon the others followed. Not sure what to say or do, they watched Allison as she examined the flower. Slowly she twirled it between her fingertips, a single thought soon appearing in her mind. It was time that she visited an old friend.

[buckleysjareau]

masterpost of all of my fics

!hey hey, here’s mostly everything i’ve ever written for 9-1-1 and Criminal Minds. Reblog if you like any of them, and always come back to check and see if it’s updated. It’ll always be pinned. :) Everything under the read more line!

AO3: 9-1-1

Buck Goes To Pride (buddie, getting together)

Thinking back to that cold winter afternoon when Buck broke down in her arms after the shit show that was his coming out, she never thought she'd be helping her brother get ready for Pride. He shut that part of himself away for a long time. But eleven years later, she's handing her brother a box with a pride flag in it, and he's grinning from ear to ear.

Buck goes to his first pride featuring his journey of coming out, lots of hugging, and Hen being the best.

...or you could have mine? (buddie, pre-relatioship)

There's too much going on between his agitation, people talking over each other, the way his uniform feels more scratchy than it ever has, and the bright lights. He can't sit still and he knows he's starting to annoy everyone but he can't help it no matter how much he wishes he could with his medication.

ADHD Buck

agree to disagree (buddie, getting together, friendship)

Whoever thought a night of heavy drinking between Buck, Eddie and Chimney was a good idea, were out of their minds. When sober, they were idiots but shot after shot of tequila plus the couple of beers they each had before meeting up multiplied the absolute stupidity of the three men.

Buck, Eddie, and Chimney get wasted and Athena wins a bet.

i put a spell on you (buddie, getting together)

Eddie Diaz absolutely loved Halloween. Ever since he was an excitable eight year old boy he’d been known to go all out for the holiday. Twenty-four years and a son had not changed that.

4k+ words of Eddie being happy, scaring his friends, and loving Halloween.

baby you know i just wanna leave tonight (buddie, pre-relationship)

If there was one thing that people knew about Evan Buckley, it was that he didn’t want people to know him.

People find out more about Buck then he ever wanted them to know when the Buckley’s come to town.

i woke up from a never ending dream (buddie, getting together)

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Sensing the urgency, Eddie jogs the rest of the way. He doesn’t know what he’s really expecting, his mind not entirely focused, but for the second time that night, Buck surprises him.

“Buck?!”

Where Buck is going through it and Eddie has anxiety but they help each other through it. Featuring pet names and lovesick Eddie.

you feel like the sun on my face (buddie, established relationship)

Buck has a way of doing things and saying things that even in Eddie’s worst moods, he still can’t fight his smile.

Eddie's view on Buck's Wikipedia spirals and the beginning of the brilliant idea it inspires.

Part 1 of 3 in the ‘cause of i’m not too far and you’re my favorite place series

you feel like the perfect escape now (buddie, established relationship)

"In the symbolic language of jewels, a sapphire in a wedding ring means marital happiness."

Eddie planning his proposal with the help of Hen and Karen. Featuring good ol' Buck and Chimney banter, soft and in love boyfriends, and tooth rotting fluff.

Part 2 of 3 in the ‘cause i’m not too far and you’re my favorite place series

everything is blue (may + buck friendship, buddie, getting together)

When Evan Buckley is ten, he discovers nail polish.

In which Buck paints his nails, Eddie is flustered, and May is a matchmaker.

it weighs on me (buddie, established relationship)

The bad weather is gone, except it’s not.

In which Buck has a bad day and Eddie holds him through it.

101.9 (buddie, getting together)

Evan Buckley did not get sick.

Based on a tumblr prompt where Buck’s fever won’t fuck off so Eddie makes him take a cold bath.

when i’m walking in my sleep (buddie, getting together)

He finds that maybe he’s a little in over his head when Buck greets him with a loopy smile. He’s just a tiny bit in love with Evan Buckley, and having dealt with post-surgery Buck before, Eddie is sure his heart might burst with every zany grin and stage-whispered expression of appreciation.

Eddie takes care of a loopy Buck after he gets his screws removed, and truths come out.

you’re in my heart  (buddie, established relationship)

"I will not be broken... I will not be... fine, fine, you win! Stop with the face."

Eddie sings Buck to sleep after he finds out Eddie can sing.

we’ll be fine, you and i (buddie, established relationship)

He couldn’t believe his luck. He never imagined he’d be able to have this and now, he’s here. He has everything he could ask for and more in his boyfriend’s arms. Stability, happiness, love.

dizzy hurricane (buddie, pre-relationship)

“I’m a medic,” Buck mocks. “You’re a medic, but you can’t take care of yourself, apparently!”

Eddie refuses to admit he’s sick and finds his medic expertise is unreliable when it comes to himself.

tongue forgot the words and feet forgot the earth, it’s true (buddie, established relationship)

Eddie feels like he’s drowning in insurance payments, tuition raises, overbearing parents and anxiety. Things had definitely been worse on him when he didn’t have a whole new support system on his side but things just kept piling on, one after another, it was impossible for him not to feel suffocated. Every muscle in his body was sore from being completely tensed all of the time, the lack of sleep was getting to him, he’s in a foul mood to everyone that loves him. He just wants a break, needs a break.

Eddie finally gets a second to breathe.

you are my glitter and my gloom, i am so numb without you (buddie, getting together)

But right now, with Eddie by his side, he doesn’t worry. For the first time in almost a year, he doesn’t have to worry.

Buck has a flashback, or six, after the landslide. Eddie is there to bring him back, like always.

double vision wrapped in last night’s party clothes (buck centric, pre-relationship buddie)

"I have always been honest with you." When Eddie's voice cracks, Buck's composure almost cracks with it. "Why can't you just be honest with me?"

When Buck is let in on a long kept family secret, he doesn't know what to do. He almost ruins things with the one person that keeps him from feeling like he's floating away with no way to land, but it ultimately turns out okay with help of a little communication.

safe, better keep that thought to yourself (madney)

But days after, he still can’t stop hearing it in his head, over and over.

I love you, Howie. I love you, Howie. I love you, Howie. I love you, Howie.

with friends like ours anywhere is home (buck & tk, background buddie)

[@evanbuckley: you have two new follow requests.] @marjanmarwani would like to follow you. @tkstrand would like to follow you.

@tkstrand liked your photo. @tkstrand liked your photo. @tkstrand liked your video.

@tkstrand So, I see you have a boyfriend, too. I’m sorry for assuming haha

Wait, what?

Buck and TK’s long distance friendship featuring love advice, horrible nicknames and background Buddie.

wish i could keep you in amber, safe from the outside (buddie)

Neither of them say anything as Eddie takes shelter in Buck’s arms, face tucked in the crook of his neck, sheltered from all the bad that’s happened. A safe place.

He can only hope that he’s Buck’s safe place, too.

In which Eddie and Buck are struggling after the shooting and they finally have a much needed talk.

AO3: Criminal Minds

you light my fire (jemily, AU)

Emily's face stays complacent as JJ reaches out her hand to shake, only dropping the smug act and smiling genuinely when she reaches for JJ's hand. "Welcome to the team, Pennsylvania Petite."

Jemily Firefighter AU

Tumblr: 9-1-1

“i saw this and i thought of you immediately.” (buddie)

keep you warm (henren)

wheels up, buck (9-1-1, criminal minds crossover)

stand, you’re gonna run again (buck centric, buck & bobby)

bows and ribbons and glitter (buck & chimney, madney) 

“i believe that would be murder” (buddie, pre-relationship)

mac-and-cheesy (buddie, established relationship)

his saving grace (buddie, pre-relationship, buck centric)

what i love about the south (pre-relationship buddie)

unconditional, unadulterated (buddie, getting together)

home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling (buck & athena)

he’s special, they’re special (madney, meet-cute)

Tumblr: Criminal Minds

rough nights end in hot chocolate (garvez)

[mourntheantagonist]

Steve and Billy going camping with Max n the Party and all Billy wants to do is get in a tent with Steve

Hey I’m here thirty years later!

I had a lot of fun with this one so I hope this is kind of in the realm of what you wanted!!!

read on ao3

How a gaggle of fourteen year olds managed to convince Steve to take them all on a weekend camping trip was beyond him. Okay maybe it wasn’t. All it took was El’s signature pout and Steve was as good as gone. The real shocker however, is how they managed to convince Billy Hargrove of all people to tag along as well.

He’d heard from Max that their relationship had been slowly improving ever since that night at the Byers, and he’d have to agree with Max that Billy had truly become less hostile as the months passed. But this was the first time he’s ever seen Billy acting so brotherly.

Steve had driven the male party members out into the woods, while Billy, Max, and El had driven separately. The three were late, of course. But Steve’s not quite sure he can exactly pin that on Billy. El is definitely poor when it comes to punctuality. 

They couldn’t actually set up shop until the others arrived, seeing as they were supposed to select the chosen spot together. But as he watched the seconds tick by on his watch he grew more and more impatient he was close to saying fuck it and making it a boys only trip. That was until, seemingly on cue, the familiar roar of the Camaro echoed through the trees.

Watching Billy step out from the driver's seat was the first reminder that he hadn’t actually seen Billy in a while. Because so much had changed. His hair was less disheveled and chaotic as he remembered. But way curlier. It was slightly lighter too. The arrival of summer brought out the natural highlights in his hair. But it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed. Instead of exiting the car with the slam of his foot, the flick of a cigarette, and a predatory look… he was laughing. Laughing along with El and Max about something entirely unknown, and when asked, wasn’t revealed.

If Steve hadn’t let himself grow increasingly annoyed over the past fifteen minutes he stood there waiting, he might’ve cared to know. But the sun was beating down, he’d had to listen to Mike and Dustin argue about some Star Trek nonsense for the duration of the drive along with the time spent waiting, and he was starving. 

“You’re late.” Steve said dryly.

“That’s my fault,” Billy replied with some residual laughter from whatever was so funny. “I forgot to counter in Hopper’s 20 minute ‘protect my kid’ speech when I went to pick up El.”

“Well I’m starving. So let’s find a spot, and let’s find it quickly.” Steve probably should’ve tried at least a little to tone down his irritation.

“Someone’s in a mood.” Max says under her breath, causing El to break out into another fit of giggles.

The gang decided not to test their luck against a hungry Steve Harrington. Especially not one wielding a baseball bat coated in rusty nails. So they piled all their camping supplies onto their backs and hauled ass through the woods.

After only ten minutes of searching, they stumbled across a nice clearing just 50 feet off the lake with a picnic table and fire pit already set up for them. Perfect.

The guys started by setting up their tents, while El and Max worked on gathering twigs for the fire. Dustin has meticulously established the sleeping arrangements. Five small tents. Eleven with Max, Dustin with Will, Lucas with Mike, and Billy and Steve alone in their own separate tents. It’s the perfect set up so long as Lucas doesn’t bring up any conversation regarding Empire Strikes Back being anything lower than number one out of the entire trilogy. Because then there would be chaos.

But when is Mike not the problem?

After getting set up, they finally got to break out some delicious ham and swiss sandwiches (courtesy of Claudia Henderson), and Steve was finally entering into a better mood.

He couldn’t entirely credit the sandwich however, because something about this new and improved Billy warmed something inside of him. He was less abrasive and more relaxed. He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone and instead was allowing himself to have a good time. Teasing his sister rather than tormenting her. Tossing knowing looks towards Lucas rather than threatening ones. Okay scratch that. They were definitely threatening. But more playful. The typical older brother spiel. The ‘you hurt her, I’ll rip your throat out through your ears’ kind of thing. And he was actually trying to make conversation with him. Only slightly poking fun at him every now and then. Not for the purposes of taunting, instead just his typical charm showing through.

“So what you been up to this summer? Haven’t seen you since graduation.”

“I’ve been working at Scoops Ahoy in the new mall. Not much else really.”

Billy took another bite of his sandwich and nodded. “I recently got hired on at the pool. Teaching lessons and life guarding. Saving up for when I go out to college in the fall.” He didn’t swallow the bite before speaking. New and improved Billy didn’t have table manners he guesses.

“Oh really? Where you headed to?”

“Full ride at USC.” Billy let out a hollow laugh. “Dad’s pissed I’m not enlisting.”

Steve picked up on the way Billy’s smile faltered at the mention of his Dad. He’d remembered Max mentioning once or twice about how her step-father was an asshole. For fucks sake Billy got a full ride to a prestigious university and his Dad is upset about that? He couldn’t even get into Tech. 

“I think it’s awesome.” Steve finally said. “I didn’t get accepted anywhere so I’m probably going to end up going to work for my Dad at his company.”

Apparently Steve let his disappointment show in the last statement. 

“Shit that sucks man. Dads are shit.”

Steve lets his mouth twitch upward into a smile. He looks back down at his almost finished sandwich and lets out a slight chuckle.

“Yeah. Dads are shit.”

- : -

After they all finished up their late lunches, the kids decided to move the party away from the table and into the lake. They walked along the lake shore for maybe a quarter of a mile before finding an abandoned rope swing attached to a tree directly next to deep waters. Steve and Billy both notice as Max gets this fire in her eye and neither adult bothers stopping her before pushing an unexpecting Lucas into the water. The whole group bursts into laughter as he makes the splash, well everyone except of course for Lucas.

But quickly the rest of them joined him in the water. All of them swinging in by the rope. Surprisingly the most timid out of all of them was Steve himself, who in a moment of desperation had to have Billy give him a push. 

Billy followed him in with a much larger splash than he had previously achieved. But it wasn’t a competition or anything.

Billy emerged from the water like a fucking mermaid. Graceful. His hair was completely saturated in water yet his curls still managed to pack a punch. He glistened under the rays of the sun and with the reflection of the water beneath him. Steve felt chills up and down his entire body as he watched him float away on his back. Watching as his chiseled chest rose and fell with every breath and the light from the sun reflected off of the water droplets on his sun kissed skin. He would just excuse it for the cool temperature of lake water.

But it wasn’t that cold to be completely honest. It’s June. One of the hottest months of the year and the weather is peaking at nearly 100 degrees. The water feels perfect in actuality. 

Steve swims around for a bit with the boys, plays a couple rounds of Marco Polo, and then excuses himself to lie out on the shore. He watches as they all have a blast. Lucas and Max are basically trying to drown Mike. Will and Dustin are competing to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest. Will has been cheating the entire time and Dustin has absolutely no clue. Billy and El are off in the corner. He’s picking her up and tossing her into the water. They both appear to be having a really good time. Billy is surprisingly really good with El. He’s actually pretty good with all of the kids all things considered. Something must’ve happened when he wasn’t looking because he seemed to be the only one to bat an eye at the mentioning that Billy Hargrove would be joining them on the trip. 

Steve inspected the time and decided to give the kids their 15 minute warning. Sun set was inching closer and they still had other preparations. He watched as Max swam over to where El and Billy were and after watching them exchange a couple sentences, Billy swam away and towards where Steve sat on the shore. 

Billy pushed himself out of the water and dried himself off with a towel. He wrung out his hair and secured the wet mess of curls up with a purple scrunchie. He threw his sweatshirt on, zipper remaining undone showing off his exposed chest, and he plopped down next to Steve. 

Oh boy. Steve hopes Billy didn’t notice the fact that he was staring at him that entire time.

“So what’s the plan for the rest of tonight Stevie?”

Steve feigned annoyance at the nickname (though it secretly made him embarrassingly giddy). “Well we’re going to roast some hot dogs and make some s’mores and hang around the fire before bed.”

“Sounds like a plan Harrington.”

An uncomfortable silence grows from there. The two of them sitting side by side looking out at the lake in front of them. Nothing but the sounds of splashing water and giggling teenagers. Billy is picking at the grass. Thinking. Steve might say he even looks nervous.

“I’m sorry about last November.” Billy doesn’t look up from where it’s pointing towards the overgrown blades of dead grass. 

It’s not the snarky and forced apology he was expecting. To be completely honest he never did expect one. Seven months had passed since it happened and not a single word from Billy. He just left him alone like his sister demanded.

“I’ve wanted to apologize before. But I wasn’t in a great place and didn’t want to screw it up. I probably already did by taking so long.” He took a deep breath and finally looked up. Eyes focused on the lake and avoiding Steve’s gaze. “I needed to make sure I was apologizing for the right reasons. Not just to get my sister off my back or to somehow make myself feel better about what I did to your face. I needed to apologize so that you knew that I was sorry. And I needed to be okay with you not forgiving me for it. So that’s why I’m saying it now.”

 Billy finally looks over at Steve who has been staring at Billy with wide eyes. It’s weird, because when Steve thinks about it, he kind of forgave him a long time ago. Because yeah, what Billy did was shitty, but not completely unfounded. He’s been underneath someone like that, barreling into him without care, more than once. It would have been easy to say Billy and his interaction was nothing like what he had with Jonathan Byers. Billy was actually a bad guy. 

But that’s the thing. He really wasn’t. Not after everything happened. 

He wasn’t outwardly kind. But he didn’t start shit. He minded his own business and moved through high school the same way everyone else did. And after hearing Max and Dustin and El vouch for him to come on this trip, well that sort of just sealed the deal. He forgave him before he even apologized.

But here he was. Apologizing. And for some reason Steve was rethinking ever forgiving him. It made no sense. But somehow actually knowing and believing Billy was actually sorry made forgiveness harder. Like in his mind it was easier because Billy didn’t get to know that he was forgiven. He was scared by telling Billy that he would be justifying what he did. 

So Steve doesn’t respond. And he can tell that Billy’s upset about it. It’s only been ten minutes but he decides to call the kids out of the water anyway.

- : -

The sun was setting and everyone had gathered around the campfire to roast marshmallows. Things had been ever so tense between Steve and Billy ever since their conversation at the lake. No one else seemed to notice though. 

It was easy to distract himself from Billy’s saddened state by watching as Dustin set his marshmallow on fire. Every time without fail. Max wasn’t roasting hers, just eating the marshmallows straight out of the bag because she doesn’t like graham crackers. Billy was intently making the most golden brown marshmallow for El because she didn’t know how to properly roast her own. It was really sweet. Billy seemed happy to do it but at the same time he had that lingering gloomy look on his face that would come in and out of existence.

Steve felt a little bad because he did that. Yeah, it’s the guy who nearly killed him, but he didn’t want to make him sad. 

He brightened up a little bit when the bickering began between Dustin and Mike. This was the reason they couldn’t share a tent. Max, El, and Billy moved into their own conversation out of earshot while Steve tried to calm down an overly enthusiastic Dustin.

When the argument ended Billy was looking to be in a much better mood than before. It was a little odd. They noticed the fire starting to dim so Max and El quickly excused themselves to go gather some more twigs from the forest. 

Billy was poking at the fire with a stick, trying to keep it alive (masking a developing smirk on his face).

“Hey Steve!!” Max’s voice echoes. “There’s a gaping hole in your tent!” 

El is stifling a laugh. Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

Steve rushes over to inspect the damage and yeah, it’s a gaping hole alright. His entire body could fit through it. How did he not notice it earlier?

“Goddamnit!” Steve curses the air.

“I’m sure Billy wouldn’t mind sharing!” El says, albeit, a little too excitedly.

Steve looks over to Billy who is still poking at the fire. “Yeah. I got room, I don’t mind.” 

And now Steve can’t just say no. He’d have to give a reason and well… he’s kind of strapped for an alternative so, Billy’s tent it is.

- : -

They stay by the campfire until the sun has completely set and the fire has gone out on its own. They broke out a couple of Beers and after several minutes of constant begging Steve caved and let the party have a small amount of beer each, poured into a red solo cup.

“This tastes like shit.” Dustin made a ridiculous face.

“Still better than New Coke.” Mike chimed in.

Billy helped Steve carry his things over to Billy’s tent. It was extremely awkward. Billy hadn’t really said a word to Steve the entire time and now they were supposed to sleep side by side in a pretty compact space? This should be fun.

An over dramatic yawn released by Max was their signal to head to sleep. The stars were clear above them and they had a pretty eventful day. Steve made sure everything was good while the rest of them piled into their own tents. Once he’s sure the food is secured and everyone is where they’re supposed to be, he sucks in a sharp breath and makes his way over to Billy in his tent.

Billy is already in his sleeping bag. He’s got a book in one hand and a flashlight in his other. Steve quickly discards his shoes and jeans and covers himself in his own sleeping bag. 

They’re both facing away from each other. It isn’t until Steve hears the click of the flashlight and the illumination in the tent disappears that he realizes neither of them have spoken. 

Steve has been thinking about the apology all night. He planned to just leave it be. Maybe thank him for apologizing but leave it at that. But seeing how much he’s changed and seeing how sincere he was being told him maybe Billy deserved to be forgiven. He also looked like he needed to be forgiven, despite what he said before at the lake. 

“I needed to apologize so that you knew that I was sorry. And I needed to be okay with you not forgiving me for it. So that’s why I’m saying it now.”

“I forgive you Billy.”

“Hmm?”

“I said I forgive you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it back at the lake.” Steve took in a deep breath and continued. “I wasn’t sure if it would be the right thing. But you’re clearly not the same person you were that night. I just didn’t really see it at first. I’m going to have to get used to this new and improved version of Billy Hargrove.”

Billy smiled to himself. 

“Thanks.”

Steve smiled too. 

The tent grew silent again after that. But it was slightly less tense than it was before.

“Can I say something stupid?” Billy asks.

Steve turns over to face Billy. He laughs. “Yeah. It’d be nice hearing it come from someone else for a change.”

Billy doesn’t turn to face Steve, but he can tell that he’s nervous because it’s quiet enough to hear his breathing quicken.

“I like you. Like… in that way. Sorry if that’s weird.”

Steve is quick to respond.

“Hey, it’s not weird. Don’t apologize for that.” He’s thinking a lot about Will. He and Dustin had talked about it before. How they’d be sure to make sure that Will knew it was okay whenever he chose to tell them. He doesn’t see why that should be any different for anyone else. Including Billy Hargrove.

But he guesses this is kind of different. It’s not just a confession of being into guys. It’s a confession of being into a specific guy. The specific guy in question being Steve.

It would also be pretty hypocritical of Steve to be weirded out. Not two hours ago he was fully objectifying Billy’s shirtless body. He might not like Billy. But dammit he was definitely attracted to him.

“If you’re uncomfortable I can hike back to the Camaro and sleep there. It’s not a problem.”

Billy had already begun unzipping the sleeping bag. Steve instinctively put a hand on Billy’s shoulder. 

“Hey. Billy it’s seriously alright. Look at me.”

Billy hesitated before rolling over. Their eyes met and due to the compact nature of their current sleeping arrangement, their faces lie mere inches away from each other. Steve had planned something to say, but he instantly forgot when he looked into Billy’s eyes. They weren’t the eyes belonging to an egregious asshole. They were the eyes belonging to a scared kid that maybe, given the time, Steve could grow to like. 

He could try blaming it on the beer. But Billy and himself both knew he didn’t even finish the one. But still, Steve inched closer and kissed him. It was soft and gentle. Steve moved a hand up to caress Billy’s cheek. Billy gently grabbed Steve’s wrist and deepened the kiss. 

Steve could feel Billy’s smile on his lips. 

He slithered his other hand underneath Billy and pulled him in closer. Their bodies were completely pressed against each other at every point, save for the thickness of not one but two sleeping bags separating skin from skin. 

Still they could feel each other’s heartbeats increase as their pace did the same. The kiss turned from gentle to one filled with need. 

Billy began working at the zipper of his sleeping bag with his other hand and was able to break free. He rolled Steve over onto his back and situated one leg on either side of Steve’s hips. Their lips didn’t come unattached. Steve moved both hands to the back of Billy’s head and he took fists full of hair and tugged gently, causing Billy to quietly moan into his mouth.

It was complete euphoria.

Billy was in just his boxers. Meanwhile Steve was still beneath the thick material of his sleeping bag. Billy unzipped it quickly for Steve and immediately tossed it off of him. Billy snaked a hand underneath Steve’s shirt. Moving up and down the full length of his chest. Appreciating his minimal chest hair. On the trip back down Billy’s hand palmed Steve’s crotch where he was quickly becoming hard from all of the friction. Steve let out a gasp as he made contact. 

“We can’t. The kids’ll hear us.”

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet pretty-boy.”

Billy waited for Steve to give indication that it was okay to continue. Steve laughed and pulled him back down to meet his lips. Billy hiked up his shirt and they shortly separated to pull it over his head. Billy moved back in to Steve’s neck and sucked harshly on several spots before peppering kisses all along the length of his torso until he reached his navel. Billy stuck his thumbs underneath the waistband of Steve’s briefs and slowly rolled them down.

Billy moves so that he’s in between Steve’s legs and lowers his head into his groin. Steve feels as the tension builds in the pit of his stomach from the delicate touch of Billy’s tongue. Even under the chill from the night air he’s warm all over.

“Feels so good Billy, Fuck!” He quickly puts a hand over his mouth when he realizes he said that a little too loudly.

Steve is just lying there, experiencing the utter bliss that is Billy Hargroves mouth wrapped around his cock making him feel every sensation all at once. 

“I’m close.” He whispers. God he really hopes the kids are asleep.

“Come for me pretty-boy.”

And boy does he. Just the way he said it was enough for Steve. He was a goner at the mere drop of the words ‘pretty boy’.

Billy wiped away at his mouth and crawled back up to lay down next to him. Steve immediately pulls him into another kiss. He’s not quite ready to come down from the high he was currently in. Billy’s mouth on his was a fucking drug. 

It’s weird to thank people after sex right?

Steve settles for something else when they finally part.

“It’s my turn.”

- : -

The two of them wake up in a single sleeping bag. Steve has his arms wrapped around Billy’s wasted and his head tucked into the crook of his neck. Steve is sweating because Billy’s is a goddamn space heater.

He can hear the rustling of the tents outside and quickly wakes up Billy so they can get out of their current suggestive position.

Billy in his sleepy state gives Steve a quick kiss on the lips. He’s quickly woken up by Dustin screaming at everyone to wake up from outside the tent. 

“We’ll talk about this later?” Steve says with a laugh.

Billy nods and gives him another quick kiss before getting up and tossing on a new pair of clothes. 

Once dressed they both exit the tent to see everyone making their way to the picnic table. 

They pull out several boxes of cereal and some milk from the cooler and begin eating their breakfast. Billy is sitting across from Steve, gently kicking at his feet. 

“Hey Steve what happened to your neck?” Dustin asks.

Steve’s eyes go wide and he quickly comes up with a cover.

“Oh uh, there were a lot of mosquitoes last night. Wouldn’t leave me alone.”

They all seem to accept the response and go back to their breakfasts.

Billy smirks at him from across the table and Steve stomps on his foot.

- : -

Max, Billy and El say their goodbyes and head off in the Camaro. 

Once the Engine is running and they’ve started driving away they all burst into laughter.

“I can’t believe you actually took a knife to Steve’s tent.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked Steve!”

[brasskier]

@badthingshappenbingo​ trope #4!

Trope: Concussion

Summary: Jaskier feels like a detective, albeit a clumsy, scrambled-eggs-for-brains kinda detective. He has two mysteries on his plate at the moment - why is Geralt in a bad mood, and why won't his brain cooperate? (Hint: perhaps it has something to do with hitting his head that morning.)

Read on my ao3 or below the cut:

Jaskier probably should've told Geralt when he slipped and smashed his head into a rock on the riverbank coming back up from his morning bath, or should've at least known it was bad when bright worms of light started squiggling in his peripheral and words suddenly got a lot harder to string together. And maybe he would've, if he wasn't so intent on figuring out why Geralt was in such a piss-poor mood that morning. He felt like a detective - albeit a clumsy, scrambled-eggs-for-brains kinda detective - stringing together clues and occasionally nudging the witcher along with leading questions, at least when he could get his brain, lips, and tongue to all cooperate. 

Unfortunately, Jaskier was doing about as well at solving the mystery of Geralt the extra-grumpy witcher as he was figuring out what was going on in his own skull. It'd happened once when he was a boy, falling out of a twisty, too-tall tree. His father, may he rest in peace, didn't notice until Jaskier, uncharacteristically silent, stared vacantly past him— until that point he'd been more preoccupied scolding him for ruining yet another fine pair of trousers. (His parents paid good money for those things, but he was pretty sure maybe they should've learned by that point and stopped dressing him up in finery before releasing him into the world.) 

Speaking of, he could use a new pair of pants. Maybe once they made it to the next town he could find a seamstress, maybe even invest in a nice new doublet as well. Geralt always pretended he found such purchases frivolous and vain, all huffy and monosyllabic, but Jaskier knew full well it put him in a good mood to have something to tease Jaskier for.

Good mood. Right. He was supposed to be figuring out why he was in a decidedly not good mood. He was supposed to… well, he really didn't know past that. His thoughts flitted about his head like a chicken desperate to escape its coop, and this thought made him giggle to himself, picturing his squishy brain with a beak and feathers squawking about.

"Jaskier?" He glanced up at the witcher that had reclaimed his attention, finding it distinctly difficult to track his movements as he bobbed along on his horse. "Did you listen to a thing I said?" Well, that was a silly question, Jaskier thought, because in order for him to listen, Geralt would've had to have said something. His mind trapped like a stuck cog on how to put this minor incongruence into words, and the witcher glared at him in the space of his tenuous silence. 

"How could I?" He asked finally, head tilted to parallel the uncertainty etched in his tone.

"With your ears," Geralt deadpanned, and Jaskier grimaced under the frustration of his misunderstanding.

"No, that's not— I meant— you didn't—" he attempted to elaborate, but once again found his brain, flighty as a hummingbird, refused to put thoughts to language. Geralt slowed Roach to a halt, and only then did Jaskier realize he'd at some point stopped walking. He wasn't too sure when that happened, but he was sure he had to start again, because Geralt was already in a bad mood and the uneasy threat of abandonment always loomed thick. 

This, in hindsight, might've been a mistake. The trees spun, ground tilting ominously like a ship caught in a storm, and Jaskier staggered with the rhythm of it. This, finally, mercifully, seemed to tip off Geralt and his fancy-schmancy witcher senses that something wasn't right. 

"Jaskier?" He called, and he still sounded decidedly disgruntled. This wasn't good; Jaskier was supposed to be getting him in a better mood, not making things worse. He'd even been quiet for a change (moreso due to his tongue's uncooperativeness than any conscious choice on his part, not that Geralt needed to know this detail). 

The witcher swung a leg off the saddle, dismounted with the grace of a cat. (Which was funny; wasn't Geralt supposed to be a wolf? Didn't Geralt's brother know a cat witcher? Maybe cat witchers were even more graceful, like ballerinas; Geralt would never do ballet.) This thought would've also made Jaskier giggle, but he was hesitant to unclamp his jaw at the moment, fearful that more than words might spill past it.

"Jaskier?" It was more urgent this time, which Jaskier vaguely recognized was not good, but couldn't quite recall why. When he managed to force his eyes to focus for a split second, Geralt was in front of him, before the forest swelled again and swallowed him with it. He pressed a hand over his eyes, in the vain hope blindness might put an end to the spinning; he had no such luck, and found himself drifting even in the darkness. 

"Mmm?" He hummed, which was usually Geralt's line, but he was determined to keep up the tight-lipped defiance of his own body. He felt a hand scrape his forehead, shifting his carefully mussed hair, and then move down to cup his chin between two fingers. It was a gruff, economic movement; Jaskier, in his self-imposed darkness, pretended it was tender.

"What's wrong with you?" Even Geralt's voice seemed to be swimming, tilting forward and back with each strangely distorted syllable. What isn't, Jaskier wanted to joke in return, snicker a little at Geralt's frustration. But he couldn't, at least not without giving into opening his mouth, and besides, Geralt was already in a bad mood. Instead, he shrugged, a turn of phrase about tables that turned flitting through his thoughts, and he surely felt like he was on a turning table, not that any tables Jaskier had ever seen were exactly known for turning. 

"Is it your throat?" It was a reasonable line of thought for Geralt to stroll down, to be fair, considering the whole thing with the djinn. Gods, how he wished he had a djinn right now, less-than-stellar experience aside. If he had one, there'd be none of that bloody Valdo Marx bullshit; no, instead the forest wouldn't spin anymore, his brain and tongue would cooperate, and Geralt would be in a good mood. 

Jaskier really was doing a shit job of uplifting Geralt's spirits, wasn't he? At the very least, he'd managed to tease out the source of his foul temper; at present, it was Jaskier himself. He risked a peek out into the world again, found concerned amber eyes tucked under a tight scowl tilting like a leaf in the wind, and promptly squeezed them shut again. Oh, yeah. Geralt had asked him a question— what was it? Ah, it was gone now, too late. He shook his head, hoping he was actually answering. This was a mistake, because it sent stars erupting in the darkness and an unbidden groan worming its way past his lips. 

"What, Jaskier?" Geralt sounded even more exasperated, if such a thing were possible, and Jaskier flung a hand up to press over his mouth, as if that might help whatsoever; it didn't. 

"No— fuck, I'm—" In one clumsy motion he managed to tear himself back and away from Geralt, jerk to the side, and stumble over his own two feet and onto his knees just in time to escape vomiting on Geralt's boots. That was good; vomit on his boots would've really pissed him off. The weathered hand that had earlier cupped his chin (Jaskier could still feel the ghost of it on his skin) came to sit heavy between his shoulder blades. This touch not even Jaskier could make feel gentle.

"Okay," Geralt hummed, somewhere to his side. "Alright, okay." Was this Geralt's attempt at being soothing? How Jaskier wished he could tell him he appreciated it; maybe later, when his stomach wasn't still bucking uncooperatively like a spooked horse. This was funny, too; Roach in his stomach, kicking and snorting, but Jaskier was beginning to get tired of silly tangents.

Come to think of it, Jaskier was just tired, his limbs suddenly heavy, pounding in his skull coming into sharp focus. The hand migrated up to his collar, no doubt to tug him back upright, but he wrenched free and let himself drop to the dirt before Geralt had the chance. A nap sounded absolutely divine at the moment, and he was beginning to think he couldn't care less whether the witcher stuck around to wait it out or not. (This last detail was, patently, an absolute lie, and Jaskier knew it full well even as the thought first pattered into his consciousnesses.)

Geralt rolled him over, flipped him on his side, and this was both a small mercy (he hadn't been abandoned) and a horrendous blight (the sun glaring directly into his eyes, even as he pressed a clumsy hand to cover them again.) Another callused hand swiped across his forehead, his cheek, made its way down his neck and pried back his doublet. Jaskier wasn't sure what Geralt was looking for, and he also didn't particularly think he'd find it, whatever it was. 

"There's no fever," Geralt announced, as if this were some grand discovery, a breakthrough in medical sciences. "Something you ate?" Ah, so now Geralt was playing detective, and Jaskier had all but given up on his case; another reversal of roles. Well, maybe at the very least Jaskier could give him better clues, or at least try.

"Head," he groaned, rolling back onto his side, cool dirt not unpleasant against his skin. This time, no hands tugged at him, but instead Geralt gave a soft hum, barely distinguishable from the ringing in his ears. "Hurts," he tacked on because, while it might've been implied, with Geralt it never hurt to be explicit. 

"Now we're getting somewhere." That thrice-damned hand returned again, worked its way through his hair, dragging along every bump and curve until he scuffed against a half-healed scab and a sharp pain ricocheted through Jaskier's skull. He recoiled, writhing for a moment before curling even tighter into himself. "When did you hit your head?" That was a good question, because Jaskier wasn't all too sure anymore if he even had.

"Dunno," he mumbled. Now if only Geralt could put a pause to the interrogation so he might be afforded the small mercy of dying in peace. “River?”

"Helpful." Footsteps, echoing through the dirt and drilling through his head with each heavy footfall, further and further and further away until he could only feel, not hear, them. This was fine. Not the end he felt truly befit a heroic bard of his renown, but humble enough to satisfy him nonetheless. Just him and the trees as he returned to the earth from whence he was borne. 

Then those blasted footsteps returned, those hands hoisted him, and he was face-first on the scratchy wool of his bedroll. He nuzzled against it, like a cat (he really needed to ask Geralt for the name of that cat witcher his brother knew). 

"You have a concussion." A light flickered to life somewhere in his brain at this revelation. One of his grand mysteries, finally come to its disappointingly anticlimactic conclusion. He still didn't know why Geralt had been in such a piss-poor mood, but he decided that was a puzzle for another time, letting his breath even out with impending sleep.

"Jaskier, I need to know you understand me, okay?" As soft as his words were, Jaskier couldn't help but find it incredibly rude of him to interrupt his much-needed and well-deserved rest. If he kept pushing it, Jaskier thought, perhaps Geralt would be having to solve the mystery of why he was grumpy.

"Mmm, okay." This earned him another pat on the shoulder, as gentle a touch as anything Jaskier could ever hope for. 

"I'll need to wake you periodically to make sure you don't lose what little wit you have," Geralt informed him, "but you can rest now." He felt like a sinking ship, overcome with warmth. Loose-limbed and giddy, he jutted out a clumsy hand and flailed blindly until it flopped against Geralt's arm, and he latched on. "Just tell me next time you hit your head."

"Thank you," he managed to get out on the tail end of a breath, slurred with exhaustion, disappointed when the witcher carefully extracted his wrist from his grip. A blanket settled on top of him, and he fumbled to tug it closer. 

"Just sleep." Needing no convincing, Jaskier did as he was told. And in his dreams, Geralt was in a good mood, and he could still feel the ghost of his hand on that patch of skin on his chin.