#also i made these late last night so they might be uh. yeah just a warning lmao

[taylorshope]

These are so fun to make

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕊𝕒𝕗𝕖 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: May I request the demon brothers with a reader who likes being with them because they feel safe around them?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Hi! Absolutely! Headcanond seemed a bit too boring so... I did oneshot. I guess reader could be seen as shy in some? So sorry if this isn't what you wanted but hopefully, it won't interrupt much and hope you like it anyway!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

You were just walking next to Lucifer with coffee in your right hand and his hand in your left. It was late night and you were walking back home after a date, you honestly didn't even care about the fact you were just about to pass some clearly drunk rebels, unlike Lucifer.

You were walking on his right side two you were basically out of reach for them. You just continued your little chat while your boyfriend was the one being caucious about this whole situation.

When you finally walked out of their reach, you could hear him sigh and turn his attention back to you. Just from the posture, you could tell... it's not gonna be the happiest conversation.

"Y/N... you know I appreciate you having conversation with me but I think it'd be better if you could keep it down when we walk by more problematic demons."

"Why tho? I don't think we should have worse time because of them."

"Yes... but haven't you considered the fact they might not be the nicest? Not speaking about the fact they were intoxicated and may've hurted you."

"I don't think so. I really just feel safe around you and that's why."

You certainly made all of his arguments escape his head. You could see small sparkle of pride in his eyes as his expression turned from scolding to gentle smug.

Seriously tho, what made you think it was good idea to boost his ego even more?

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Mammon got you out of the house, mainly by claiming he's not gonna make you pay again this week because he won in casino last night so he's treating you today! Sure, money isn't everything but those little demon owns you thousands of Grimm by now... it's nice to see him pay sometimes too to know there are feelings on your relationship after all.

You were walking through city with one restaurant in mind when he suddenly stopped and pointed at the jewellery shop.

"Hey, wait for me here, alright? I'll just go grab something from that shop!"

"Can't I just come with you?"

"Well uh- you could but... it's gonna be quick, yeah? It's not like someone will steal ya!"

"And what if they would?"

You said it kind of jokingly but also with slight worry... you felt the safest around him, it was only natural you wanted to go with him rather than wait here.

He also changed his expression and he actually thought of it. It didn't even took him long before he grabbed your hand and walked with you on his side into jewelery shop.

"Alright human, THE Mammon has you covered! Just don't peek when I tell ya not to!"

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You tugged on Levi's shirt, trying to get him off his console for 3 hours now... you respected his dedication and fact he wanted to beat up the impossible boss but he's loosing his sanity and you're getting hungry. And since all brothers except you two are away, you wanted to go eat in the city.

"C'mon Levi!! Let's just go order a pizza, have a little walk and we can come back home!"

"You realize you coule just go without me? I'm not gonna run away from this room anytime soon..."

"Well yeah but I don't want to go alone! It's safer with you!"

"You could always ask Lucifer to go with you? Or Diavolo? Or-"

"No, none of them make me feel safe like you do."

You looked up at him, seeing flushed face, open mouth and widened eyes. It was clear you caught him off guard and you couldn't help but grin knowing it's gonna be so much easier to convince him now.

"So? Can we go now?"

"S-Sure... let me pause..."

He wanted to tell you to wait for him to calm down but he simply couldn't bring himself to it, so he just paused his game and followed you to the city.

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You were actually walking alongisde Satan from your little cat cafe date quite comfortably. That's untill you noticed some shady demons on your way. Your boyfriend seemed to simply not care so you just got on the side closer to wall and catched his hand.

You simply felt safer behind him and even tho he wasn't looking your way, it didn't go unnoticed to him. You maybe not realized it at first but after he sent you small smug right as you passed the other demons, you knew he had you all figured out...

"Feeling this paranoid?"

"What's wrong with going behind person I trust?"

"Nothing. I just thought it's cute act. Are all humans this cowardly?"

"It was more of a survival instinct than cowardness..."

"Call it however you prefer."

You could just look at him upset as he chuckled at your reaction. Seems like he knows what he'll rub into others faces for the next few days... but it's still the fact that's the most important to him. People are usually scared of him and you feel safe around him, avatar of wrath? You're definitely something...

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@miya-akane - come get your cat lover!

You were casually walking through streets and carrying Asmo's bags as Asmo was thinking of shop you haven't visited yet today. And we know, you HAVE TO visit all the shops around here!

But when you were walking past shadier alley, you felt slight shivers down your spine... not only it was looking like out of a horror movie, you also heard from news, just today that there were kidnappings and murders happening recently.

Pink haired devil seemed to notice your concern and immidietly grabbed your hand in attempt to reassure you a bit and calm you down.

"Hey now. No need to get so scared when you're around me! Let's just have fun!"

Maybe he knew about your opinion on him, maybe he said that just to tease you? Who knows? What's important is that his actions worker flawlessly!

"Right... thanks a lot."

But your answer left him with small gasp as if not believing you admitted it just like that. So he was just teasing after all!

"Oh my, really?! Awh~ Alright then, sweetheart, I'll fulfill my job as tour prince~"

That definitely made his day and it'd definitely be hard to restrain him from posting anything related to this situation on Devilgram. He even hummer an upbeat song for the rest of the day and took you with him absolutely everywhere even after coming back home.

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@vodka-glrl - come get your pretty princess~

Beel actually knew that his body shape and sin itself could scare others easily and that most of his brothers felt safe around him. Also, he'd always offer to tag along when you were a bit too scared to to somewhere. Even then he didn't expect to ever hear it directly from someone else than Belphie...

"Thanks again, Beel... I shouldn't have watched that horror movie at 1am I guess..."

"It's fine. You already thanked me with food. And as much as I don't mind... you really should go to sleep earlier. Don't human need like 8 hours of sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know... But still. I'm happy it's you who went with me because I had no worries for the entire way! Out of all brothers, you're the one that makes me feel safest."

Beel stopped munching there for a second and looked down at you with slight surprise, but later on it turned into a grateful smile.

"No problem. I'm happy to put my reputation to protect ones I care about!"

What a cutie, he was smiling for the rest of the day too. All brothers thought it was just some delicious food but you, Beel and Belphie knew very well it wasn't the only thing that was causing it. It was honestly sweet to see him follow you with his legs or eyes like a little loyal puppy.

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Walking through city with Belphie looked like either him being carried on your or someone's back, or him looking like he's gonna drop and sleep on road any second. Even then, you took out no one else than avatar of sloth alone to accompany you.

Despite his lack it energy, you knew he could be dangerous. Heck, you alone probably know it better than anyone! So despite him being lazy as always, you actually felt safer than around anyone else! Well... maybe you could use Beel's company to feel even more safe but your boyfriend was still definitely enough. It was just trying to convince him to keep going that was hard...

"I'm so tired... you already have enough, let's just go home..."

"Just a while more Belphie. I still have one or two more shops to visit!"

"You said the same thing for last 6 stores... Couldn't you take Asmo with you instead?"

"Uhm... well technically but I prefered you. You're the one I feel safe around."

He suddenly stopped complaining and you could swear you just saw him getting slightly bit more energetic and motivated after hearing your voice. Also his pout changed into gentle smile as he finally wasn't walking like he'll collapse anymore.

"Oh... alright one more store. But I'm warning you, if we go through 2, I'll tell asleep on you..."

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@miya-akane - come get your sleepyhead~

[starry-bi-sky]

part five of "clone danny"

Danny returns home later that night with a dislocated shoulder from Skulker and his fair share of scrapes and bruises after facing off with a handful of ectoplasmic animal shades. (All of them stuffed inside his thermos with Skulker that he'll toss in the Zone tomorrow after school.)

He shoves his mask back into his pocket, and hides his bat in the bushes at the side of his house under his window, then rounds back around the front to go through the door.

...Mainly because if Bruce Wayne was still awake, it'd be suspicious if Danny made it home without ever using the front door. He sneaks back in, and slooowly starts closing the door.

"You're back late." Says a surly, young voice that startles Danny into slamming the door instead.

"Fucking--!" He cuts himself and breathes in slowly, trying to slow his elevated heart rate before looking over his shoulder to see who the hell scared him.

Glaring at him like an upset parent would, with eyes cutting like sea glass, is Wayne the Sequel... or perhaps he was the seventh sequel. Danny is silent for a moment. "...You're up early." He says, maybe a bit petulant. "Does your dad know you're up this late?"

"Father permitted me to stay up and wait for your return, actually." Damian sniffs, and if anyone could make 'scowling' into a vocal tone, Danny would have thought it'd be Sam. But Damian beat her to it.

Danny turns around slowly to face him, arms crossing. "Yeah, uh-huh." He nods slowly, "Like I'm gonna believe that. Do you normally sit in a random stranger's kitchen and interrogate them when they get home?" He tilts his head for good measure.

"No." Damian says. (He is, in fact, lying.) His eyes narrow at Danny as if he had committed a terrible crime by being in his presence. He looks down to Danny's hands. "Father said you left with a bat. Where is it?"

"I lost it." Danny replies, biting the inside of his lip to prevent himself from smiling.

"You... lost it?"

"Yup." He says blandly. "Whoops."

-------

Danny goes up to his room immediately after that and collapses on his mattress to pass out for the next three hours until his alarm goes off.

Much to Danny's luck, Bruce and his son are literally only there for a few days, and he spends as much time during it to avoid them like a plague (while also dealing with his dislocated shoulder, which should reliably heal in half the time thanks to his ectocontamination). Damian does whatever during the day since he doesn't go to Casper High.

Something to note as we get out of the 'fic'-y part of this post -- Daniel J. Fenton was, largely, the sexual awakening to many people in his grade in Casper High School, including many A-Listers. However he is still "Daniel Fenton" so many of his classmates will take that fact to their grave. And to their personal friend groups.

Does this have any impact going forward? Not really so far, no.

Dodging a Wayne-sized bullet doesn't mean that Danny can dodge the Wes-sized bullet, and finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with an irate Wes Weston who demands to know where he was last nice.

Of which Danny, not needing to drop his smartass comments in front of the guy who already knows his ID, responds by calling him a jealous ex and sidestepping him completely. following up with if Wes isn't careful, then Danny might just think that Wes has a crush on him

(Wes does, in fact, have a crush on Daniel J. Fenton. He will take this secret to his grave.)

Ellie shows up in his kitchen, sitting on the table with her legs crossed while chatting amiably with Bruce Wayne a few days later when Danny returns from school. When Danny asks how she got inside (the door is typically locked), Ellie smiles toothily and fangily, and happily tells him that she came in through the window. And that he needs to tell his parents to invest in locks. She has long hair the same length as him. It's like looking into a mirror, one he is welcome to see into.

It is endearingly Ellie-like to know that she all but broke into his house, and seeing his sister-clone-twin relieves some of his tension. Only a little though when Bruce Wayne was still in his house.

Normally he sits and talks for hours with Ellie. But instead he takes it to the stairs, telling Ellie that he'll be in his room when she's done talking to Mister Wayne. He is a stubborn ass who doesn't even bother to ask where Wayne the Sevquel is.

(He runs into Wayne a one or two more times the following nights. Wayne asks him where his bat is on the second night, his son says he lost it. Danny agrees with him, and Wayne asks with a touch of concern what he'll do if he comes across a ghost.)

(Danny shrugs and says he hasn't before. And comes back home with a bruise the size of a large cat on his hip and a couple more along his torso and legs. his knees hurt from rough jumps with poor landings. Damian is waiting when he gets home. They exchange a few barbs and Danny hightails it up to his room.)

(Danny's face is obscured by the lack of lights and the shadows in the corner. Its the only reason he feels even a modicum of comfort in exchanging a few words with Wayne.)

(Ellie is waiting outside for him the day she meets Wayne, and asks him if Wayne knows. Danny says he wouldn't be avoiding him if he did. Wayne probably wouldn't be as nice as he was now if he knew.)

("You don't know he won't be nice after finding out." Ellie points out while he's digging his bat out from the neighbor's bushes this time.)

("He's not me, Ell." He says, frowning. "We don't know that.")

(Ellie sighs sadly, and Danny feels a tinge of guilt. "You can tell him if you want," he offers, "you don't have to hold back on my behalf.")

("I want to tell him with you, though. C'mon, we're twins.")

(That night Danny avoids breaking his other arm after a run in with a large ecto-serpent. Ellie nearly rips out its tongue for it. She's more ghost-like than he is. Possessive and violent and very, very passionate. As if he wouldn't do the same if pressed.)

(Ellie gives Danny a piggyback ride home, the wind filtering through the grills of his mask and force-feeding him the taste of freedom. Damian is there while they sneak back in, stifling their laughter under the meat of their palms.)

(Danny may or may not have reached out and ruffled his hair in his joviality when he passed him by. Grinning painfully when Damian bats at his hand like a disgruntled kitten. His hair feels like feathers and the sensation sinks itself deep into Danny's star-in-the-sky sized core-obsession like a suggestion.)

(He might regret it in the morning. It will fade in time after the Waynes leave.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Taglist: @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour

[corruptedcaps]

Fake Week

“What kind of sicko are you Kane? I will not wear this… this butt plug. Its bad enough I have to pretend to be your girlfriend for a month so you’ll stop bullying Kevin but I’m not going indulge you in this sick game and wear some lewd sex toy of yours. I don’t care if this is what all your exes did! You’ll knock it down to just a week if I do? Alright fine but I’m cleaning it first. Maybe cleaning it more than once.”

“Are you happy now Kane? No you don’t get to check it! No wonder you’re single, you’re such a creep! Oh sure you wanted to see it was fitting fine and not hurting me? Yeah right how stupid do you think I am? And besides it fits perfectly, like really perfect actually. I uh got to go.”

“Yeah so what if I’m putting on makeup? I figured if I’m going to sell being your girlfriend I should probably start looking like those vapid bitches you are used to dating. Plus this is so easy, don’t know why I didn’t try it before. It’s just an act, you’re still a creep and once today is done I’ll be one day closer to not having to pretend to be your girlfriend!”

“It’s called yoga Kane. All you exes are flexible, athletic bitches so I thought I might as well act like I care about this stuff. I have to say though I’ve seen such a crazy improvement in just a few hours. It’s like magic! I can stretch and twist like never before and I’ve seen improvements in other areas too. Areas I see you’re checking out you cheeky bastard. I guess it is a pretty amazing ass now so I’ll allow it but don’t get any ideas, I’m just your fake girlfriend for 5 more days.”

“I never noticed how long my hair had gotten lately, it was getting in my face all the time during yoga so I decided to put it into a high ponytail, you know like one of your exes, and it’s so freeing. I used to think it was so bitchy looking but now honestly I think it’s sexy like this don’t you think? Of course you agree, I can see that bulge in your pants ‘babe’. Hmmm it’s kind of hawt seeing someone other that Kevin be turned on by me. Even with him it’s so few and far between lately. Maybe in four days when I’m back to being his girlfriend he’ll like this new hairstyle.”

“Ugh why are my so called friends so annoying today? They were complaining that I was saying mean things about Margo. All I said was if she wanted to ever get a guy she should maybe lay off the ice cream once and awhile. It’s not my fault the fatty started to cry. She should thank me for being honest with her. I should be more honest with the lot of them and kick them to the curb but they’re the only friends I’ve got. You’ve heard Amber and Mercedes want to be friends with me? The two biggest bully’s in school, but they are pretty cool and fashionable unlike these other dweebs. Maybe I’ll give them a text, thanks for the encouragement…. babe.”

“You were right about Amber and Mercedes. We texted all day yesterday and met up at the mall and went shopping. They convinced me to throw out all my lame clothes and buy a totally new look. It’s mostly pink and tight and sexy as hell. They also convinced me about something else. About you. I’ve been such a brat to you these past few days and you’ve been nothing but a gentleman to me. It’s time you got some sort of reward for your troubles. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t going to be a reward for me too. Just stand there looking handsome as hell and I’ll do the rest.”

“Hey baby, last night was mmmm really hawt but don’t tell anyone ok? I don’t want Kevin to know that I cheated on him last night… or this morning… or in your car later today. I can’t help it if you can’t keep your hands off me. I mean who can blame you? Plus you are MY boyfriend for two more days. Of course I told Amber and Mercedes though, they’re my besties, I had to tell them. Plus they were so impressed by what a bitchy thing my cheating was that they made me their new leader. Wasn’t your ex their old leader? Well I’m going to being even badder and bitchier than she was. Mmm that’s making me so horny. Fuck it let’s go to your car now.”

“Last day of our ‘relationship’. It’s only right that we get all the fucking in that we can. Glad to see your stamina is up to the task. Kevin wouldn’t last a fraction that you are capable of. What a fucking loser, can’t believe I have to go back to him tomorrow. Why am I doing this again? To stop you bullying him? He deserves to be bullied and you’re soooo hawt doing it. I never admitted since putting in the butt plug I’ve been touching myself at night thinking about you wailing on him. You’re so much more of a man than he ever will be. You know what? Fuck him. I deserve a strong, mean, and hot as hell boyfriend and you deserve a bitchy queen bee of a girlfriend. Kevin deserves to be the victim. Forgot our deal, I’m yours for good now and Kevin is all yours.”

“Oh the jacket? It belongs to my boyfriend, Kane. You know, your bully? Me date you? As if loser, I’ve always been Kane’s girl and always will. It’s like I was made for him. You’re just some simping creep who’s wanted in my panties for years. Everyone knows it, because my beta besties Amber and Mercedes are telling them right now. Those two can spread news like wildfires. You’ll be a pariah by the end of the day. Kane will be cheered on for bullying you. Mmmm speaking of which here he comes. Don’t forget to cry, it makes me so wet when you do.”

[transmascaraa]

Hello it's me again ;33, the one who requested to bsd, and seriously, i LOVED it, it almost made my cry 'cause i'm trying my best to get better, but anyways!! Can i ask more for bsd?? I saw that your requests are open, soo..... Can i ask Dazai and/or Chuuya having a partner that literally HATES alcohool and alcohoolics/drunk people? Like idk i think that it would be a very interesting think (most to Dazai cause Chuu isn't an alcohoolic he just get drunk easily but i think you understood), so pretty please?? (Thinking abt req for dgr too btw hehe >u<)

multiple characters headcannons!

alcoholism.

characters: dazai, chuuya x gn!reader

author's note: OKAY SO i don't like alcoholics and alcoholism as a whole bffr that shit is fucked up but i don't think this will be hard to write due to having witnessed some pretty bad experiences happen to the people in my neighborhood and i think it is really bad(my dad is a part of that even tho it's VERY rare and it doesn't impact him TOO much) lmao BUT i do love chuuya so why not write it smh i hope you enjoy! (also i'm glad you liked the last one^^)

☆Dazai

-uh so

-basically

-this man.

-it might be a LITTLE hard for you guys to get along in the first place

-especially when he comes home late at night, drunk as fuck and you have to help him go to sleep and rest(drink water first ofc)

-so you'll definitely try to help him or something i meannnn

-sometimes it's his failed attempt at killing himself but yk he doesn't really attempt after getting with you in a relationship

-you'll definitely try to confront him multiple times and tell him how bad and unhealthy it is.

-wether it's because of religion or just that you don't like it, he will not drink IN YOUR PRESENCE.

-otherwise, when he's not with you, he still drinks.

-and scold him please—

-he deserves it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♡ Chuuya

-so ofc as any decent human being you're gonna try and help him and stop him from drinking alcohol completely

-and with chuuya it might even work even tho the chances aren't all that high

-he understands that you hate it and just despise it when he comes back home at 4am drunk, then having you making him rest and all just isn't his thing at all.

-if you scold him, he'll always irritatedly reply with something like:

-"yeah, whatever, i know, i'm trying. mind your own business. i know."

-gonna be a bit of a challenge but at least it's possible.

-throw away any alcohol you have at home so it doesn't remind him of the taste or something (whereas dazai, if you threw it away, would buy it again without you knowing)

-ngl would be really understanding with this subject/topic, he'll do his best.

-if he fails know that he's still trying, especially with having you to distract him from it

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so yes

i like this one

love your reqs btw!!

| @mariaace <3

[astorytotellyourfriends]

The one thing that everyone seems to know about Eddie Munson is that when he's not out touring the world with his band, Corroded Coffin, he makes a point to be as invisible as possible in order to spend time at home with his family. Eddie, along with his wife Chrissy of seven years and their two young children, graciously invited Vogue into their Hollywood Hills home that's about as secluded as you can get while still having that coveted Los Angeles zip code.

Vogue: I have to admit, given what I've seen of Corroded Coffin on stage, I think I expected your home to reflect a bit more of that personality.

Eddie Munson: [laughs] You can thank Chrissy for that. She's the brains behind this whole operation, I just do what she tells me.

So there's no hidden dungeon in the basement?

Hate to burst your bubble, but nope. I've been trying to get a sacrificial altar for the backyard, but I haven't found one I liked yet.

Really?

[laughs] I'm kidding. But I had you going, right?

You really did. But that's what you've always done, right? Leaned into the mania of Satanic Panic and made it work for you?

Yeah, I guess so. I mean, people are gonna believe whatever they wanna believe anyway so I might as well give 'em what they want, right? Plus, [laughs] it's a hell of a lot of fun.

What's it like having that devil-worshipper stage persona with two young kids at home? Do either of your kids know what their dad does for a living?

Oh, yeah. They [redacted] love it. Wait, can I say [redacted]?

We can't print it, but you can say it.

[Redacted] yeah. Our little one doesn't really get the whole stage thing yet, but she sure looks cute in those big-ass headphones.

And your other daughter?

Oh, if she could be on stage with me every night, she would be. On our last tour, we had this gimmick where Gareth rigged a bunch of blood packs to his drums to explode during the encore and she thought it was the coolest [redacted] thing in the world. He even offered to let her do it when we were in rehearsals!

And did she?

Maybe.

From the look on your face, I'm guessing she did.

[laughs] Don't tell Chrissy.

Scout's honor. Until this article comes out, anyway.

[Redacted]. Is it too late to say off the record?

Way too late.

[Redacted]. Oh well. Worth it. She had the biggest [redacted] grin on her face when she was covered in fake blood, it was priceless.

Seems like you might be raising a mini version of yourself. Would you support your kids following in your footsteps and joining the music industry?

[Editor's note: At this point in the interview, the eldest Munson child came running out of the back door and pounced on her father, who took it in stride and continued answering questions as though he didn't have a six-year-old hanging over his shoulder.]

I mean, if that's what they wanna do, then hell yeah.

[gasps] Daddy said a bad word!

Daddy did not, Daddy said hell.

Mommy said hell's a bad word.

Mommy also said you were supposed to stay inside, didn't she?

Pip was crying. She misses you.

Do you need a moment?

[laughs] Believe me, if I took a moment for every time I wanted to be with my kids, I'd never get anything done.

Because you love us so much?

Exactly.

How much?

To the moon and back.

That's a lot!

Sure is, kiddo. Now shush and let the nice lady ask her questions.

Ooh, ask me! Ask me! I got lots of stories.

If you don't mind?

It's your funeral. [laughs] She'll talk your ear off if you let her.

What do you think about your dad being a rockstar?

[shrugs] It's okay.

Wow, thanks for the endorsement, kid. You heard it here first: being a rockstar is just okay.

Would you rather he had another job?

[shrugs] What other job?

I dunno. Playing music's the only thing I've ever been good at.

Nuh-uh! Daddy's good at lots of things.

Like what?

Telling stories. Playing with me. One time, he built me a big castle out of pillows and chairs and blankets and we played in it all day 'til Mommy said it was time for dinner. And then we all went to bed in it. Like camping!

Camping? When did you go camping?

Mommy let us sleep outside and said it was like camping. It was when you were gone. I don't like when you're gone. It makes Mommy sad. And then I'm sad. And Pip's sad. You're not going away again, are you?

No, baby. I'm staying right here with you.

Good. [to Vogue] Do you wanna see what Daddy brought home for me last time he went away?

I'd love to.

Okay!

[Editor's note: just as quickly as she came, Munson's daughter ran off to go fetch the present from inside the house.]

Do you need a minute?

Nah. It just… [sighs] never gets easier, you know? Hearing how much they miss me when I'm gone. I miss them all the [redacted] time.

I'm not surprised. Just from the last five minutes, I can see how much she adores you and I can't imagine what it's like to leave that behind, even when it's to go on a worldwide tour.

It's tough. I love my job, don't get me wrong. It's what's given us this house, all the [redacted] that the girls need, anything they could ever want, but… [shrugs] I dunno. Sometimes giving it all up doesn't sound half as hard as leaving them is. Maybe that's just me being ungrateful.

I don't think so. I think it means you're human. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you know? Torn between two worlds.

[laughs] Now there's an idea for an album. The dichotomy of being a rockstar and a father.

I'd listen to it.

Hell, so would I.

(might continue this with a lil follow-up fic of chrissy and eddie reading the interview before it goes to print... thoughts? 👀)

[captain-mj]

Could I get Siren!Soap and Siren!Roach? With (brutal captain?) Pirate!Ghost? Please?

Barking, jumping on my little toes, yeah I can, especially the brutal part

Ghost felt like he was going insane. He knew that Soap and Roach couldn't be human. He suspected for so long that something was wrong with them but now it was a persistent problem.

The two of them had... bewitched him somehow. Clearly. In their presence, Ghost's thoughts were consumed by them. How beautiful they were. How brave. How cool as well. Also, an ever growing anxiety on what they thought about him.

Away from them, his brain worked normally and he could realize how evil they were.

Right now, he watched them from afar, they talked amongst each other. Well, Soap talked. Roach never spoke, just watched him and listened. They were so pretty together. Pictures of beauty.

Ghost knew they could not be human. Impossible.

His cold heart would not open so easily. However, despite how cruel he could be to others, he had trouble being mean to him. He assumed this had something to do with the curse they had put on him, but the idea of doing what he would do to anyone else, skinning them, having them tied to the mast and whipped, tying them up tight and dangling them over the edge so they drowned, well... it bothered him.

Naively, he told all of this to his friends Price, Alejandro, Rodolfo and Alex. Gaz was nearby but had "gotten distracted". Lately, he had been avoiding him.

"I'm sorry. You're saying that last night you slept with them," "Yes." "and this is a problem... why?" Price asked, confused.

Ghost frowned. "Because they've bewitched you?"

Alex hummed. "I mean... sounds like you need it. Might make you a bit happier."

Ghost threw his hands up. "But they're not human!"

"Yeah, but you're getting laid. So why are you complaining?" Alejandro pointed out. He glanced at Rodolfo who had a funny smile on his face.

They did their stupid telepathic thing and Ghost looked away. "Yes, but it's... different. It's not just... sex. I want to be with them."

Price sighed. "Simon." He gave him a pity smile. "have you considered that maybe, just maybe, you like them? It's not a bad thing to want companionship."

"I do not need companions. You all are not listening. They're evil."

All of them exchanged glances before glancing over him.

Ghost got up and left, whistling to indicate to his crew they also needed to come with. He went straight to his quarters to be alone.

The footsteps that followed him made it clear that wouldn't be happening. A rational person would tell the sea witches to be gone, but he was a weak man. So he quietly undressed, hung up his Captain's hat, and went inside, leaving the door open.

Roach's hands were on his back, tracing the whip scars under his shirt. His soft lips pressed to his back, sending shivers down his spine before his deft little hands unbuttoned Ghost’s shirt.

"Hey, Bug."

Roach grabbed his waist and squeezed gently. He smiled against his back and Ghost hated that he was so weak as to allow this.

Soap started to undo the laces of Ghost's shoes, looking up at him. “Captain…”

“Johnny…”

Soap kissed his thigh and then moved to undoing the laces of his pants.

“Evil.” Was all Ghost managed, only met by their laughter.

“So evil.” Soap agreed while he smiled at him. “Irrefutably. And why exactly am I evil?”

Ghost refused to answer, instead looking away. "Dastardly...."

Soap laughed and Ghost could feel Roach's shoulder shaking. "Uh huh."

Ghost stepped out of his shoes and kicked his pants off. He closed his eyes as he was moved around. Roach tapped his jaw and lifted his mouth to just his mask. They kissed quietly as Roach licked into his mouth, moaning softly.

Soap gently kissed Ghost's stomach. "Bug, can I have him first?"

Roach nodded immediately and kissed Ghost's neck. He bit him gently to make him groan.

Soap kissed Roach to thank him, both of them exchanging a good bit of tongue. Ghost swallowed and watched him. They noticed and quickly gave him more attention. Kissing down his neck and along his chest. Roach grabbed his pecs and squeezed.

Ghost looked away as Soap trailed his fingers further down.

"Simon," Soap said gently and it made Ghost shiver at the use of his real name and not the one he chose for pirating, "you okay?" Roach forced Ghost to look at him, right into his eyes as Soap continued. "If you don't want it, we can leave?"

"Please don't leave." Ghost rasped.

Soap sank down on to him, a perfect fit. "Good. That's what I like to hear. You change your mind and it's over okay?" He twisted his hips and the heat tightened around him. Pleasure rushed through his veins until he almost went deaf from the blood rushing in his ears. They always made him feel like this. Never pressured into anything. Always pleased and... loved. Like that was something he was capable of feeling. Their every touch was magic but especially like this, alone and against his bare and scarred skin. Gentle and sweet and ready to listen to cues that Ghost didn't even understand.

Ghost nodded and felt Roach's lips on his neck. He closed his eyes and groaned softly. "I know. It's diabolical what you do."

Roach laughed and traced the words into his skin. Gentle and careful over his chest. The lines overlapped and didn't make sense but he knew he was speaking to him. He made a questioning hum.

Ghost answered. "Putting me under spells. Giving me this..." He groaned as Soap shifted. Like he read his mind, Soap knew he wanted soft and sweet. He rode him with no amount of haste, enjoying himself and making sure Ghost did too.

"You think I'd need a spell?" Soap ground down on him and he melted in pleasure. "Roach definitely doesn't."

Roach grinned and leaned in, biting his earlobe. His soft humming did something to Ghost's brain. It didn't... take anything away or control him. As much as he wanted to just blame that, it clearly wasn't as simple. Instead, it simply eased his anxieties. Made it easier to give in to the offer.

Because he didn't want sex. Not really. He wanted their affections. Their love.

And they knew this. The evil, tyrannical, dastardly-

Roach kissed him sweetly and Soap sped up. They fought a little over who got to kiss his neck and who kissed his lips, so they kept alternating, keeping him dizzy.

Ghost turned his head and tried to breath. He tightened his grip on both of them and came hard, head spinning. Soap kissed him softly and pulled away.

Roach quickly replaced them, much more excitedly. He kissed him frantically as he tried to get Ghost hard again before quickly riding him. His mouth was soft against his throat, trying to bite down. Teeth far too sharp to be human pierced him.

A voice rose above it all. A simple order that his entire body fought against but ultimately obeyed.

"Relax."

Ghost felt like he was floating. Roach attacked his neck and shoulders to litter him with bites as he bounced as quickly as he could.

Soap gripped Ghost's hair and tugged a little, listening to the guttural noise it got out of him. Ghost yanked him closer and bit his throat hard enough to bleed right as he came again. Vision whiting out and ears ringing.

He woke up moments later, licked clean, saliva still drying on his chest with both of them laying all over him.

"Why do you insist we have to be evil?"

Ghost grunted. Maybe he was wrong. It didn't make much sense for them to not be human. Roach didn't ev-

Lyrical and alluring, Roach spoke. "And it's not like we're going to eat you." Soap laughed, sharp teeth showing.

Ghost thought about it for a moment. He should kick them out. Be sane.

He pulled them closer to sleep.

[slasherbvnnie]

Hello!! Could I request a billy loomis smut about her being new to the school and then sitting beside eachother. It could be like strangers-to kinda friends-friends-good Friends- eventual smut when she gets jealous of Sydney. It’s fine if not! Have a good day! x

Hi! So sorry this request is late, but I really enjoyed writing it and couldn't stop to be completely honest. No smut in this part, but there will be in the second part of this! I honestly might make this longer and into a mini series, I like the idea!! Like, literally, this is longer than any chapter for Until We Found You...

Who's Watching Billy

Part II

Word Count: 2401

Context: Modern day scream au, all characters 18+, afab!reader

“Well feel free to take a seat anywhere, I’ll send you an email later today to update you on everything we’ve done so far. I’m sorry for the complications, admissions is kind of tricky sometimes,” you saw an older lady speaking to a guy. You looked down at the paper in your hand for the hundredth time before looking at the room number on the wall, staring at the two who were blocking the doorway to your class. Thankfully, you made out that the older lady was the professor, so you were thankful that she wouldn’t have any grudge against you for being late for class.

“You must be my other new student, right? Seems like your admins are having a fantastic time with schedules lately,” she joked as she looked to you. You flashed a sheepish smile, giving a nod as the guy turned his attention to you. You couldn’t help but blush, he was pretty cute and having his attention on you just made you want to cower away. A small smile turned on his lips before he looked back to the professor, thanking her for her help before walking into the class. “As I was telling Mr. Loomis, I’ll send you an email after class going over everything we’ve discussed so far. I’ll put all the information you need to know to be able to catch up with us, so just leave a good email with me once lecture is over,” she said as you nodded. “Great, thanks, I hope it hasn’t been too bad. My administrator just told me the class I was enrolled in before wasn’t going to count towards my program and all so- yeah.” You rambled on before nodding, “no worries dear, the only other seat that hasn’t been taken so far will be right next to Mr. Loomis. I’m glad you both arrived today, we’re having a lab later and you’ll need a partner for it,” she said as she moved out of the doorway, you nodded, heading to the back of the class to sit next to the guy from earlier.

“So, did they also fuck up your blocking or is it just your first day here,” he asked as you sat down, shaking your head. “uh- neither. I apparently enrolled in another class that would have just counted as an extracurricular and was told last minute that one I needed, this one, had one seat left open,” you explained as he nodded. “Glad you had a mess up, though. Otherwise I would be out of a partner,” he said, making you smile.

Two days later, you were back at class, seated next to Billy once again. “So, about the project, I was watching a few movies last night to get some ideas,” Billy said to you as you looked over, “oh? You found some movie scenes with chemistry in them?” You asked as he nodded, “have you ever watched who’s watching oliver?” He asked as you thought, “that slasher movie about some creepy dude who kills for his mom?” You smiled when he nodded, “yeah, you know the scene where he’s dissolving all the evidence? I figured that could fit with the project,” he said as you laughed, earning a small glare from him. “I don’t know…I mean, it’s kinda creepy to mention that. How about something more tame, like that movie where jeff Goldblum plays the guy who learned about dna or something,” you suggested as he rolled his eyes. “We could, if you want to be like majority of these idiots. Or, we could be more unique and disturb them while educating them,” he said with a smirk as you laughed again. “How about something better? We have a horror movie night while your set up to an apple watch, then we do some calculations to see if you were scared enough to emit isoprene.” You suggested, seeing his eyes light up. “isoprene,” he questioned as you nodded, “yeah, it’s this chemical we’re always processing but when you get scared, it goes up. We can monitor our heartrates with our apple watches while watching some scary movies and talk about that. We could even timestamp the scenes we got scared at,” you said as Billy smirked. “I’d like that,” he said with a smile as you nodded. “Wanna do it tonight then,” you asked as he looked away and sighed. “Ah, I’ll be busy with my girlfriend,” he admitted as you sighed, “oh…um, tomorrow night then?” You offered as he nodded with a smile. “Tomorrow night sounds good.” He agreed.

After class you said goodbye to Billy and began to head back to your home. You popped in your headphones and turned on your favorite playlist as you made your way to your car. What disturbed your usually normal walk however was seeing Billy with his girlfriend, as well as three others who were talking. You frowned a little, trying to brush off the tiny stupid crush you were developing on Loomis, getting a little angry for thinking that he didn’t have a girlfriend. He was handsome, of course he would have one. You were about to walk past, hearing the two other boys in the group arguing about something you couldn’t make out over your music, but you were disturbed when one came up to you. “Excuse me,” he said, making you pull out an earbud and look to him. “Ah, random awkward question, but do you think you would say you find me attractive. Me and this idiot are having a debate and-“ “leave her alone Meeks, I don’t want you freaking out my lab partner,” you turned to see Billy talking to the male in front of you, the girls and the other male laughing.

“Lab partner, huh,” said the third, you looking to the group in confusion. “Not freaked out, just confused,” you said with a small awkward laugh. “Randy thinks he has a chance with you, caught him drooling over you,” said the unknown male, “and he doesn’t. She’s too smart for him,” Billy said as he wrapped his arm around Sidney. “Sorry about them. That is Randy, a dumbass. The other dumbass is Stu. Then Tatum and…Sidney,” he said, kissing Sidney on the cheek when he introduced her. You tried to hide your frown and instead smiled, nodding. “Um, nice to meet all of you, I guess,” you said as the girls smiled. “So you take chem with Billy? You’re pretty lucky, he’s smart with that kind of stuff,” Tatum said as you nodded, “yeah, he is,” you said with a smile. “Sorry guys, I have to get going,” you said, about to put your headphones back in before Billy called out to you again. “Hey, still good for tomorrow?” He asked as you nodded, “Yup! I’ll text you what time,” you said, seeing Sidney give him a look at your response.

Ever since that night of horror movies, your feelings for Billy had only grown. You were mad at first because you knew him and Sidney were dating, but soon you just became mad that you two weren’t dating. Your anger turned into sadness eventually through the three months of the knowing each other, having been invited to hang out with the friend group more often and becoming a good friend to them. Throughout the months, Billy never seemed to once show interest in you, he wasn’t like Stu who constantly was flirting with others, or Randy who was trying to ask the two for advice on how to make you more interested in him, he just seemed content with Sid. However, October marked a turning point. Casey Becker and Steve Orth were the first thing that began to change the group. The next was the attempt at Sidney which led to Billy getting booked for a night.

You were surprised when Randy called you to let you know what happened, explaining how Sidney was nearly attacked by ‘leatherface’ which he used as a nickname for Billy. “What is this, fucking the house on sorority row or something,” he asked, as you shook your head. “So, did he do it?” “His dad’s some lawyer, even if he did he’s probably getting away with it,” he said as you sighed. “Thanks for letting me know, Randy. Um, I’m gonna call Tate to try and see what’s wrong,” you said, hanging up on him. The next day at school, you noticed that the spot next to you wasn’t empty. Instead, Billy sat, scrubbing his fingers to try and get the ink off. “Hey,” you said softly, his eyes darted up to you before he relaxed and looked back down at his hands, wiping them on his jeans. “Hey…” he said, surprised when you sat next to him. “Not afraid of the killer?” He asked as you laughed, “Loomis a killer? I mean I admit you are kinda creepy enough for it but, no, I don’t think you did it.” You said as he chuckled, “well I’m glad you don’t think so, Sid sure does,” he sighed as you rolled your eyes. “I mean, I could see it if you were in theater. Didn’t she say the killer left then you came out? You’d have to be a track star and the best undresser ever,” you joked, smiling when he laughed.

A bit into class you heard an announcement on the intercoms, you and Billy looked at each other when the overhead voice said that classes were cancelled for student safety. “Wonder what happened,” you said as he hummed. “Maybe ghostface is on the loose again,” he said as you nodded, “scary…” you mumbled, putting your things away and picking up your backpack. Just then Billy’s phone dinged, he looked down at his phone and chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, there’s a party at Stu’s tonight.” “Macher really does have great timing, truly,” you said as he smirked. “Hey, how about you come with me? I’ll pick you up before it starts,” he suggested as you paused, “what about Sidney?” You asked him as he sighed and shrugged, “she accused me as the killer last night, I think I would say we’re pretty much done.” He said as you shrugged. “Um, I don’t know, Billy…” “Come on, if not as my date then as my friend, yeah?” You saw his eyes piercing into yours, a shiver of excitement going down your spine as you nodded and agreed, receiving a big grin from him.

Billy was running a little late, putting gas is what he had texted you. You were waiting on your porch, pacing back and forth slightly as you waited for him. You looked up when you saw headlights in the dark heading towards your driveway, smiling when he honked at you to get in. “About time, take that long to pump gas?” You teased him, smiling when you saw the ends of his lips upturned slightly. “Didn’t know I had to make a good impression, this isn’t a date, remember?” He said as you rolled your eyes. “And we’re an hour late, you owe me alcohol if Stu is all out,” you hummed, “it’s stu, if he’s out just blow him and more will magically pop up,” he joked, the two of you laughing as he drove off.

By the time you made it to the Macher residence, you noticed not as many people. That didn’t bother you really, you just enjoyed the promise of free alcohol and making out with someone by the end of the night. You two hopped out of the car, heading to the door before seeing Sidney about to walk out. Both of your expressions were the same, confused and a little angered to see the other. Billy and Stu looked at you two before at each other, Stu grasping his hands together as he cleared his throat. “Well look what we have here,” he said as Sidney looked to him. “Did you invite Billy?” Stu stayed silent for a moment, pressing his lips together and sucking them in slightly before letting out a chuckle, “I thought it would be nice for you two to uh…reconcile, you know.” He said as you pushed past them, walking to the kitchen where you saw a few others chugging alcohol and hanging out together. You couldn’t hear much over the loud speakers Stu had set up throughout the house, different songs blasting from his playlist. You poured yourself a drink, heading out to explore what was going on around the house.

Not much caught your eye, just people competing in drinking games, others just hanging out with friends or dancing with their dates of the night. You made yourself comfortable, leaning against one of the walls in the living room, getting a small look at the doorway and seeing Billy and Sidney talking, Stu closing the door as the two talked together. Both of you watched them, surprised when Sidney had moved away and slapped Billy, moving away from him to call out again for Tatum so they could leave.

You were a bit happy to see Billy hurt, but a large part of you was also sad and angered by it. You didn’t enjoy seeing him hurt physically, but it made you a bit more comforted knowing he felt a tiny bit of the pain you were hiding. Stu was quick to try and calm down Sidney, putting his arm around her shoulder as they talked.

You and Billy made eye contact from across the room, he gave a dejected smile and a shrug, heading your way. “Did you know telling a girl that you don’t appreciate being called a killer and assuming that breaks you guys up is not a good idea?” He asked as you laughed, “I could have guessed,” you hummed, sipping on your drink before offering him the cup. “Promise it’s not laced or anything, not yet at least,” you said jokingly as he drank. “I would prefer if it was,” he said as he handed it back to you. “How about we get a refill and head upstairs? We can steal some of Stu’s cds and dvds, hopefully not his porn collection,” he said, making you laugh once again. “Hey, who knows, Stu might have good taste in porn,” you said with a wide smile as the two of you headed out to the kitchen.

[chris-continues]

Unconventional, Unusual, and Unapologetically Yours

Inspired by this text post I made!

In which you enter a relationship with an unfamiliar creature.. yet he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

TAGS: @beanibon @vashfantasy @h4venpha @lune010

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Available on ao3!

NOTES: I cranked this out in like less than an hour I think. Uncanny Vash makes my fingers type like the fucking wind LMAO- ALSO I MIGHT DO PT2 <33 ^^lmk if you don’t want to be tagged! Some people asked and I know others like uncanny Vash a lot, so I thought you’d enjoy. I tried to add a bit of creature Vash as well, please feel free to comment/reblog if you enjoyed! And lmk any ideas you have :D

Your boyfriend deviated from what one would call the standard partner. 

Well, not that such a thing was negative. He was by far one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, that much you noted from your first encounter. An abandoned warehouse, where you’d been forced to do an odd job when tight for cash. “Get a photo of the infamous Humanoid Typhoon!”, they said, giving you directions out of town. The warehouse then had appeared nothing short of shady, with its shabby walls, unfamiliar state, and a slight mildewy smell you weren’t too fond of. 

That would soon change, becoming your safe haven, as you recalled how you’d met. 

Your tentative steps inside, phone flashlight beaming as you explored for a good few minutes before- “Ah!” You jolted, the wide smile of a tall man, startling you. He apologetically waved his hands before you, attempting to reassure you, “Aw god, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

“It’s uh, fine, yeah.” You cleared your throat, turning your flashlight down slightly, “Who are you?” “Vash.” He chirped, quite literally. “And you?”, he offered his hand, ever so charming. If you recalled correctly, his pupils dilated a bit too much at the touch of your hand against his.

Humanoid. Not human.

It took you an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots, your attempt to search for the man of the hour futile (or successful, depending on how you viewed it). Searching for any extending corridors, or perhaps a hidden room. His company was originally slightly unsettling, as he was a stranger just tagging along for the ride, but he had no ill intent and with each sweet remark you found your night to not be a complete failure, swearing you’d return next weekend, same time to find the Humanoid Typhoon together. 

It turned into a game of stalling. 

Searching the same wall as last week, fingers tapping at the eroding wood of the building. His fingertips had brushed yours a handful of times as he blamed it on the darkness, a slight squeak leaving him each time, and maybe it was your fatigue riddled mind but you almost swore a slight glow emanated from him each time. 

After the 3rd week of searching you really didn’t care about finding this Typhoon guy anymore, figuring he was just some urban legend. Why did you keep going? For Vash, of course. He was a great listener, funny, and seemed to enjoy your company, and you really enjoyed his, and by god were you absolutely horrendous when it came to romance. So continued your pining of poking and prodding at an abandoned warehouse at the late hours of night. Too nervous to ask for his number (you found out later he didn’t have a phone), too shy to initiate anything further. 

Aha, until one night. 

Your searching had become less investigative of the building and moreso of each other, legs crossed and sitting in the middle of the warehouse with music playing from your phone on occasion. Discussions ranging from god knows what, each interesting in their own right. What confused you was that something as mundane as you telling a story in which you got your neighbors mail left him at the edge of his seat, but you simply chalked it up as him being a good listener and eager to engage in conversation, (that being partially true). Exhaustion creeped at you one night though, your horrendous sleeping habits having caught up with you as you rested your head against the derelict floorboards and gazed up at the ceilings. 

Vash had a habit of humming to fill in silences, and much like the rest of him you found yourself inexplicably drawn to it.. So sue you for being soothed to sleep by such a thing.

He didn’t tell you until much later, but that night he’d let his hand graze the back of yours, feathers peeking from beneath his jacket with the slight bumps ever so comforting against your skin. You let out the cutest hums, rolling just a bit closer to him.

His breath caught in his throat, as he let himself touch your hand just a bit more. His long, inhuman tongue laved over his several rows of sharp, unnatural teeth in a fidgeting motion. His pupils expanded, admiring you. You always appeared a bit nervous or tense around him- of course that diminished over time, he noted, but why were you so nervous? God, he hated being like this sometimes. To be.. A normal human companion of yours was something he found he craved. Every week, waiting for you in this dingy, subpar hiding place..

You were the highlight of his week. 

He had to hold himself back from instinctively curling into your side, wrapping his lanky limbs around you and allowing his vertebrae to extend to his full height.. Several feet taller than you. He wants to engulf you whole, keep you forever close and cherish you with chirps you couldn’t possibly understand. 

When you awake, he lays beside you. His body is as stiff as the wooden planks lining the warehouse floors, glancing at you as you finally make a move.

You scoot an inch closer.

His breath hitches in his throat. 

He can feel a draft making its way through the building,your body shivering as you shift just a bit closer.

“You.. are you cold?” He hesitates, arm stiffening as the fabric of his jacket meets the sleeve of your shirt. 

“Yeah, kinda..” You murmur, eyes darting away from him then back to him- god, you could stare at him and never tire of it. 

Your arms are pressed against one another, his fingers- wait, they’re uncharacteristically smooth, toying with the end of your sleeve. Oh god. The cutest guy you’ve ever met and he’s- oh god- you’ve dreamt of this more than you’d care to admit, hugging a pillow to sleep most nights, mind drifting to the cute guy you meet every weekend outside of town. 

Your fingers graze his once more, breathing pausing once more.

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

You think you’re going to die.

He chirps happily, and with your curiosity getting the better of you, you can’t help but ask, “What’s that noise mean?”

He blinks owlishly, sheepish smile crossing his face, “Oh uh, I don’t know really. It just.. happens?”  

“Ah, mhm. That’s fair.”

You peek down to your intertwined hands, only to see-

“Vash?”

His mouth gapes open to speak, and you get another peek of his- oh god, now that it’s morning you can see better.

Rows upon rows of his sharp teeth. His mouth forcibly staying together in one piece rather than three. Unnaturally long limbs. Feathers sprouting from him. 

“You.. you’re not human, are you?”

Oh god. He scared you. He’s so ugly, and you’re frozen, backing away slightly- “Oh my god you’re not- are you?”

The Humanoid Typhoon.

“Yeah. I.. I am.”

It takes you a moment to collect your bearings, mouth agape. “You.. you  never planned to hurt me, right?” Your eyes are wide, hands in your lap as you now sit up, legs criss crossed. 

“God no! Never! Oh god, I'm so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, hiding it from the peeking rays of sunlight peering through the wood of the warehouse. “I don’t try to hurt anyone really, it just.. happens.” He swallowed thickly, “You can leave, if you’d like. I won’t hold it against you.”

You shake your head adamantly, “No, no I trust you. Just surprised me is all. I’ve never seen anything like it, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Vash.” Your hands fidget within your lap, “I enjoy your company and you not being human won’t change that.”

He peeked at you from his fingers, pupils dilated. “..really?”

You nodded. 

He certainly didn’t appear very convinced, but as you offered one of your previously fidgeting hands out to him.. he took it. Hand much larger in yours, inhumanly smooth- you found upon closer inspection he had no fingerprints. 

You stayed like that for god knows how long, until you checked your phone, “Shit! I’m sorry Vash, I’ve got to-” Aw god, his face, he was so cute..

“I’ll return soon.”

He walked you to your car parked outside. 

Your next few visits were a lot more different. He never directly said it, but before long you started staying the night, pressed close to one another, easing closer and closer to one another with hesitant touches. His eyes pleaded for your company each time you left, a small pout forming on his lips. 

You hated leaving him each time. 

Your first kiss was sweet, clumsy, and absolutely adorable. Just like him. 

He laid atop you, the world’s best weighted blanket, wrapping his unproportionate, lanky limbs around you to pull you flush against him. “I like you Vash. A lot.” You admitted into his hair quietly, shyly kissing the crown of his head. He chirped excitedly, a few clicks escaping him as he shifted to have your eyes meet, lips peppering pecks on your cheeks, jaw, and the corners of your lips. 

You both were too nervous to initially confess, just basking in one another’s company. 

“Like you too.” A series of inhuman noises escaped him, elated by your flustered giggles. 

He almost felt bad for temporarily silencing you with a shy and quick peck to your lips. His eyes widened, before going in for another. 

Another, another, another, purring contentedly as he pressed closer to you in hopes to mold you both into one. 

Your hands tentatively reached to cradle his face, grinning into the dorky kiss you two shared. 

Now though? You glance at him, wrapped in a mini nest you two share atop your bed. He nuzzles into your neck, teeth gently nibbling at the flesh as the rays of morning peek through your bedroom window. His legs hang off the bed with how tall he is, but he couldn’t care less.

Is it unconventional? Sure. Unusual? Most definitely.

But you’ve never been more happy than you have with him.

[desomniis]

to ask for your hand (I just pray that its mine) | Chapter 4 excerpt

After clinching his third career win at the Vegas GP, Carlos wakes up to a wedding band on his finger and his teammate, Charles, wearing the exact match.

WIP | 4/5 | 28,797 words | Accidental Drunk Marriage in Vegas AU | Fluff | Angst | Drama

Down below, the circuit was a bright outline against the night. Another season, another gruelling race in Singapore.

The skyline was an architectural marvel. It was stunning during the day, but at night? it looked like a rare jewel sparkling against the black velvet night. To witness such magnificence on top of the Marina Bay Sands—dipped in the infinity pool, no less—with no one else around was a indeed privilege.

In his mind, he traced the track, imagining his car passing through Anderson bridge, making the tight left at 13 to the Esplanade Drive. Then the apex at 14, then 15, 16—a splash from the other end of the pool startled him. Charles?

Carlos was pretty sure it was Charles, the rookie this season. They never really ‘talked’ before. Their conversations always happened in passing, going along the lines off, ‘How are you? Good? How’s your car? Not good on the tires.’ He knew little about him—only that he was from Monaco and that he was set to replace Kimi at Ferrari next year. A rookie replacing a world champion. Unheard of. This kid must be a huge deal.

“It’s a beautiful city, no?” Carlos ventured. He winced inside, remembering Papá's advice about small talk and F1 drivers.

Charles jolted, his hand flying to his chest, accidentally splashing water to his own face. “Oh my god, you scared me.”

Carlos chuckled. “You’re quite jumpy, eh?” he teased, settling on the ledge next to him.

“A little,” Charles admitted with a sheepish smile. “What are you doing here? It’s a bit late, no?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I didn’t get much sleep on the flight here.”

“Tell me about it. 20 hour flights are no joke.”

“True,” Charles said. “Any tips for tomorrow? I’ve never raced here before. My first time. So, I’m a little nervous.”

A smirk crept up Carlos lips. “Have you passed out in a race before?”

“Uh, no? I don’t think so.”

“Well, here, try not to. It’s almost guaranteed.”

”What? That’s impossible.”

“Also, you might drive blind on some corners.”

“Why—”

“Don’t even get me started about the rain. Singapore is a totally different race if it rains.”

Worry flitted through Charles' eyes, swallowing a lump on his throat. “Oh yeah?” he said, trying to hide his discomfort.

Carlos held onto his laughter. He nodded seriously, “yeah. Seven DNF’s last year.”

Charles visibly got more anxious, the horrors of last year’s race flashing in his eyes. “Ah, putain,” he muttered under his breath.

Carlos’ laughter eventually bubbled forth.

“What? Why are you laughing?” Charles questioned, his brows knitting together.

“I was kidding. It’s not that bad, I promise.”

“I—Oh… you were trying to scare me.” Charles smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Making fun of the rookie, I see.”

“Don’t worry,” Carlos wiped the tears from his eyes. “Vettel and Fernando did it to me in my rookie year too. Except they waited a day before telling me it’s not that bad. I remember not sleeping that night.”

Charles laughed, and Carlos was struck. There was something about his laugh that resonated deep in Carlos’ chest, like the melody of his childhood summers spent racing bicycles down sun-dappled streets, the wind tousling his hair as he pedalled faster. It was the echo of his first karting victory, the taste of victory sweet on his tongue as he stood atop the podium, trophy held high, amid deafening cheers and applause. It was Miguel’s call, on his last day, asking him to meet at the lake so that he could steal another kiss from Carlos. There was something in Charles’ laugh that made Carlos yearn to hear it more.

“Well, I guess I’ll consider myself lucky that it was not Vettel or Fernando then,” Charles said.

“Yeah. Lucky. Just sleep well and drink lots of water before the race and you’ll do fine. I’ve seen you drive. You’re good. I trust that you can make it.”

Charles's eyebrows lifted, his head tilting slightly to the left like a puppy hearing something strange. “Really?” he asked, “you think I’m good?”

Carlos can count in one hand the amount of times he complimented another driver. It wasn't that he didn't recognise talent in others—if he was being honest, there were plenty of drivers far better than him. But he rarely voiced such acknowledgements. It’s like offering your enemy an edge.

So when he did compliment Charles, it surprised him, almost catching him off guard. There was no logical explanation for it.

Perhaps it was because Charles was young and it was his first year in F1. He could vividly recall his own struggles as a rookie. Maybe, in his own way, it was him trying to help his younger self.

Or perhaps it was how easily Charles just opened up to Carlos. Paired with his dimples, the sheepish smile, and those earnest blue eyes pleading for advice. Carlos felt an instinctual urge to protect Charles.

Or perhaps, it was something else entirely.

“You don’t?” Carlos dodged the question.

"I do. It's just that... It's rare to hear it from another driver. Everyone else says I'm good, you know? 'You're so talented, Charles. So fast. You are destined to be in F1,'" he recounted. "But they say it from the outside looking in. They don’t really get it. But when another driver say it, it means a lot more. Because they understand. You understand."

Carlos nodded slowly, the weight of Charles' words settling on him. He knew that feeling all too well. The constant need to prove his own worth, that he deserved to compete with the best of the world, that it wasn’t all because of a privileged upbringing.

“Of course,” he said idly. “So, how does this feel? All of it—the hype, the pressure, the Ferrari seat next year?”

A hesitant smile touched Charles' lips, fleeting as the Monegasque breeze. “When I drove for practice for them last year, I felt like I was going to explode in the car. I felt buzzing in my ears and my hand couldn’t stop shaking. I thought I would crash. I’m quite happy that I didn’t.

“But what’s interesting was how it all felt strange to me. All my life I’ve dreamed of driving and winning in that red car. Not only me, my father and my godfather too. I carry all their dreams with me. Now that I have the chance to do that… it’s…” Charles trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Overwhelming," Carlos offered, a hint of longing creeping into his voice. "Being in that red car… it’s something else."

The last sentence hung heavy in the air, the weight of his secret, of his father's expectation, sat heavy in his gut.

Charles chuckled, a soft, nervous sound. "Yeah. It's like everyone expects me to be a champion overnight. But then there's the pressure from myself too, you know? Like I have to live up to all these expectations, not just mine but everyone else's too." He ran a hand through his hair, anxiety swimming in his eyes.

Carlos leaned back on the ledge of the pool, studying Charles. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that surprised him. This young prodigy, who seemed to have it all figured out, was wrestling with self-doubt just like everyone else.

"Hey," Carlos said gently, "You'll be alright. You're here for a reason. You have the talent, the drive... you'll get there eventually.”

A flicker of gratitude sparked in Charles' eyes. "Thanks, Carlos. I appreciate that. Coming from you, it means a lot."

The compliment hung in the air for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Carlos couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about Charles disarmed him.

"Are you hungry?" Carlos finally asked, surprising even himself with the question. "Do you want to have dinner with me?"

Charles’ eyes sparkled and his lips curved up, making Carlos’ chest feel warm, like it was about to blow open. Whether it was a good or bad sign, it didn’t matter because there was only one thing he was sure of:

He wanted to see Charles smile again.

Read the whole chapter here. Ask me questions!

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 5

Masterpost

(What the frick is the bat guy about???)

They did serious damage to Lexy’s credit card in the form of a cast iron pan, a pot, basic cooking utensils and a four-person set of dishware before they even made it to the grocery store.

Peter tried not to go nuts there. He really did. But Kon had that empty kitchen! And to be honest, shopping was major wish fulfillment. Even though he knew he wouldn’t be eating all of the food he got way into it. They stocked up on easy freezer food like pizza rolls and fries. They got pasta mixes and jarred sauces and they got snacks and sweets. He even got Kon baking basics. It might take Kon a while to get into his fresh bread era, but it was going to happen. Peter was calling it now. Kon was just that kind of guy.

The last thing he got was meat. Meat and cheese and fresh vegetables. Peter ended up putting back half of what he initially put in the cart because, honestly, Kon didn’t have a massive super appetite and he didn’t know how to cook yet. Vegetables were just going to go bad, so he only got what he planned to use that night. He also stocked Kon up on breakfast supplies- bread and jam, eggs, sausage, coffee and tea and juice.

‘I wish I was staying with Kon to eat this. I’m going to be hungry again tomorrow.’

Peter pushed down that greedy little thought where it belonged. He was going to be eating lunch and dinner with Kon tonight, since they were cooking together. That was already really generous on Kon’s part. He couldn’t ask for more.

The boys ended up making spaghetti. Peter wasn’t the best cook in the world, but he could cut onion and garlic to cook meat in, shred in carrots and zucchini, and add a jar of red sauce to make something nutritionally dense that tasted really good. Kon hovered over his shoulder watching this process and making faux sports commentary. 

“Go away!” Peter shoved Kon with his shoulder, laughing. “Go start the garlic bread.”

“...Garlic bread?” Kon asked hopefully. He seemed way younger than he was sometimes. “You can make that at home?”

“You can, if you get to cutting garlic really small.” Peter tossed him a bulb without looking.

They ate dinner while watching some drama that Kon picked out on a streaming service. “Holy shit,” Kon said quietly after his first bite. He put down the plate and took a photo.

Peter snorted. Kon must have sent it to someone because his phone went off constantly after that.

He wasn’t even done eating their late lunch when he first wondered where he was going to sleep tonight. Peter stared down into his pasta like it might have some answers. When should he leave? What would he say if Kon asked for his phone number? He didn’t have one. He couldn’t give Kon the number to the phone he had on him– he was pretty sure that he really should get rid of it in case someone was tracking him. 

He should ask first. If he directed the conversation it would be easier to be normal than if he was just answering questions. So Peter swallowed hard, made himself smile, and said, “This was fun. Wanna hang out again?”

Kon noisily slurped down some sauce and wiggled in place while he chewed and swallowed. “Yeah, we should!” he agreed. “You uh, free later this week?”

He was jobless and homeless with no other acquaintances. 

“I have some time,” Peter said casually. “I’m kinda busy tomorrow, but the day after? Should I come over in the afternoon?”

“Yeah!” Kon bounced up off his seat for a moment. “We can finish the projects. Or work on them, at least.” He screwed his face up with a thought. “Can I get your handle or number, in case my work pops up?”

Peter’s smile turned fixed. “Actually, not now,” he said as casually as he could manage. “I dropped my phone in water. I just have my Dad’s old phone right now for emergencies.” He didn’t need to add that lie, but what if he needed to pull out the flip phone later? He didn’t want Kon to think that he just hadn’t wanted to give his number.

Kon laughed. “That sucks, man,” he empathized. 

Oh thank Thor, he bought it. 

The fabric was dry by then, so Peter helped Kon cut it out and sew it into place. Kon modeled his new look in the living room and then took approximately two hundred selfies while Peter worked on his project. Kon eventually flopped down on the sofa upside down and started sketching out design ideas. Peter glanced over and saw what looked like a boob window cut into some kind of top.

…Kon would look great in it. Peter didn’t comment. He smiled a little more when he went back to cutting out pieces for his own jacket.

“Smile!”

Peter looked over on reflex and cheesed. A shutter went off. “Can I send that to my friends?” Kon asked, so casually that Peter knew it mattered a lot. “Cassie says no way did I meet someone without her.”

“Go ahead.” Peter gave a thumbs up for reasons even he did not understand. Good thing he wasn’t a weird little guy! 

Kon looked relieved. There was less tension when he went back to looking at his phone. “Thanks, man. You want to think about dinner soon? You’ve been working for a couple of hours.”

Peter had to blink a few times to process that. Oh yeah, he was pretty stiff. He stretched experimentally. “You’re right,” he said, mildly surprised. “Huh. What did you have in mind?”

Kon shrugged. “Pizza?”

Peter hummed. “We can pull that off,” he decided. “We have… two more jars of marinara, one will do. Cheese, the bell peppers- yeah, that’ll work.” He stood in a smooth movement. “Could you get the flour down from where we put it- yeah, thanks.” Kon hovered back down and handed him the bag.

“I meant that we should order it,” Kon said, but he didn’t protest. “You can make pizza? At home?” He was delighted by this new information.

“You can make basically anything at home,” Peter said, because it apparently needed to be said. “Can you look up a pizza dough recipe?” He got out the salt and tried to remember where he’d put yeast.

Pizza did not go quite as smoothly as the pasta had. Kon brutalized the dough by over mixing it and the gluten developed bonds strong enough to rival the Hulk. But it was still edible! Kon was openly delighted with what he had made. Peter stole sideways glances at him, wondering if he should reassure that it was a great first try.

‘..I’m not sure he knows that it’s really tough,’ Peter decided. He said nothing. They watched one episode of Kon’s selected drama before Peter decided it was time to go.

Kon seemed surprised when Peter said that. He blinked at him a few times. “It felt like I was at the tow- a sleepover,” he said self consciously. He forced a laugh. “Yeah. You wanna leave your stuff here?”

Peter looked around Kon’s surgically clean living room and wondered if Lexy’s cleaning staff would throw away his stuff. “Yeah, sure,” he said, because it wasn’t like he had a place to store a project. “I appreciate that.”

He left not much later, making his excuses and backing out into the night with dread that he didn’t want to face curling in his gut. The feeling intensified as he got down to the lobby of Kon’s apartment building.

It was dark out, even with the streetlights on. The air was cold against his face. Peter huddled into his jacket, hand wound tightly around the strap of the bag with everything he owned in it.

At least he knew the time. It was a little past 10 pm.

He needed a shower and to sleep. The gym should be empty now. He could break back in, shower, and then go sleep on the library couch again. Even if the librarian came in early again, he could get a few hours of sleep.

He woke up again to the sound of keys in the door downstairs. This time he woke up feeling much better rested. Peter wandered blearily until he found a clocktower and realized it was nearly 9 am. Nice. He was working on his sleep debt, then. He surely hadn’t spent more than an hour between traveling to the gym, showering, and getting to the couch last night. That was maybe 9.5, 10 hours of sleep?

He left to a new hotel for a breakfast buffet. This one was particularly sad. He had two pieces of peanut butter toast and a glass of milk before he heard the front door staff quietly phone someone else asking if they had any teenagers staying at the moment. He left pretty quickly after that and walked for a while, heart pounding. The police didn’t descend on him with sirens and lights, so he was probably okay.

‘I can’t go back there.’

Later that day, Peter grimaced and took a moment to indulge in burying his face in his hands. He was overwhelmed and he still felt shitty and dirty and gross despite his shower. Maybe it was getting spotted as a homeless teen eating from the buffet? Yeah. Probably that.

He was in the library again, sitting in front of one of the older computers and hoping he'd get a reply from a potential client who had asked for some information. 

Maybe it was a little weird to spend all day in the library. He was on notice for librarians acting like they wanted him to clear out, just in case.

But, assuming no one had any problems with it, why not spend most of his daylight hours there? He could study computer science, use the computers to do his work, and be somewhere temperature controlled for free. They also had pitchers of coffee and tea for free that he took advantage of. 

He was hungry, though. He was always hungry. Maybe it had been a mistake to go to Kon’s house. It almost felt worse to be hungry again after eating everything he wanted two meals in a row. Peter suppressed despair. He was doing his best! He was taking care of himself.

"Is everything alright?" 

Peter shot up and gave a sheepish grin to the librarian. He hadn't noticed her approaching, but he'd been lost in his head. "It's fine," he said. 

The older woman gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, let me know if there's anything I can help with. It's what I'm here for." 

Oh. Before she could turn away he blurted out, "College!" 

Her face lit up. "Are you applying?" 

"I need to." Peter wrung his hands together. "But I don't know where to start. I want to go somewhere with a strong sciences program but I think I need to go there on scholarship." 

She sat down beside him, an easy smile on her face like this was a topic that she enjoyed. “Do you care about where it is?”

Peter shook his head. “It would be best if I could stay in NYC since I know here, but I’m willing to go anywhere that meets those conditions.”

She nodded slowly. “There’s a few places I can think of.” She hesitated. “Do you expect to be eligible for testing related scholarships?”

“Yeah,” said Peter, who was so good at tests but would probably falsify the results that he needed if he didn’t manage to take tests in time. “I test well. Very well.”

“That’s great! And you said sciences? Technological sciences?” she didn’t glance at his current computer science book, but she didn’t have to. 

“Yes,” he said, not entirely sure what he should be focusing on. Engineering, to build some kind of portal? Astrophysics like Dr. Foster, to find an Einstein-Rosen bridge? He’d have to get his foot in the door to figure out what was going on in the fields here. Shit, he should have looked into that already. 

“And you would be looking to live by yourself, on campus? Or off? With family?”

“By myself,” Peter said, and wow that was depressing. “And whichever way is cheapest.” He cringed as he said it. That felt pathetic too. He wanted to say he wanted to live on campus since he’d be more likely to meet people that way. But honestly, he had no resources, at all. He couldn’t afford to be picky. 

The librarian’s smile was a bit fixed now. “I… I almost hate to suggest it, but have you considered Gotham?” She continued before Peter had to decide whether or not he should admit he didn’t know that university. “It’s a dangerous city to live in, but it’s very affordable, and there’s extensive funding for the sciences and student support services.”

“...Because it’s a dangerous city and doesn’t get many people?” Peter confirmed.

She was doing her best to keep a poker face. “That’s right. They have a brain drain situation at the moment, so the sciences are really well funded. I think you could probably go there with full support, though that might be contingent on taking an internship or job in Gotham after graduation.”

Huh. He considered it. He’d never heard of Gotham, so it had to be a city that didn’t exist back home. But so what? How bad could it be? It was like, Chicago or something? He could handle that. He was Spiderman. He was an Avenger, sort of. So he directed a real smile at the librarian. “If I could get a full scholarship there, I would go in a heartbeat,” Peter said. “Thanks for the suggestion! I’ll look into the university there.”

The librarian patted the side of his chair as she stood up. “Wonderful! Let me know if you change your mind or have any questions!”

He ended up having a lot of questions, actually, once he started looking into Gotham, but he didn’t think, “What the frick is the vampire bat guy about?” was what she’d had in mind.

[walkingstackofbooks]

I was thinking last night about how it would have affected Julian if he'd arrived a few seconds too late to that Cargo Bay in Hard Time and Miles had died in front of him (because that's always a fun (distressing) scene to imagine 👀) and that kind of spiralled into a whole canon-divergent 'verse...

Because then I got to The Quickening, and while I don't think Kira and Dax would have let a more emotionally-vulnerable Julian actually stay on the planet by himself for that whole time, if they did (or if he refused to beam up/ threw away his badge so they couldn't find him/ idk otherwise made it so they had to leave him) (because if anything he's going to be even MORE convinced he has to save every life he possibly can) it would obviously be even more devastating.

And I can imagine that, after all that time that Julian has spent with Ekoria and looking after her, Trevean might ask if Julian's going to take her baby or leave him to be raised on Teplan. In the canon universe Julian's obviously like *nervous laughter* "no I think he'll be better off with you... I could not raise a child" but in this 'verse he's entered his Feeling-All-The-Loneliness-Feels phase early and so is like "fuck I can't raise a kid but also I Literally Cannot Leave This Child It Would Kill Me" and so he takes Ekoria's baby back to DS9.

He takes his kid to the medical conference he goes to with Jake which, valid, but then they get the distress call from Ajilon Prime* and he's like "I can't take my baby to a warzone" and Jake's like "I'll look after him, it sounds like these people need you" and Julian's pretty torn but also he does Need To Save People so they go and, uh. Like I think reactions are pretty mixed about the baby but Julian is literally a Lifesaver so no-one's gonna complain too much and some of the patients want to hold Maris (the kid's called Maris after Ekoria's husband I decided) and it's sweet, y'know, to have a moment outside of the war and pain with this tiny lil bab.

[*Umm yeah this was just me jumping to the most fun (traumatic) events to imagine as I tried to go to sleep so forgive me but...]

Obviously Jake doesn't go off to the runabout with the kid so he still gets lost and when he returns Julian's cradling the baby and idk but my heart just imagining the scene where Julian's like "I should never have brought you here, what was I thinking?" is just MORE with him having his own son there too.

And then we skip to IPS/BIL and Julian's in the prison camp not knowing if his baby is alive and then coming back to realise the changeling has been parenting his son for a month (and having to run multiple test on Maris to check if his baby is actually his or if Maris is a changeling too) and also no-one even noticed he was missing even though apparently his kid had been crying like all the time (and fuck, how fucked up is that going to leave Maris because that sort of thing affects kids when it happens that young, right? anxietyyyy)

(also Miles would have noticed I wasn't me, Julian thinks. because he needs more reasons to feel sad.)

And then DBIP in this 'verse makes me UNHINGED because IMAGINE a Julian Bashir who hit his depression point a season earlier but has been teetering along okay since Maris came along now that he has this whole little life to look after and he will do Anything for his child. (okay apart from stay away from warzones when there are people to save but you know. basically anything)

Anyway yeah so Julian's got Maris with him in Sisko's office when Jadzia turns up with his parents and he is FAR less able to cope than canon Julian is because 1. more emotional instability, but mostly 2. he is a Dad with a Kid and NOPE he cannot have his parents anywhere near his baby that is Not Happening.

He has his oh, my god moment and then hands Maris to Sisko being like "Your grandson is lovely, Commander" and Ben and Jadzia are like ??? but play along and Julian finds some quarters for his parents and by the time they've got there with all the small talk of "hah, for a second there I thought you'd be telling us we have grandkids! when are you going to settle down with a nice girl, Jules?" he's ready to burst but his kid's still with Sisko so he just excuses himself with "I've got to work" and hurries back...

Dax and Sisko totally haven't been gossiping about him and they're all like "So what was that about? Grandson??" and he's like "You saw how they kept calling me Jules, right? I haven't gone by that name since I was 15. And my dad saying he had to convince me to do medicine?? He hated the idea of me being a doctor. I had to study for Starfleet in secret because he just couldn't let go of the idea of his son being a famous tennis player. And now he's convinced himself my career was all his idea!" and is getting angrier and sadder and Maris starts crying and so he's hushing him like "it's okay, i'm sorry, i'm not angry with you, i love you, you're safe, i'm not going to hurt you" -- just idle things he's not really thinking about

Ofc Sisko and Dax are immediately on it like, "Why are you saying that? Did your parents hurt you...?"

And Julian's like a deer in the headlights, and awkwardly replying, "Not, like... My father didn't get as angry with me once I was seven and had grown up a bit, got more capable.. and I hit my growth spurt when I was 14, I got bigger than him, he didn't really do anything after that."

"That's not really an answer," Sisko tells him.

Julian's body stills for a moment. "Isn't it?" he replies quietly, looking up at the captain.

...

And then Sisko gets Kira involved to kick his parents off the station and you think the augment reveal isn't going to happen because Julian deserves a break and his parents are gone and can't fuck it up anymore ...

BUT, nah: Zimmerman - realising he's not going to get his precious interviews after all - decides to bug Julian's parents (because what's privacy when you have a job to do?). And then Rom realises that Zimmerman is cocking up a load of things on the LMH deliberately because he doesn't want to replace the EMH* and looks into Zimmerman's files and finds the report he's going to send and blackmails the guy* (there's gotta be a rule of acquisition about that right?) into not sending the report.

[*Not my idea -- this was the original plan for the episode, though with Miles, not Rom.]

Also after all this Julian really feels like he needs to punch something he goes to Quark's to viciously hurl sharp pointy objects at a board because that's the next best thing -- but also he hasn't exactly done that since Miles, and why is the fucking dartboard still up anyway it's not like anyone else ever uses it so he has another minor breakdown over that and tries to rip it down until Leeta drags him into a storeroom.

(oh yeah I totally think Leeta would have broken up with him when he turned up with a baby -- like not in a mean way, just in a "I'm sorry Julian, I love you, but I'm not ready for a kid (and also you did just leave me for a month without sending a message and you definitely didn't think about me before agreeing to adopt the kid, did you?)" kind of way, y'know? but they're still friends and she still definitely cares for him.)

(idk when rom tells Julian what he did to zimmerman but when he does he's also awkwardly like "oh and I wish you and Leeta all the best" and Julian's like ???? and Rom's like "I saw you with her in the storeroom earlier. she called you sweetheart" or something and has assumed they're back together.)

--

And that's as far as I got but I just had to write it up so far because it has haunted me all day and I just need to get it out there.

Thanks for reading my stream of thoughts 💔

[redcoralpot]

Hii, if you don’t mind, could you do a smut Drabble of Peter Parker(any) x Top!FTM reader?

The readers been super dysphoric lately so Peter(being the great boyfriend that he is) buys him a strap-on with a realistic, skin textured dildo, one that also stimulates the readers t-dick. He tells the reader to put it on and Rides y/n. y/n thanks Peter in between moans for the gift and kiss while y/n blows peters back out till they both orgasm and he feels less dysphoric in the end?

I implemented some safety educational things in here, I hope you don’t mind! <33

Warnings: NSFW (18+), dysphoric breakdown at the beginning.

Word Count: 2.1K

Peter Parker (3) X FTM Reader - Crack Me Down

-

    “Babe,” a voice shouted from the end of the hallway, footsteps following. 

    You had said you would be ready in five, but that was fifteen minutes ago. Your reflection in the mirror aggravated you, making the tight feeling around your heart squeeze harder, and you wanted to rip your hair out. The confidence you had in your masculinity had been stomped out repeatedly this past week— if you were such a man, why could none of them see it? What was so wrong with you, your body, that never made you manly in everyone you ever interacted with’s eyes?

     Well, maybe everyone was an overstatement. Peter saw you as the man you are, he’d proven, but during times like these, you couldn’t help but doubt it a little. When it sounded like the whole world was out to grasp you as a woman, why would he ever even go against that? The thought made your ability to breathe harder, tears threatening to spill even when you heard the bathroom door creak open. 

    A gentle hand rubbed your shoulder, “Hey, uh, what’s wrong?”

    You clutched the edge of the sink. Everything was wrong, everything, everything, everything, and yet you couldn’t verbalize it. The edges of your vision only got more blurry as your attention was pinpointed on each and every body part that simply was wrong. 

     The mirror wasn’t in front of you anymore, and you were strategically placed in the bathtub, with your back being the only thing the mirror saw. Peter was beside you on the edge, playing with his hands and staring. You sniffled. 

    “Sorry you had to deal with that.”

    “No, no— it’s okay, I think it’s good that you got that out.”

    “I guess.”

    He shrugged, awkwardly, “I’m right, it’s been a really tough week. Do you wanna, I dunno, stay home today?”

    “That’d be nice.”

    “I think we might have some of your favorite ice cream left in the fridge, but we should maybe talk first.”

    You looked down, “Yeah.”

-

    It had been a month since your breakdown, and while it had faded from your immediate thoughts, the dysphoria never got much better. You could tell that Peter was trying his best to help, always going out of his way to introduce you as his boyfriend to anyone you meet, but sometimes that didn’t stop the misgendering. Peter had also been disappearing a lot more often lately, or retreating to the bathroom with his computer late at night when he thought you were asleep. It worried you, but you knew with his responsibilities as Spider-Man that you should just turn a blind eye. 

    Now, it was the weekend, and the late nights had finally caught up to him. You had to be extra careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed, eyeing his body when you grabbed your clothes and shuffled out of the room. The last sight you caught before finally closing the bedroom door was that of stuck up strands of fluffy brown hair peeking from underneath the blanket. Yeah, Peter was still definitely knocked out cold. 

    With your clothes now on, you tiptoed downstairs and immediately slid to the kitchen. You had breakfast already in the fridge, and you only needed to heat it up in the microwave. Now, you leaned against the counter and watched it rotate in the machine, relishing in the quiet environment. Alas, God was out to spite you that day, and a loud knock interrupted the peace you had. 

     Grumbling, you abandoned your breakfast and opened the door. The perpetrator was already pulling out of the driveway, and you looked down at your feet, where two packages lay. Weird, you couldn’t recall you or Peter ordering anything. Lifting the boxes inside, you turned to see the man staring. 

    “Good morning, handsome, did the mailman wake you up?” You smiled, but Peter wasn’t looking at you. 

    He was looking at the packages in your hands. 

    “Oh, these were dropped off by our door. They’re addressed to you, but I can’t remember if you mentioned anything was coming.”

    All at once, his face burst into the worst blush you had ever seen on him, and he cracked an awkward laugh, “Um, yeah, that was a surprise. Or was supposed to be one.”

    “What is it?”

    “We should go back to bed for this, it’s kinda private.”

    His face was still scarlet as he slipped back into the bedroom, and you looked back down at the packages. Peter’s reaction only made you more curious, so you ran after him. His hands were fidgeting as he sat on the bed when you turned into the doorway, and his back was slightly slouched.

     His eyes flicked away from you and he turned his back, “Open the smallest one first.” 

     “Okay.”

    Slicing it open with a box cutter, you lifted the flaps to reveal another, smaller box and a dark cloth material wrapped in plastic. Observing the smaller box closer, you could see that the label read “Stand-To-Pee Silicone Packer”. Your eyes widened, a warm feeling bursting through your heart.

     “I thought it might help after our talk last month,” Peter’s voice interrupted your speechless joy.

     “You thought right!”

     As you giddily grabbed his face to give him a kiss, he added, “I ordered the matching underwear for it too, is it in there?” 

    “Oh, yeah, it is,” You pulled out the next item and cut off the wrapping, revealing tight, black, boxer-style underwear that had a hole in the front. 

     “It—well, according to my research, it should hold the packer in place and allow you to pee at the same time.”

     “How do you clean it?”

    He shrugged, “Water and soap works, but boiling it is apparently the most effective way since it’s silicone. If you’re not sure, it should come with cleaning instructions. We can look at that together if you want?”

     “Yeah, sure, do you just dry it off with a towel?”

     “Air drying preserves the color and from what I’ve heard from trans men that’ve been using them for a while, you should dust it with cornstarch too.” 

     “Why?”

     “Prevents it from becoming sticky.”

     “Huh, interesting.”

    With that, you reached for the second, larger package. Peter tensed up beside you, and you saw the tips of his ears heat up again from the corner of your eye. 

     “What’s wrong?”

     “Just—,” he hesitates, “don’t judge me.”

    You gave him a questioning look; why would you ever think badly of him simply because of a package? The inquiry just made you more curious, and you practically ripped the poor box open. Inside was a box holding a realistic silicone dildo and a soft, underwear-style harness. 

    In other words, a strap on. As reported by some writing on the side of the box, it also had an additional vibrating part that would stimulate the clit of the user. 

    You looked up at your boyfriend in awe, “Babe.”

     “Yeah?”

     “This is awesome, genuinely,” He avoided your gaze. 

     “Really?”

     “Yeah! In fact, do you want to try it out right now?”

     “Woah, woah, not so fast. Really, I’d really love to but I also did safety research.”

     “Is this what you’ve been up to at night?”

     “…Yes. But as I was saying, it’s good to just wear it around the house before we actually use it.”

     “Okay, I can understand that.”

     “Wait, you weren’t asleep when I was doing research?”

-

    The wait was hard for you, how could it not be? You were tempted to try it out as soon as Peter walked out, but he didn’t give you the chance. He kept you on the bed and told you absolutely everything he had learned. He had even been kind enough to give you his notes on the subject, some of which you had been skimming through for the past week. 

     Lately, however, your boyfriend seemed to be fidgety. Now, being fidgety was typical of him, but it was over the top. You couldn’t help but notice it and today, you wanted to talk about it with him.

     You waited until you were both in the bedroom before dropping the big question, “What’s been up with you?”

     “What?”

     “I can tell something’s up.”

     “Nothing’s wrong,” He sounded unsure of himself, and you gave him an unbelieving stare. 

     “Sure, spill it.”

      He must have realized that there was no way out of the conversation, and surrendered, “Okay, I was being honest when I said nothing was wrong specifically. Something’s just been on my mind.”

     “And?”

    “Fuck, I don’t know how to say it.”

    “Is it negative or positive?”

    “Positive,”

    “Uhuh?” You got closer, rubbing your thumb under his jaw.

    He cracked.

     “I really, really wanna ride you,”

     You froze in shock, and he took that opportunity to hide his head in your neck, “Please, put it on, I’ll do all the work if you want?”

     The frozen moment melted as quickly as it had come, with you starting to sink into your role. You slid your hand up to the back of his hair, pulling his face out of its spot. 

     “Wait on the bed and take your pants off,” you ordered. 

     Peter took a sharp breath before you let go and sauntered to the bathroom. No, it didn’t take you long to set yourself up, not with the thought of Peter Parker, the city’s most rebellious vigilante, sitting half-naked and obedient on your bed stuck in your mind. You were greeted with such a sight when you returned, except a million times better. 

     Your boyfriend was there on the sheets, his ears cherry red and his fingers twitching. His eyes lit up as you stepped in, and oh my, it was definitely a vision to witness. Anticipation was eating at you, so you eagerly sat at the head of the bed, popping the cap of a lube bottle open and squirting a healthy portion into your hand. 

     “Do you want me to prepare you?”

     His voice cracked, “Yeah,”

    He climbed over you, balancing his weight on his knees and his hands on your shoulders. Peter shivered when he felt a cool finger circle his hole, before it pushed in. He sighed at the familiar feeling, rocking back on your hand as an open invitation to add more. 

    “Color?”

    “Green, really green.”

    “Good boy.”

    With that comment, you could feel him gasp and clench down. Slowly, you took the opportunity to add in more fingers, pumping them in and out. It wasn’t long before you slid them out and silenced Peter’s whine with a nip to the neck. 

    He wasted no time after this, positioning his strong thighs in order to sink down on your strap. You flicked a button on a remote in your shirt pocket, and the strap, along with the additional part, started to vibrate. Peter was caught by surprise, throwing his head back and slapping a hand over his mouth to suppress a moan, while you bit your lip and sat your hands on his waist. 

     “F-fuck,” he panted, legs shaking. 

    “Go ahead, sweetheart, you wanted to ride me.”

    He groaned, fucking himself on your dick. His head fell on your shoulder as he did so, tears pricking at his eyes, “Did you— d-did you like your gifts?”

     You sounded breathless in his ear, heat pooling in your stomach, “Shit, of course I did.”

     “Really?” 

     “Uhuh,” you moaned, “let me show you how— unh— thankful I am.”

     Your hands gripped his waist harder, taking the control from Peter. With as much bravo you could muster, you thrusted up into him, and he sobbed. You bounced him on your cock with him drooling over your neck. 

    “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much,”

     “Can I cum? I’m so close, please, please, please—“ he begged, his fingers digging bruises into your shoulder. 

     You nodded, and he only became more desperate, “Oh god, oh shit,”

     You didn’t even have to control him anymore, he thrust himself mindlessly again and again as he chased his high, and you were getting just as close to yours. His body trembled before he whined your name, slowing his hips and looking down. You didn’t have to in order to know what happened, leaving sloppy kisses along his arm as you came too, thighs shaking. 

      Fingers numb, you reached to the remote and flicked it off. Peter sighed, lifting up his head to give you a long, soft kiss. 

      “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” you mumbled against his lips, grinning. 

-

[angelsunoo]

Can we get riki x reader argument with happy ending pls we love angst guys 😍

HI ANONNNNNN im currently on a break (or we could say inactive lolol) rn, but i could push this in!!!! I love angst too btw MY BIAS YALLLLL

+ school just started again sooo ive been really busy

ARGUMENT / n.rk.

PAIRINGS bf!riki x reader

GENRE requested, angst, fluff YUHHH

ABOUT you had an argument with your boyfriend.

WARNING swearing, argument. Reader is a bit possessive. All of these are a work of fiction. Ignore the cringe ass usernames in Twitter 😰

It was 7:30 pm. You were up scrolling thru twitter, frowning at every post that bitch made. Why the hell is she acting like Riki is her boyfriend?

You had a scowl on your face. 'Why are u so cute'.

They went on an arcade together. You audibly scoff. He declined your offer to go out with him just to be with that?

Honestly. That's ridiculous. Maybe I should unfollow her. She doesn't deserve my follow.

While you were thinking about ways to murder her, you were unaware that someone just arrived home.

"Hey, Y/N. " you jolt, nearly throwing your phone in the air.

"What the fuck.. " you curse out, placing your hand on your heaving chest. "Don't you know how to knock?" Your eyes widen. You didn't expect to sound so harsh.

"Oh, sorry if I surprised you." He rubs the nape of his neck. Your frown deepens. That's all he has to say? Ugh.

"You went to the arcade with Lei?" You crossed your arms, still with frown displaying your face.

He doesn't answer for a while, he was pulling out the tickets he earned from playing. He got a cute plushie too.

"Uh . Yeah." He casually says, still not giving you eye contact.

"Riki, look at me."

He looks at you with a confused look. "Why do you sound mad? Did I do something wrong?"

"Yeah. You did." You roll your eyes. Wow, does he really not see what's going on?

"What did I do?" He approaches you. He places his hands on your arms. In attempt to soothe you.

You backed away, causing him to let go of you, while your arms remained crossed. "You chose her over me."

"What do you mean?" He asks, with confusion. "Are you jealous I went out with her?" He shoots you a playfull grin, that was quickly removed by your hard glare.

"I'm not joking, riki." You cross your arms. Can't he read the room. You were genuinely upset, and it made you more upset that he failed to notice it. He doesn't respond, and stashed his tickets in a drawer.

"Hello???" You call out, peeking over to what he's doing. "Stop ignoring me asshole."

"What? I'm the asshole?" He glared back at you. Your eyes widen.

"Oh! So you're the one who's mad now." Your tone was a bit higher and harsh. He turns to you, mimicking your actions from earlier, crossing his arms.

"Literally, give me a break Y/N." He says, "She's just a friend. Why do you worry so much?"

"Excuse me? I'm no way near 'worried'." You retort, making air quotation marks with your fingers. "I'm just upset you declined my offer to go out!"

"Oh, then fucking swallow your pride and accept the fact I said no to you! You can't stand it it when someone refuses you, can you? You're being all bitchy to me this late at night." He raises his voice, his tone now also becoming harsher. "She's just a friend. Please don't make me say it again.." He walks away angrily. Leaving you in shock. You didn't mean it that way.

You're just....

"Riki! Come back here!" You shout. He doesn't reply and slams the door behind him. You feel water start to form around your eyes. You never seen him this furious to you.

Now you worry how you're going to sleep at night without his warmth radiating beside you on your bed.

You could barely sleep at night. Why?

Well...

1. You couldn't sleep without him

2. You feel guilty for being a total bitch last night.

3. You are worried of where he might have gone. Did he go to his friend's place? Where did he sleep?

4. Your worried on how your going to talk to him the next day.

This is bad.

Maybe I should text him?

You open your phone, a bit hesitant to text him. You were really ashamed of what you did last night.

Maybe I should just talk to him in school.

You arrived in school, nervously tapping your foot on the smooth marble floor.

Your eyes searched for him.

"Oh riki..." you whisper, your tone being impatient.

After a few minutes of waiting, you finally spotted him, walking with his older friend, Jungwon.

You suddenly feel shy to approach him, the image of his angry face still stuck in your mind made you feel so guilty and ashamed.

You realized your mistake. You shouldn't have been too dramatic yesterday. Riki can hangout with anyone he likes.

But to admit, his words kind of hit you too.

You gave up the idea of talking to him. You feel to ashamed to face him.

Riki on the other hand, is dying to see you again. He misses your embrace and your kisses.

He felt really bad for what he said and he wanted to apologize. He saw you earlier, you looked somewhat nervous? He was going to approach you but you just suddenly left. He thought you didn't want to see his face.

"Yo Riki!" He turns to see who called him, it was jake.

"Oh hey hyung." He said. Jake raises his brow, a bit confused with riki's unusual attitude.

"Hey, what happened?" Jake asked, caressing riki's back slowly.

"I.. I had a fight with Y/N. I said really mean things to her and now I don't think she wants to talk to me," riki says so nonchalantly, but in actuality, he wanted to scream and cry right on the spot.

"Well, you should talk to her," jake says, and riki rolls his eyes.

"Are you serious? I literally told you she didn't wanna talk to me."

"Nuh-uh! You said 'I think'. So means you're not sure if she wants to talk to you or not."

"It's just that... It could've gone a different way. Maybe If i didn't scream at her then maybe she wouldn't be mad at me?" He says unsurely, not knowing what to do. He misses you so much and just wished he was hugging you right now.

It was lunchtime, you said to your friend that you can eat alone. You placed your food tray with a heavy heart.

Sigh.

"Gosh, this day can't get any worse." You mumble, feeling no apetite to eat your food.

While you were busy playing with your food, you didn't know that someone sat infront of you.

"Hey, y/n. " you removed your gaze from your food to look who just sat infront you.

"O-oh! Riki..what you doing here?" You say trying to act casual, but he was able to see right through you.

"Why? Can't I sit with my girlfriend?" He playfully smirks at you, once he saw your red and flustered face.

God, y/n. Why are blushing at that?

"You've been playing with your food," he points out, "why don't I feed you, hm?"

You knew by his tone that he was teasing, and decided to play along.

Finally, he's yours again— I mean-! He has always been.

..

The end

[tonberry-yoda]

Last Night - Blitzo

Pairing - Blitzo x reader

Warnings - implied NSFW (i know, baffling coming from me lol)

Word Count - 684

Notes - obsessed with blitzo right now grr. also, my requests should be open soon, so that's super exciting because i really flipping want some hazbin or helluva boss requests (this isnt your invitation to ask for something NSFW though lol). i hope you all have a great day!! <333 stay hydrated my loves <3333 (also image is not mine)

Blitzo woke up with panic shock waving through his body. He wasn't in his house. Where the hell was he?

He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. He was sleeping in a bed, he knew that much. It was still dark, so everything was hard to process. The room looked familiar, so that was a good sign. He's been here before.

“Blitzo?” He heard a sleepy voice next to him that made him jump. “Is everything okay?”

He turned to the voice and saw you rubbing your eyes, holding the blanket up to your chest.

Oh shit.

He remembered everything.

The way your claws dug into his back. The way he cried in your arms. The way you told him how you loved him. The way he gripped onto the sheets as you-

“You okay?” Your voice was a little less sleepy and you looked concerned from what he could see of you.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Just dandy.” He quickly wrapped his half naked body in the blanket soaking in the warmth for a second before getting flashbacks.

You weren't like Stolas. You were… very different from Stolas. Stolas wanted him for nothing but sex. But you wanted him… for a completely different reason.

You went out for dinner. He had asked you on a date; joked about it more like. And you said yes. He was shocked.

The date went on as any date does. Dinner, conversation, late night talking, all of it.

But one date led to two dates.

Which led to three.

And then four.

And then ten.

He was falling for you. He didn't want to admit it, but he was almost head over heels for you. You cared about Loona. You was a great addition to I.M.P. You was caring. But most of all… you loved him. You really did. In his heart he hated that though. He didn't want to get attached. He couldn't. If he did… he might… lose you.

“A-Are you mad at me?” Your voice was soft sirens faintly blaring in the background.

Blitzo quickly turned to you, sitting up. “M-Mad at you? I…” Mad wasn't the right word. And maybe what he was feeling wasn't even directed at you.

No. He wasn't mad. But was he upset? He wasn't allowed to be doing what he was doing, at least that’s what he told himself.

“No. I'm not mad at you.”

“O-Okay.” You hugged your knees and looked out of your window, the neon lights outside making your eyes glow.

“I'm not.” Blitzo grabbed your chin in between his index finger and thumb, looking in your bright eyes. “I promise I'm not mad.”

You nodded and averted your eyes, looking back outside. “I just,” you sighed shakily. “Last night… we… I didn't mean to… I know that you and uh… I just…” You put your face in your hands and took a deep breath. “I don't have the words, Blitzo… I'm just sorry.”

“Sorry?” Blitzo tilted his head and crawled over to you. “Why are you sorry?”

“Last night we… I… I didn't mean to.”

“Last night was…” Blitzo giggled lightly, putting his hand on your back. “One of the best nights of my life.”

He knew he was in love. There was no denying it now. Everything he was upset about always faded when you talked.

You turned towards him, slightly shocked. “I-It was?”

He nodded and brought your lips to his, kissing you gently. “Sorry I cried though. That’s probably what’s setting you off, huh?”

You nodded slightly and fell into his arms. “I thought maybe you hated it.”

“Nah. I just… you make me feel good. Too good for my liking.” He winked and wrapped his arms around you.

You felt yourself blush as you curled into his warm touch, your freezing cold fingers brushing over his arm.

“Blitzo?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Blitzo pressed a kiss to your forehead with a smile. “I love you too.”

You pulled each other closer and Blitzo watched the sunrise from outside while you snored softly in his arms.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 8: Crash And Burn]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, actual sex (18+ readers only), near-death experiences, health crises, hospitals, questionable tattoos, trout with Trent.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​​​@elsolario​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​ @joliettes​ @trifoliumviridi​ @bornbetter​ @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ @courtenbae​ @tempt-ress​ @padfooteyes​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ 

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

“He broke up with me.” Kimmie hasn’t taken a single sip of her Miller Lite. She’s staring right past you and Heather, her eyes glassy puddles shimmering with reflections of multicolored Christmas lights. It’s Monday, December 13th, and Dale’s stereo is playing Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas. You’re in the usual booth and waiting for the boys to get off work. Outside the frosted windows is an ocean of darkness punctuated by narrow aisles of murky streetlight luminescence. “He actually broke up with me.”

Heather snaps her fingers in front of Kimmie’s face. “Uh, Kimmie, Earth to Kimmie, yeah, can you give us a little more exposition, please? When exactly did this happen?”

“Yesterday,” Kimmie says, slightly more present now. “He’d been weird since the hike, super depressed, super boring…he wasn’t even interested in doggie style, and he loves doggie style!”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” Heather pleads.

“So he called me to come over last night and I went to see him and he was…like…sitting on his couch with his hands folded in his lap like it was a freaking job interview. And he explained that he thought I was totally great and that we’d had a lot of fun together but now he had to break things off for personal reasons.”

“Wow, personal reasons, wow,” Heather muses. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but she does kick your boot under the table. You pretend not to notice.

“Wow,” Joyce echoes wryly, flipping a page in her current fantasy novel. There’s some stately prince on the front cover: crown, sword, shield, long flowing hair like a river of white gold.

“I don’t even care that much,” Kimmie realizes as she’s saying it. “I mean, it was nearing its expiration date anyway. I’m going to get back together with Brad, Aegon’s going to presumably resume sleeping his way through Juneau…or maybe try out taking a vow of celibacy, who knows, he’s been very monkish the past few days. He can be fun sometimes, and I like him, and I wish him all the best, but there’s no future for us. I just realized that he’s the first guy who ever broke up with me instead of the other way around. It feels…not great!”

“Congratulations, you’re a mortal,” Joyce says, not looking up from her book.

“So you wouldn’t care if Aegon got with someone else?” Heather asks Kimmie innocently. This time, you kick Heather. She winces but bites back a hiss of pain.

Kimmie considers this, finally taking a swig of her I’m-a-cool-girl-who-likes-hockey-and-trucks beer. “No, probably not.”

I won’t do it, you vow to yourself with false stoicism, imagined iron you wish you were really made of. I won’t date him, I won’t sleep with him, I won’t fall in love with him. And yet part of you already knows it’s too late. Part of you knows this as if it’s been inked to your skin like the scrawled, secret entries of a journal.

Ursa Minor’s front door bangs open, and what you see when you turn to look doesn’t make any sense. Rob and Trent—both dripping wet, their hair plastered flat to their heads, their boots squeaking on the hardwood floor—rush inside. There are shouts and gasps and people leaping up out of their seats to get a better look. Trent is carrying something over one of his lumberjack-broad shoulders. He kneels to throw it down onto the floor. It’s Aegon: limp, bluish, unconscious.

“Someone call somebody!” Trent bellows. He’s staring down at Aegon in panic, in terror, not knowing what to do. Beads of water run down his face. “An ambulance or 911 or a helicopter…or…or somebody!”

“Got it!” Dale says, darting for the phone behind the bar. Kimmie is shrieking. Joyce is trying to calm her down. And by then, you’re on the floor beside Aegon feeling for a pulse on his carotid. He doesn’t have one. He’s cold and he’s silent and he’s medically dead.

“He fell,” Trent says franticly, helplessly. “We were bringing the boat into the harbor and he got tangled in a net and fell overboard. I pulled him out, but he was underwater for a while and we couldn’t…we couldn’t wake him up…”

“Aegon?!” you scream, shaking him, slapping him across his icy, vacant face. “Aegon, wake up, wake up, please wake up!”

Heather is next to you. “What can I do?”

“Help me get his wet clothes off. Hypothermia.”

She yanks at his boots, his socks, his jeans. “You know how to do CPR, right?”

“Yeah, on a dog!” Still, you have to try. How long can he go without a pulse until he’s braindead? Four minutes? Five? The cold might buy him extra time, but not much. Minutes. You rip off his red flannel shirt; buttons go careening across the wet floor. As you place your palms over his heart, you notice—fleetingly, dazedly, like sloshing through a dream—that he has a scattering of scars on his chest, gashes and punctures and knicks…and two tattoos. There is a dragon spiraled around his right collarbone. Just below his left, there are three words written in light, graceful cursive: I’m a killer.

You start chest compressions. How many am I supposed to do on a human? Ten? Twenty? You can’t remember. You’re sobbing; you aren’t sure when that started, but it’s in full force now. Heather mops the tears from your face with her sleeve so you can see.

He’s going to die, you think. He’s going to die lying on the floor of this bar in his boxers, and he will never tell me anything again, and he will never see his family again, and he will never get better. The channel killed Jesse and now it’s killed Aegon too.

“Is he dead?!” Kimmie yelps from across the room. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”

Heather hurls back: “You’re going to be dead if you don’t shut up! Let her work on him!”

You tilt Aegon’s head back, lift his chin, pinch his nose shut. Then you exhale into him. You can taste the dark ancient salt of the sea on his cold lips…but beneath that there is rum as well. He shouldn’t have been drinking that much at work. He doesn’t usually. What’s different? What’s been bothering him? But you think you know the answer to that.

There’s nothing, nothing, nothing…and then Aegon’s chest rises and he rolls onto his side, choking out torrents of seawater and gasping for air. People are cheering and chattering, but you barely hear them.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, and if you were sobbing before now you’re properly bawling, breathless and hysterical. It’s uncontrollable, you can’t seem to stop. You cling to Aegon as he shivers violently and peers around with half-open, profoundly confused blue eyes, warming him with your own body heat, turning his flesh from blue to white to pink.

“Go get coats and stuff to warm him up,” Heather says to Trent, shoving him away. And you do actually need coats…but also, you think, Heather is trying to get rid of her brother. Because it should be obvious to anyone what’s going on here; it should be obvious to anyone that you’re in love with this white-blond man on the floor who not so very long ago was a stranger.

“Hey, hey,” Aegon rasps, pawing clumsily at your face as if to comfort you, almost poking your eyes out in the process. And then he asks, with genuine confusion: “What the hell are you crying about?”

You start laughing, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “You, idiot. I’m crying about you.”

“I’m fine, Appletini,” he croaks. “Shh. Shh. Stop. No crying.”

“I thought you were dead, I thought…I thought…”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Aegon says, his eyes dipping shut. Outside in the blackness somewhere, there are sirens whirling. Trent returns with an armful of coats and together you pile them on top of Aegon, burying him in a tomb of L.L.Bean and Patagonia and The North Face. “Trust me. I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Obviously, the hospital won’t let Aegon have rum and Cokes. He pushes his morphine button almost constantly, even though the doctors and nurses tell him he’s already maxed out. They began by keeping Aegon overnight for observation, and then he developed pneumonia, and then the first type of antibiotics didn’t work and they had to play roulette until they found one that did. Now it’s a full week later—December 20th—and Aegon is finally feeling like himself again and is due to be released tomorrow. Sunfyre has been staying with you and your parents. He loves it, he gets constant attention and enjoys gazing out the window to see if his new best friend the cow moose will show up. Meanwhile, Trent has convinced his boss Rusty—another high school classmate of your parents, another hulking bearded specimen of the enmeshed Juneau ecosystem—to let Aegon keep his job despite the extended leave; Trent even managed to get Aegon paid time off for the first five days. This is all rather heroic of him. It makes you feel bad for thinking he might be a serial killer. If Trent knows that Aegon was drunk on the job, he hasn’t mentioned it to anybody.

“I got you something,” Aegon tells you when you get off work. It’s just after sunset, the last whisps of pink and lilac dusk vanishing from the sky. Things have been slow at the vet clinic as Christmas draws near, which is good in that you can leave early and visit Aegon more often. It’s bad because you’re less busy, less preoccupied; you have all the time in the world to think about him. Aegon is propped up in bed on pillows—his hair slicked back from his face, his eyes sleepy and racoonish—and wearing a hospital gown that’s too big for him. You can see his collarbones and his tattoos, though you’re trying very hard not to stare, to wonder. He points to the table beside his bed. There’s a bouquet of blue roses lying there.

“For me?!”

“For the person who literally brought me back from the dead? Yeah, I don’t think it’s too extravagant.”

You give him one of the hot chocolates you bought from the hospital cafeteria. It’s not as good as his, obviously, but it’s better than nothing. He clutches the Styrofoam cup with both hands, steam rolling up into his face. He inhales the scent, closes his eyes, sighs deeply with a smile. “I hope they aren’t stolen,” you say about the roses, only half-kidding.

“They’re from the gift shop. I dragged myself down there after lunch. They really weren’t that expensive, I think the cashier gave me a still-attached-to-an-IV discount.”

“Was she cute?”

“She was eighty years old.”

You laugh and sit down in the chair beside his bed, sipping your own hot chocolate: thin, watery, weak. You admire the roses, threading velvety cerulean petals through your fingers. “I love them, really, but I wish you wouldn’t buy things for me. I know you’re chronically short on money. And I am somehow skeptical that you have health insurance. Do you have health insurance?”

He grins toothily. “Nope.”

“Aegon,” you lament.

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll bill me, I’ll never pay, it’s all made up.”

“You might need a halfway decent credit score one day.”

He shakes his head. “I’m never going to try to get a mortgage. I’m never going to apply for a job at a bank or a law firm. I’ll be fine. I’ll live in a tree if that’s what it takes.”

You rest your palm against his cheek and then his forehead, checking for fever. His skin is warm but not hot, pale but not bloodless. You can feel his eyes on you, trying to catch your gaze like a hook through a fish. You avoid them.

“How do I look, vet lady?”

“I’m not really qualified to evaluate humans.”

“I don’t want to get better.”

Now you do stare at him, direct and mystified. “Why?”

“I’m worried you won’t be nice to me anymore.”

You chuckle, relieved. “I’ll still be nice to you, Aegon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

A nurse pops into the room, young and springy and jovial like a kitten. She must be new; you don’t recognize her, and you’ve been here a lot. “Good afternoon, I’m just swinging by to take your vitals. I see you’re scheduled to go home tomorrow, how exciting!” The nurse squints down at the chart she has pinned to a clipboard. “Aegon…?”

He smirks long-sufferingly. “It’s Greek.”

“It’s lovely!” the nurse recovers. She measures his temperature and heartrate and blood pressure, his reflexes and his oxygenation. He passes all inquiries with flying colors. She congratulates Aegon on his recovery and flits off to tend to more needy patients. You think of the nights you’ve spent curled up in this chair, listening to Aegon’s labored, rattling breathing and watching blooms of flare-hot crimson fever creep across his face. You think of how much it’s going to kill you to lose him someday. You find yourself staring at his tattoos, ink that someone else put there in some other city, remnants of the life he had before.

“You can ask,” Aegon says. “I’m sure you’re wondering.”

You set your hot chocolate on the table and move closer to him, ghosting your fingertips over the words: I’m a killer. He jolts a little, although not in a bad way, not in an unwelcome way. He doesn’t lean away from you. In fact, he leans in. “What’s up with that?”

“Would this be an awkward moment for me to confess that I’m the Ice Fisher?”

You smile. “You have to admit that it’s a little weird. There’s a killer on the loose, you have a tattoo that says you’re a killer, I think any reasonable observer would have questions.”

“Kimmie didn’t.”

“Reasonable observer, I said. Reasonable.”

“It’s not a confession. It’s a Johnny Cash lyric.”

“Really? Which song?” You know a fair amount of Johnny Cash thanks to your dad’s extensive vinyl collection. You skim through his discography in your head: Walk The Line, Ring Of Fire, Get Rhythm, Folsom Prison Blues, I Got Stripes. You can’t remember any of them having that line. It circles around in your skull, only sounding like Aegon’s voice: I’m a killer, I’m a killer.

“I’ve Been Everywhere,” he says. “It’s a cover, actually. Some other guy did it first. But I didn’t know that when I got inked. And I loved Johnny Cash’s version when I heard it. It was like my theme song.”

“Ohhh, right, that’s the one where he lists all the cities he’s been to, like Reno, uh, and Chicago, and, uhhh…”

Aegon sings, deep but hoarse: “Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma—” He breaks off with a coughing fit.

“Stop,” you beg, laughing. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” You trace the cursive letters lightly. I’m a killer. I’m a killer. “Kimmie never had questions about that?”

“I don’t think Kimmie really sees me. She just sees adjectives in the shape of my silhouette. But you…” He puts his hand over yours, pinning it to his chest. You can feel his heart under there somewhere, beneath muscles and bones and a pitch-black sea crawling with monsters that have evolved to live in the extreme gravity, in the depths: ghosts of the past and sirens of the future. He smiles. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.” You study his scars. They’re random like a scatterplot, none large enough to appear life-threatening. “How did you get these?”

“Car accident. A long time ago.”

“Before you left Miami?”

He gazes absently out the window, where snow is falling. You can see it drifting down to the earth in the gloomy beams of streetlights. “Yeah.”

Now there are new lyrics bubbling up in your mind, not anything by Johnny Cash but Cake’s The Distance. No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine, he’s haunted by something he cannot define. And perhaps you know something about what that feels like. “Do you really think I’m a coward?” you ask softly. “I know you’re trying not to lie to me. So I’m hoping you’ll tell me the truth. You might be the only person who will.”

Aegon pauses before he answers. “I think a lot of people are cowards in one way or another,” he says diplomatically. “And I think that if that’s your greatest flaw as a human—that you don’t want to disappoint your parents, that you don’t want to hurt them, that you want to repay them for being so wonderful when there are people out there who beat and murder their kids—you turned out alright.”

You think of how easy it would be to rest your head on his bare, scarred chest and let him hold you. You think of how much you want that, want it in a sudden and ravenous and unbearable sort of way. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“No problem, Appletini.”

There is a knock on the door, and you jerk away from Aegon. You pick up your hot chocolate and slurp it as you sink into the chair. Aegon laces his hands together and wrings them. Trent walks in. “Sup, bro?!” he pipes cheerfully.

“Bro,” Aegon offers in return. They bump fists.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I definitely am.”

“Still getting let out tomorrow?”

“Yup. Like a prisoner who made parole. Kimmie already offered to drive me home.” Then he adds: “Platonically.” Kimmie’s the only one in the friend group without a real job. Her parents are both university professors—you aren’t sure how none of the genius chromosomes made their way down the genetic Plinko board to her, but they didn’t���and she gets paid to be their ‘research assistant’…which means she works rarely and with no accountability whatsoever.

Trent’s eyes dart to you, to the blue roses, to you again, finally back to Aegon. He’s beaming, but there’s something hollow about it, like if you struck him across the face it would crack like porcelain. “Flowers, huh? That’s dope.”

“Yeah, I figured it was the least I could do since she saved my life and all.”

“She’s fantastic,” Trent agrees proudly, like he owns you. “In fact, that’s kind of why I’m here.” He turns to you. “I called the house and your parents told me I should check the hospital. I wanted to…you know, now that Aegon’s basically better and we all know he’s not gonna die…I wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, stupidly, like you’re unfamiliar with the concept. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, someplace nice. Candlelight and fancy dessert, the whole deal.”

A date. That’s definitely a date. You stare at Trent. He stares at you. Aegon frowns at you both, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “Dinner,” you say awkwardly, but with more conviction. “Totally. Dinner would be nice.”

“Awesome!” Trent thunders. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Sounds good!” you say with overcompensating enthusiasm. Trent swoops in for an unexpected hug—nearly spilling your hot chocolate—and gives Aegon a parting fist bump. Then he’s gone.

“I owe him,” you explain to Aegon, speaking quickly, nervously. “He saved your life, he fished you out of the channel like a goddamn salmon. He’s responsible for you keeping your job. He’s getting you paid time off. He’s been around the hospital a lot this week, he’s been so helpful, selflessly helpful…I can’t just tell him to fuck off after all that.” And then you say: “But it’s only dinner! Only one dinner!”

“Need some condoms?” Aegon teases, trying to make you smile. It works. “I have a box I’m not currently using.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Good to know.”

“I doubt your condoms are horse-sized anyway.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not about the number of inches, it’s about how you use them.”

“I’ve heard some very interesting things. About your inches, I mean.”

“Oh no,” he groans, covering his blushing face with his hands.

“I didn’t say bad things. I said interesting things.”

“I wouldn’t mind you knowing from firsthand experience,” he says with a sly little grin you can’t quite read. It’s playful, it’s sharp, it’s baiting, it’s sad.

“About what?”

“About my inches.”

You both burst out laughing, so hard Aegon launches into another coughing fit. You reach for him instinctively, pressing your hand to his chest again as if you can cure him, not a palm reader but a faith healer. A miracle worker. A professional fixer.

“You think it’s safe?” he asks, seriously now. “Dinner, I mean. With Trent.”

“I think he’d have a hard time strangling me in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And everyone’s going to know we’re hanging out together tomorrow night, he’d have to be more than stupid to kill me. He’d have to be all brainstem, like an alligator or a shark. Besides, he doesn’t want me dead.”

“I know. He wants you to be his wife.” There’s nothing to fill the uneasy lull but the pounding of your own heartbeat. “Call me,” Aegon says abruptly. “When you get home tomorrow night. So I know you’re okay.” So I know you didn’t get murdered. So I know you’re not at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

“What if it’s not until really late? I don’t want to disturb you while you’re recovering.”

He looks out the window: into the frigid void, into nothing. “Still call me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Trent takes you to the Red Dog Saloon, Juneau’s idea of fine dining. You intentionally dress to look not-sexy: dark blue flannel (you’ve warmed to the fabric since Aegon wears it so much) with a T-shirt underneath, jeans, boots, minimal makeup, hair in an I-really-don’t-care messy loose braid. Trent doesn’t seem to notice that this isn’t supposed to be a date. He’s wearing a button-up maroon shirt and khakis. He chats away blithely as you survey the menu. He’s had the servers bring out candles to put on the table. He’s ordered craft beers for you both. You wrinkle your nose and shudder after each thick bitter sip, chasing the beer with desperate gulps of water. Whoever owns the Red Dog Saloon does not share Dale’s devotion to Shania Twain and Christmas music; the stereo is playing Savage Garden’s Crash And Burn.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asks, casting former-football-star Trent a flirtatious smile just in case he’s single. He is! you mentally shout, hoping for telepathy. He just doesn’t know it!

“Yeah,” you begin. “I think I’d like to try your brisket—”

“Oh no, no no no,” Trent says with a chuckle. He flips his hair; in your head, you hear a neigh. “They have a great special. Trout with risotto. How fancy is that?! I don’t even know what risotto is! We gotta try that. We gotta make tonight special.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure.” You give the waitress a tight smirk as you hand her the menu. “The trout special. Two of them, I guess.”

“You’ll love it,” the waitress promises, tossing Trent another smile like a penny into a fountain. She takes both menus and disappears into the kitchen.

“So,” Trent says, drinking his beer. “I didn’t know you liked Aegon so much. I thought you kind of hated him, actually.”

You shrug, peering into the foam of your unwanted beer. “I don’t like to see anyone suffering. It doesn’t matter who.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“And you encouraged me to get along with him because you want him to stay in Juneau so he can be in your band.”

“Oh yeah, right. Okay, never mind. I was just…curious.” Another hair flip.

“Look, Trent…” You gather your courage like raking up autumn leaves. “We’re friends, right?”

He chortles. “Well, I’d like to think we’re a lot more than that.”

I bet you would. “But we never…like…we never put a label on it, you know?”

“Do you need a label?” he says. You had worried he might be mad; instead, he’s amused. You aren’t sure why that makes you feel worse. “Is that what makes it official, us using the words boyfriend, girlfriend, relationship, whatever?”

“Maybe those words don’t really apply to us, and that’s why we haven’t used them yet,” you try hopefully. “Like, if we were supposed to date, it would feel more natural for us to date. But maybe it doesn’t feel so natural, so we’re better off staying friends.”

Now he puts his beer down and stares at you. The glass thumps against the glossy wood. He’s bending towards you, though you don’t think he’s even aware of it; he props his elbows on the table, his brow crinkling in bewilderment. And there’s something else in the lines of his face too. Anger. Indignation. Betrayal. “You want to be friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” you amend swiftly. “I just said maybe we’re better off as friends.”

He slaps his palm against the table—you flinch, hating that he has that power over you—and laughs in amazement. “I’m just…well, I’m shocked! You’re fine with kissing me, and watching movies in your bedroom, and hanging out all the time, and getting drinks together and playing pool and showing me off to your parents, but you’re horrified by the thought of calling it dating?! You’re too much, ladybug. You’re really too much.”

He's going to pretend he doesn’t see that I want out. And he’s going to keep pretending until he’s on his knees with a fucking ring from Zales. “I don’t think I’m looking for a relationship right now, Trent. With anyone.” Oh, and that’s such a goddamn lie.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He studies you; but that’s too kind a word for it. His eyes flay you down to the bone. “I’m a good guy, you know.”

“I know,” you lie, nodding agreeably.

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” he says. “It’s not like you have forever to find someone to settle down with. I go to work, I’m popular, I’m presentable, I care about you, I take you on dates, I move your furniture around whenever you fucking ask me to, I’m a good guy. I get that maybe this is progressing a little fast for you, and we can slow down if that’s what you want. But I think it would be pretty stupid to give something like this up. Don’t you?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a threat. Don’t you? Don’t you? “You’re right, Trent,” you hear yourself say, like it’s someone else’s voice. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

The waitress arrives with your dinner and—not so subtly—slips Trent her number. He makes a great show of ripping it up in front of you. The trout and risotto thing is great, actually. It’s not what you walked in wanting, but it turned out just fine. And maybe that’s what the rest of your life will be like too: other people making choices, you hoping you’ll like the taste.

After dinner and dessert—a Baked Alaska, another of Trent’s suggestions that are more like nonnegotiables—he drives you home in his massive rumbling truck. You talk innocuously about your vet clinic clients, dogs and cats and hamsters and reindeer, until you roll to a stop in front of your parents’ house. You begin your goodbye, opening the truck door. Cold December air floods in.

“Okay Trent, thank you for a lovely night—” He cuts you off with a kiss he didn’t ask for, a hand on your face that feels hot and smothering. You’re so stunned it takes you a few seconds to try to push him away. He ignores you until you shove him so hard he can’t pretend not to notice.

“What are you so worried about?” he demands, he implores, like he’ll fix anything if you just name it, like he’ll strike the nails with his bare hands. But he can’t fix what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I’m in love with Aegon Targaryen. “Are you scared I’ll be bored of you once you give it all up? Are you worried about getting pregnant? Aren’t you on the pill? I saw the pack in your bedroom.”

You’re nauseated that he noticed, that he’s imagined you like that: naked, compliant, vulnerable. “Yes, Trent, but that’s for me, not for you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You tell him the truth. Not the whole truth—not enough to enrage him—but the crux of it: the spine, the heart. “I always thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like, but now I’m…I’m…”

“Well this is what comes next, right?” Trent says. “You check the boxes for school and work, and then it’s time to settle down. Get married, buy a house, have kids. I’m ready to give you that. I want to give you that. Don’t you want it too?”

Aegon is going to leave, you think with steel-cold dread. Sooner or later, he’ll disappear to start over again in some anonymous new city. And what will my life look like then? What will I have when he’s gone? “I guess I just need some more time to figure things out.”

Trent nods, his jaw clenched tight, looking out into the darkness through his windshield. “I’m not criticizing you for waiting. I’m just wondering what the hell you’re waiting for.”

Inside the house is hushed and empty; your parents are enjoying a night out with your dad’s bowling league. They even took Sunfyre with them. You drag yourself upstairs, each step a mile. You brush your teeth—twice—to get the taste of Trent and craft beer out of your mouth. And then you stand in your bedroom surrounded by posters and magazines, surrounded by fantasies that you will never wrap your hands around. You glance at the box full of Jesse’s journals; you can see the cardboard edge of it poking out from beneath your bed. He’s gone, and he wasn’t perfect, in fact in many ways he was a curse, was a plague, was a monster. But I think my mom would give anything for one more day with him. After all these years, I still think she would.

The blue roses Aegon gave you are in a vase on your nightstand, right next to the phone. They’re already dying. And now your throat is burning, and your eyes are wet with tears, and when defenseless sobs rip from your chest there is no one here to hear them. I don’t want to protect myself from what it would have been like with him. I want to know.

You snatch up the phone, find the Post-it note with Aegon’s number written on it, call him before you have time to change your mind. When he answers, it’s clear you woke him up. His voice is slow and groggy. “Hello?”

“Can I come over?”

“Huh…?”

“Can I please come over? I need to come over. I need to come over right now.”

Now he’s awake. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, I’m fine, I’m safe, I just…I just…” You swipe the tears from your eyes and take a long, trembling breath. “I just need to come over.”

“No problem,” Aegon says. He is puzzled, he is concerned…but you think a part of him is glad too. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

You drive your Jeep to his apartment building and park it—badly, crookedly, like he would—under a streetlight. The night is fiercely, brutally cold when you dive out into it. The full moon is an island; the indigo, star-flecked sky is an ocean deep with secrets and bones and wreckage, splinters of swallowed lives dissolving into the blue. Upstairs, Aegon’s door is already unlocked. He’s wearing a black Nirvana T-shirt and green flannel pajama pants, his hair disheveled. He’s also making hot chocolate.

“Hi,” he says casually, filling the mugs. He adds splashes of French vanilla coffee creamer—plus some 99 Whipped for his green mug—and swirls of whipped cream, then shaves on a generous dusting of Hershey’s chocolate. He gives you the blue mug. You take it in quivering hands. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m amazing.”

“Okay.” He waits, patient and watchful, sipping his hot chocolate.

You feel better after a few minutes tick by. Aegon’s apartment is serene and still. The tv is dark; there’s no music, no voices, no distractions. You can barely hear the screech of the Arctic wind outside. The only light turned on is the one in the kitchen; the rest of the apartment is shadows. The hot chocolate is warm, rich, comforting, safe. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty great,” Aegon replies. “Normal.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He gazes at you, still waiting.

You finish your hot chocolate and put the mug in the kitchen sink. You take your hair out of your braid and shake it loose, surveying his apartment with aimless steps: his couch, his guitar, his litany of refrigerator magnets, his unmade bed. Aegon sets his mug down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Appletini,” he says. “Why are you here?”

You turn back to him, but you can’t find your words. It’s on your face, it has to be; it’s in a language Aegon can speak fluently. You see the understanding flicker in his eyes like firelight: sudden, bright, exhilarated.

“Say it,” he prompts. “You have to say it, or I’m not going to believe you.”

You try, you really do try. But you can’t get the words to leave your lips. You don’t know how to put what you want from him into words at all. Anything, everything.

He smiles, softly like a whisper. “Me first, huh?” Then he begins undressing. He yanks his Nirvana T-shirt over his head—further tangling his hair—and tosses it across the room. He slips off his pajama pants, and then his boxers too. He’s standing there in the florescent kitchen light, flesh and ink and track marks and scars. “Okay, your turn. If you’re still interested.”

“I want you to do that part.”

He crosses the scuffed hardwood floor, his footsteps quiet. His fingers find the top button of your flannel shirt. His eyes are fixed on yours as he unhooks the first button, another, another after that. He leans in to press his lips to your throat, just beneath your jaw. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, he kisses his way down to your collarbone as he unfastens the rest of the buttons and gently pulls off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He slips his hands below the hem of the T-shirt you’re wearing underneath and lifts it away, his knuckles grazing your belly, your waist, your ribs, the lace of your bra. And then he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you with exceptional, reverent slowness, like you’re something that could shatter. You can’t reconcile this man with the sort of wild acrobatics that Kimmie had described. And then you’re not thinking about Kimmie at all. The past is a black hole, the future is an empty sky. There’s no room in this lightning-brief sliver of eternity for anyone else.

You breathe him in: sweetness, warmth, the bite of alcohol, fire and shadows and light. He unbuttons your jeans, unzips them, kneels down to peel them off of you. He touches his lips to your thigh—first the outside, then the downy-soft inside—and hesitates for a moment before he stands to kiss your lips again. His hands skim across your bare back towards the clasp of your bra, raising goosebumps like twilight stars. And then again, he hesitates. His hands come back to your face, his fingertips calloused but lithe.

“You’re nervous,” you murmur, smiling. You tuck his escaped lock of hair behind his ear, pressing yourself against him: hips, chest, soul. The sapphire blue lace of your bra and panties rustles across his skin. You can’t get close enough to him; it’s not possible, it’s not fathomable. He’s holding himself back, you can tell. He’s panting with the effort. In the midnight silence, you can hear every sound he makes with crystalline clarity. The moonlight pours in, painting you both in ghostly silver light.

Aegon chuckles shakily. “I am,” he admits.

“I think you’ve done this once or twice before.”

“Yeah, but not with you.”

“I want this,” you say, your lips to the curl of his ear. His skin is hot with eager, rushing blood. “And I want you to be the one to set me free.”

Something snaps in him, something breaks like a wave. Your bra tumbles to the floor, your panties are whisked away, you and Aegon are on the bed together tangled up like arteries flush with life. There is a breathless sort of desperation in it: in the way your fingers intertwine, in his gasps and your moans, in the sustained pleasure—so intense it borders on pain—that causes euphoric tears to spring up in your eyes, in his deep, startlingly powerful thrusts that begin slowly and then build to a furious rhythm. And you know then that he agrees, it’s not possible to ever get close enough to each other; but still, you resolve to try.

“Look at me, baby,” Aegon whispers as you arch into him and you beg him not to stop, his palm turning your face towards his. “Look at me, look at me, look at me…”

You unravel like thread torn from a spool until its empty, like a mystery, like stitches clipped from a healed wound. There’s an insurmountable sort of peace that follows it. Nothing is okay, and yet everything is, and you can conjure up no words but only colors: the white of snow, the indigo of the night sky, the gold of the rare unclouded midday sun, the ethereal green-violet glow of the Northern Lights. Aegon empties himself inside you, crying out and kissing the side of your face over and over again, tasting heat and salt and your unnamed love for him. You can feel the serenity settling over him as if it’s your own pulse slowing, your own mind cleared like the horizon after a storm. You are irredeemably etched into each other. You are two sides of the same coin: too weightless, too rooted, unable to leave, unable to stay.

As you lay side by side in the moonlight, your fingers tangled in his hair, Aegon says: “You are the only thing that’s ever made me want to stop running.”

“You could stay. I want you to stay.”

“For a while.” He pulls you against him. You rest your head on his chest: ink, scars, slow thudding heartbeat. His fingertips draw invisible paths up the length of your spine. “Not forever. But for a while.”

She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“I don’t want to have to forget you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Not yet,” Aegon vows. It’s the only promise he can make. He kisses your forehead, sweeping the tears from your cheeks with his hands. “Not yet.”