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buckysgrace · 1 month ago

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Mittens

A Christmas party leaves Steve hopeful as he finally admits his feelings.

CW: mentions of past pseudocest, mentions of alcohol, weed use, blowjobs, fem!oral sex, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, some spitting and cum swapping, implied former pseudocest

Another gift for my sweet @sadhours who has been denied the gift of these two for so long. I hope you enjoy <3

Art at the bottom by @Scott1505236401 on twitter!! Her commissions are open!!

Kim

Kim stood in the corner, nursing a cup of sparkling cider as she examined the room in front of her. They had pushed the racks of movies towards the back of the room, leaving space to bring out the fold out tables. The air was sickeningly sweet, likely from all the desserts that had been brought out.

She hadn’t been working at Family Video for very long, but it gave her more money than her previous job had. She felt bad for Susan, her mother. She knew she needed to help out in some way, so that’s what she did. She worked most nights, bringing her homework in on the slow nights so she wouldn’t fall behind in her classes.

The decorations had been thrown together last minute, strung up haphazardly about twenty minutes ago because Keith had failed to mention that he wanted the store to actually be decorated. It was messier than what she was used to, the simple decorations mirroring the ones that were currently strung up in her trailer. But she had at least made it look nicer.

It wasn’t quite elbow to elbow, but there were more people than usual within the store. Partners were allowed to be brought, which signaled her out. She didn’t have anyone to bring along. She had attempted Max, figuring that her sister would make it less lonely, but she had refused in the end.

“Pretty boring.” A soft voice appeared behind her, making her startle at the sudden intrusion.

“Oh,” she jumped, nearly toppling her drink over in the process. Steve reached out at the same time she did, balancing her cup so that only a little bit of the liquid toppled out onto their fingers, “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that was my bad,” he said with a little laugh, shaking his head as he quickly grabbed them a few napkins, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He replied quickly, beginning to dab her fingertips clean. She blinked, trying to remember where he had disappeared to.

He had long removed his vest, the same way she had. His sweater was green, filled with various Christmas designs. She thought it looked cute, meanwhile hers was a bulbous white one. It had been her father’s years ago and was much too big for her, making her look like a giant marshmallow. But it was the only thing that she had.

“You didn’t,” she gulped, realizing how snappy she sounded, “I mean, maybe you did a little bit.” She replied in a joking manner, breathing in deeply to make herself relax. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous suddenly. She’d spent a lot of time with him recently, he was a good friend. In some way.

“Sorry,” he apologized, giving her a little grin, “I’ll announce myself better next time.” He added as she set her drink down, moving the napkin across the rim, so the cup wouldn’t be sticky.

“It’s fine,” She shook her head, “I was just distracted.” She admitted a second later, feeling like that was the best way to describe how she had been for the past few months. Everything felt rushed, but also slow at the same time. Like she’d been stuck in some sort of weird rut.

“She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Steve asked her as he turned his attention back to Robin, his arms crossed in some proud way at the way she spoke to Vickie. She hadn’t came with Robin for obvious reasons, but they lingered by each other now. They were laughing about something, Kim wondered what.

“How long ago did they get together?” she asked softly, keeping her voice low just to be safe. She didn’t want to be the reason that Robin got exposed. But they were a cute couple, she just wouldn’t say that out loud.

“Why, are you jealous?” he teased as he watched her, his eyes flickering with warmth. Her lips parted, wondering if he still thought that she had some sort of crush on Robin.

“No,” she squeaked out quickly, her face burning once again, “They just look really cute together is all.” She nodded her head in determination as she continued to watch them, feeling like there was a knife going through her heart. It had nothing to do with Robin, rather how she deeply missed having someone to laugh with in that manner. She missed him.

“A few months ago,” he replied a second later, his eyes warm against her face, “I’m glad I’m not the only single one here.” He added softly, his eyes still lingering on her face. She didn’t have the strength to look at him, embarrassed at how her relationship had fallen apart.

“Me too,” she told him softly, “It feels nice not to stick out.” She told him truthfully as they fell into silence once again. She still hadn’t really mastered how to speak to Steve, knowing that she overthought every little interaction. Even when they worked together they were mostly quiet. Silent but comfortable.

“How are things with you and -,” he began to bring him, his features turning to confusion as she faced him for the first time.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, cheeks burning and eyes widening in fear that he would mutter his name. She didn’t need her heart to break all over again, “There’s nothing between us. We’re over.” She told him, the words clawing at her mouth like knives. It didn’t feel right to say that out loud, even if it was true. Well, at least for Billy.

It made sense that when Neil left, Billy left too. Even if he didn’t leave with his father, what else did Billy have left in this town? It wasn’t even worth staying another year for her. No, she had gotten left behind too.

She found out two weeks after he left that he had hooked a ride with Tommy; made his way back to California. Where he belonged. He sounded happy, at least at first. She remembered when they’d spend hours talking over the phone, how she would write so many letters that it made her hand cramp and fingers stiff.

Now she was too afraid to even dial the phone, knowing that she had become a burden again. He was out living his life; one of freedom. Like he deserved, and she couldn’t be angry at that. The last time they spoke she could hear the guilt in his voice, how his tone strained. And she couldn’t be the one to force him.

But she still wrote to him, even though she didn’t send them. The letters were hidden in her dresser drawer, slowly becoming reminders that she wasn’t good enough. She was sure they would be too heavy for him to read anyway, too tear soaked to make out the words. It served as just a little reminder for herself.

“Oh,” he blinked slowly, like he didn’t understand, “That’s too bad.” She could tell by his tone that he was being honest, even if him and Billy hadn’t grown to be very close. She wished she could explain it more, but she was unable to. She knew she’d only end up crying if she opened up the scar on her heart.

“I heard that you and Gina broke up,” she stated suddenly, crossing her arms over her chest in fear that he could see the gaping wound that was her heart. It felt easier to put him on the spot, even if it felt a little mean right now.

“Mutual agreement,” he said quickly as he took a long gulp from his cup, “I think she loves someone else.” His reply was soft, yet bitter at the same time. She felt bad for him, knowing that this was the second big heartbreak that he had gone through.

“That sucks,” she nodded her head as she allowed herself to meet his big brown eyes, his features warm against the soft flickering of the Christmas lights. There was something soft in the way he composed himself, how he looked at her. It was different from a few months ago.

“I guess I’m used to it,” he gave his shoulders a little shrug, a small smile on his lips as he teased himself. She nodded her head in agreement, wishing she had some sort of advice to give him. But she had none. She still hadn’t finished nursing her heartbreak.

“I didn’t realize there would be so many couples here.” She told him instead, surprised that so many of her coworkers had someone else. She wished that she wasn’t so bitter and jealous. She wanted to have someone.

“I knew there would be as soon as Keith started talking about the girl he was seeing.” He snorted as he leaned against the counter, cocking his eyebrows like he was surprised. Keith’s girlfriend seemed nice, at least from the brief interaction they’d had with one another.

“They make a really good couple.” She nodded her head as she pressed her lips together in a smile, hoping that would at least keep Keith off of her back. He wasn’t a creep, but he had attempted to ask her out more than what she was comfortable with.

“Odd.” He snorted softly, taking her by surprise. Okay, maybe they did look a little odd but there was nothing wrong with that. Odd was better than nothing.

“Odd can be good,” she giggled softly as she watched him, “At least he’s happy.” She hummed as she stole another cookie off of the tray, feeling like she hadn’t gone overboard on eating her feelings tonight.

“Good for at least one of us.” He mumbled as he shook his head, reaching across her to grab a similar cookie from the tray. He munched on it roughly, looking as if he still had something to say.

“Come on,” Robin rushed over, the fake antlers on her head nearly toppling over, “We’re starting the gift exchange.” She grinned in excitement as she gestured back towards the table of presents. Kim watched her for a moment, observing how her shirt was similar to Steve’s. They must’ve gotten it together, or maybe it was an older version of his.

“I want to open mine first.” He stated proudly, making her heart drop a little bit. She didn’t want him to open his first, fearful that he wouldn’t like it. She didn’t want everyone to have to witness his displeasure.

“Now?” Her voice cracked as she asked the question, her feet dragging on the floor as she followed them towards the messy table. Her pulse had quickened against the crook of her neck as her nerves settled on top of her. She wasn’t happy with how this was going.

“Yes.” He stated sternly and proudly, his lips curling into a bright grind. He looked determined, making her emotions much more worried than she had been.

She had panicked the second since she read who she had gotten for the gift exchange. Steve. It was like fate was cruelly digging its nails into her once again, because how else would the poorest one end up having to buy something for the richest coworker. What was she supposed to get for someone who had everything?

From working late night shifts with him, she knew that he liked junk food. Popcorn with extra butter with some Raisinets thrown in there. In fact, his sweet tooth certainly challenged hers. More often than not, they’d end up sharing multiple bags of candy before the night was over. That was a start.

She forced herself to move, even though she felt like she had cement bricks stuck to her feet. She picked up the bag that she had delicately assembled, taking a deep breath as she walked towards him.

“This is mine then?” He questioned as she passed the bag to him, her heart hammering at the way his brown eyes softened as he took it from her. She breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the flush in her cheeks as she gave a quick nod of her head in confirmation, “Sweet.” He was still watching her as he held the bag close to his lap, lips curled into a gentle smile.

She sat back near Robin again, nervously twiddling her hair as he began to roughly pull the gift wrap out of the bag. He didn’t unwrap things neatly like Billy did, quite the opposite actually. He was excited, like he couldn’t wait to see what was inside.

“I hope you like it,” she added softly, feeling worried as he began to pull items out of the bag, “I wasn’t sure what to get you.” She told him seriously, wishing that he had written on the list of suggested items. He had only shrugged and told Robin that he needed nothing when she had asked.

“Candy,” he grinned as he pulled it out, “Going straight for my heart.” He was teasing, but that did nothing to stop her pulse from quickening against the side of her neck. She wasn’t trying to impress him. Well, maybe she had been a bit. She just didn’t want to be labeled as a bad gift giver either.

“It’s all grape flavored.” Robin stated as she leaned over, inspecting the various candy bags that he pulled free. She wrinkled her nose up, looking less than pleased by the choices.

“I love grape.” He stated as he wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion, pausing his movements as he looked at her seriously. Kim breathed in deeply at his confirmation, recalling how he always ate the grape flavored candies that they shared.

“You’re odd, Harrington.” She replied as she sat back in her spot, only to be hit with a piece of wadded up wrapping paper. She scoffed, shoving at Steve as he dug back into his bag.

“Some music,” he replied proudly as he waved the tape around, “A new wallet, some cologne, a mug-,” He paused as he looked up at her, eyebrows crinkling together, “Kim, there’s a bunch of items in here.” He replied as his eyes met hers, a puzzled look on his features. She shifted in her chair, feeling uncomfortable by the people that turned towards her. Now, she felt like she had overdone herself.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” she blushed harshly, feeling like she really hadn’t gone overboard, “There’s just one more thing at the bottom.” She said softly, watching as he began to tug the yarn out of the bottom of the bag. She wondered if she should have said anything at all, or if it would’ve been better for him to find it later on his own. Or to destroy it. It wasn’t any of her business.

It had taken her some time to figure out what colors he would like, but she finally landed on a soft red. She knew handmade items weren’t very popular, but she hoped he liked it the same.

“Wow,” he paused as he examined it, holding it out to make her wince. She hadn’t realized just how long she had made it, “I love it.” He told her genuinely, eyes cozy and syrupy as they made contact again.

“Really?” She asked him as she bit back her smile, feeling relieved suddenly. He had been a lot harder to shop for than what she had expected and she knew that had made gifts weren’t really wanted, but he had at least mentioned that he enjoyed practical things. A scarf was practical.

“Yeah,” he smiled as he looped it around his neck. She winced, noting that she had definitely made it too long, “This is definitely going to keep me warm. And I can’t wait to listen to the mixtape.” He nodded his head encouragingly, making her feel much better.

“I don’t know much about music,” she started as she crossed her legs, twisted her fingers through her hair, “So I hope you like it.” She said softer this time, trying to keep herself from bouncing her leg up and down. She could feel her face burning, her nerves shot as she waited for someone else to grab a present. She was not going next.

“My turn,” Robin clapped her hands as she stood up, grinning widely as Keith brought her rather heavy looking bag over, “Thank you.” She shared a quick look with Steve, something that everyone else seemed to miss. He rubbed the side of his temple, like he already knew it would be bad.

“What did you get?” Vickie questioned as she began to dig through her bag, paper and glitter flying through the air as she did so. Kim leaned forward, trying to get a better look at it.

“Fruitcake,” Robin responded, a tight smile forming on her lips, “Gee, thanks. I love fruitcake.” She nodded as she held up the loaf of fruitcake, lumpy and neatly browned. Steve covered his palm over his mouth, hiding away his grin.

“My mom made it,” he said proudly, nodding his head, “Oh, but there’s a gift card in there.” He said at last, at least making it up to her in some way. At least he tried, even though Robin’s list had been long and detailed.

“I also love shopping, so thank you,” she nodded as she put her items back in her bag, “Well, let’s keep going.” She pressed her lips tightly together, eyes crinkling as Steve nudged her foot with his. A little knowing gesture, reminding her that they would be discussing that later.

Kim watched as the rest of them opened their presents, deciding that she would just prefer to go last anyway. She wasn’t too keen on everyone watching her, but she supposed she’d have to suffer like the rest of them had.

She held her fingers tightly together, trying to keep herself from chewing her lipstick off as everyone else engaged in conversation around her. She wasn’t really sure how to talk to anyone else, despite spending so much time working with them. Like she was an outsider.

“Here,” she blinked up in surprise, not expecting for Steve to be the one that had her name, “I got this for you.” He clarified as he held it out towards her, his hair falling onto his forehead. It was slightly longer than it had been over the summer.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, examining the wrapped present in front of her. It was messy, with at least five bows shoved on top of it to likely cover up the pieces of the wrapping paper that had come undone, “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

She gently ripped the paper apart, revealing a box that had the top messily folded in on itself. She pulled that open next, beginning to dig through the items. There were four different copies of various romance novels, new ones that she hadn’t read. A pink pair of fuzzy socks, a lotion and perfume set, and then a smaller box inside.

She pressed it open softly, eyes widening as she revealed the pair of earrings. There were two gems, a small circle one that rested against her earlobes and then a long oval one that would dangle. They were green, emeralds she assumed. Along the edges of the emeralds were smaller golden stones, making her sure that he had definitely gone over their twenty dollar budget.

“Do you like it?” He asked her, his tone filled with just as many nerves as hers had been. She wasn’t sure how he thought she’d say no. Of course she loved it.

“Yeah,” she told him in surprise, blinking quickly, “It’s stunning. All of it. Thank you.” She told him quickly, feeling like her heart had only started to bleed harder. She wasn’t going to allow herself to feel the cracks, to break down. Not now. This was something good.

“Good,” he smiled at her, lines forming underneath his eyes from where he was grinning so hard, “The green reminded me of your eyes.” He told her, leaving her surprised. She had never had anyone mention that the green stuck out.

“We should do a round of white elephant.” Robin suggested as she clasped her hands together, taking Kim by surprise. She jumped as she quickly turned away from him, hoping that he didn’t feel that she was staring at him. She was just grateful.

“What’s that?” Steve asked as he drew his eyes away, his eyebrows furrowing together at the way she smirked at him. She held her gift back up dramatically, giving it a little shake.

“You get a chance to steal a present,” she nodded, smiling brightly, “And then that person gets to take someone else’s gift.” She gave her shoulders a little shrug, earning a little round of agreements through the room. Kim stared back down at the jewelry in her hands.

“Sure,” she glanced around, only because she didn’t want to be the only one to disagree, “That seems like fun.” She replied as she kept a tight grip on her present, unwilling to let it go. She didn’t think it would be right to give her present up, not when Steve had spent time thinking about what she would like. And how he had based a gift around her eyes. It was special.

“I can start then,” Robin declared as she held her hands together, her blue eyes falling to Steve’s gifts on his lap, “Hand it over, Harrington.” She replied proudly with a smirk, moving her hand up to tug on the bottom of her scarf.

“No.” He said quickly as he pulled away, his eyebrows furrowed tightly together as he picked up his bag and held onto it tightly. She felt herself sighing underneath her breath, feeling relieved that he didn’t want to let it go so easily.

“You have to.” Robin protested as she looked at him in disbelief, glancing around the room to wait for some kind of support. But no one else intervened. Kim liked Robin, but she didn’t want Steve to pass it along either.

“I’m not giving it up.” He said as he shook his head sternly, looking serious as he clutched the bag closer to himself. She felt her chest lurch as he glanced towards her, amusement brewing inside his eyes.

“That’s not how the game works.” She continued to protest, kicking her feet out this time as she whined. He shrugged his shoulders, looking like it wasn’t his problem.

“Well I don’t care,” he retorted, “It’s mine and I’m not giving it up.” He replied as he leaned towards her, giving her a grin. She scoffed as she placed her palm over his face and roughly pushed him away.

“You’re such a spoiled brat.” She huffed as she rolled her eyes, scanning the room as she tried to decide on who to attack next. Kim pulled her bag closer to herself, just to be safe. She tried to remain relaxed, however, just in case Robin was looking for someone that wanted to keep their gift.

“You’re just jealous that I got the best gift.” He replied proudly as he fussed with his now messy hair, then wiped at his face from where she had pushed him. Something inside of Kim bloomed from his words, excitement tickling the butterflies inside of her stomach. She hadn’t felt this giddy in a long time. It confused her. But she had long learned that the deeper she thought about her feelings, the more confused and upset she grew. It wasn’t worth meddling in.

Robin tried a few more times before she ended up unsuccessful, stuck with her lumpy loaf of fruitcake. She felt bad, but she didn’t want to exchange with her either. Her gift truly did feel special. She couldn’t wait to tell Max about it and Susan-, even though she knew she’d be teased about it.

No one tried to steal her gift, which she was happy with. She was sure that she wouldn’t be able to defend herself in the same way that Steve had. All the confidence she felt like she had gained over the summer had slowly seemed to slide away, disappearing just like he had.

She took one more swig from her cup, wishing that there was something stronger in it as she downed the rest of the liquid. She checked the clock on the wall, confirming that Susan would be home by now. She just hoped that she hadn’t forgotten about her again.

“Thanks for this again,” Steve approached her, making her jump once again. She laughed awkwardly as she rubbed at her chest, unsure of why she was so tense, “I really love it.” He told her as a soft smile spread across her lips, making her wonder why she had ever stopped liking him in the first place.

“Well,” Keith grinned at the two of them, holding his items in hand as he wiggled his way between into the small gap, “I hope you don’t mind locking up.” He added slowly, making her blanch.

“What do you mean?” Steve spoke up, looking just as irritable as she felt. She fought the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. She needed this job, but it was late. She wanted to get home and have a good cry. She thought she was allowed to do that.

“You were on shift so,” he nodded his head as he looked at them back and forth, “I sort of need you to clean up.” He added as a kind smile filled his lips. She closed her eyes, feeling like she should’ve known there would’ve been a reason nobody else wanted this shift.

“But this is everyone’s mess.” Steve gestured about, his expression dripping with frustration. She bit her lip as she shrugged her jacket off of her shoulders again, feeling like there was no point in arguing. She just hoped she’d be paid for it.

“But you’re off tomorrow, so that’s fun!” Keith added as he clapped his hands together, the sound muffled from the mittens on his gloves. She supposed he was right. Maybe it was only fair. Or maybe she was just too tired to argue with him.

“It’s fine,” Kim nodded her head, interjecting the two of them, “It won’t take long to finish up.” She tried to sound as encouraging as she could, even though she wanted to kick her feet in defeat. Closing always seemed so much worse when she was wanting to rush to get out.

The glitter and garlands had seemed to be a good idea at first, but now it was more of a pain to get it all tore down. They ended up discarding them into old paper bags, unsure if anyone was wanting to keep them or not. Steve had already torn down two of the windows before she had asked if it was supposed to be kept up until the year was officially over. Neither of them knew the answer, so they went with no.

Once the racks were back to normal and freshly organized after she had accidentally toppled once over, they decided it was good enough for them to leave. Everything looked like it was back to normal, for the most part.

“I need to call my mom,” she said as she glanced at the time, “She’s supposed to come and get me.” She replied as she peeked out the windows again, noting how it was vacant. Steve’s car was the only one that was sitting there nicely, covered with a fresh layer of snow.

“Sure,” he nodded his head, “I’ll wait.” He shrugged his shoulders as he leaned against the desk, his scarf wrapped loosely around his neck.

She winced as she typed in the number, taking in a deep breath as she reminded herself that the phone bill had been paid. That couldn’t be the excuse this time. She listened as it rang and rang, and rang a little more. No answer. She hung the phone up in defeat, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

“She’s not answering,” she pressed her lips together, trying not to think about what that meant, “It’s not a long walk from here.” She replied as she wrinkled her features up, thinking of how painful it would be. It was even colder than the last time she had done it. And it was much darker. She didn’t like walking in the dark around here.

“You’re joking.” He replied as he stared at her in disbelief, his brown eyes wide as he quickly shook his head. She paused, not wanting to argue about this.

“No,” she gulped, “I mean it’s fine.” She squeaked out as she glanced at how the snowflakes only seemed to get larger and fatter. She might freeze to death on the way home, but at least she tried.

“It’s snowing outside.” He pointed out as he gestured towards the parking lot that was covered in a thick layer of snow, making her lips part as she tried to think of a way to brush his statement off. Maybe she could sleep in the back office.

“I’ll be okay.” She said once again, forcing a smile onto her lips. She felt like things could be worse. She was sure Susan just lost track of time. Maybe if she called again, she’d answer. Or Max would.

“I can give you a ride home.” He told her in determination as he moved his hands to his hips, looking genuine. He spoke like he wasn’t going to give her another option.

“It’s out of your way.” She told him seriously. It was way out of his way, on the opposite side of town actually. She would feel bad. And in all honesty, she was a little embarrassed of her current address. She wasn’t sure what he would think about the trailer park when he came from somewhere so nice.

“Or you could come over,” he suggested slowly, his hands relaxing on his sides, “Just to like, hang or whatever.” He stated slowly, his expression relaxing as his gaze remained locked on hers. She shifted on her feet.

“Oh.” She said softly, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth as her face burned. She blinked as she began to tug on her hair, trying to keep from concentrating on the way her heart was beating inside of her chest. Had he really just asked her to come over?

“I have alcohol and weed,” he continued on, suddenly looking a little nervous, “And my parents aren’t back yet. It gets a little lonely.” He told her at last, making her eyebrows raise at the way he revealed his answer. She glanced back outside as she thought about it, deciding it was better than walking in the snow. And having to deal with Susan and her drinking problem.

And she’d finally be able to really hang out with him. On her own. It was terrifying yet exciting at the same time. She had no idea what she was going to say, how she was going to act. But she might not ever get a chance to do it again.

“Okay,” she replied at last, “Sure, but I don’t want to intrude.” She added softly as she pressed her fingers together this time, feeling like she would only be bothering him.

“You’re not,” he reassured her quickly, “And there’s a spare room. I could take you back tomorrow.” He pressed his lips together as he shifted the scarf over his shoulders again, his expression relaxed and kind.

“I have nothing to wear.” She added again, not sure if she really wanted to sleep in her current outfit. She bit her bottom lip, watching as joy grew on his features. She felt her nerves spark to life again, wondering if she really deserved for him to look at her in that manner.

“I could loan you something.” He shrugged his shoulders as he continued to watch her, his body relaxed and calm. She nodded her head once again, feeling like she was just trying to find excuses at his point.

“Okay.” She told him as she gathered her things, fairly certain that he could tell just how shy she had become. She held onto her gifts tightly, waiting as he grabbed his keys.

“Are you ready then?” he asked as he tilted his head, watching as she slowly nodded her head in agreement. There was nothing else she needed here, “You wanna share my extra warm scarf?” He asked as a playful smile formed on her lips, making her blush all over again.

“You don’t have to wear it.” She told him seriously as they walked towards the door, still debating if she had gotten him the wrong thing. He stopped, turning to look back at her.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked seriously, “I love it.” He expressed deeply, a grateful expression on his features as he held the door open for her. She held her breath as she walked out into the blistering cold, her exposed skin burning as the wind swept into her.

She sat out with him, scarf linked around both of their necks as he worked on getting the jammed door to shut. To get the door to lock, he had to wiggle it back and forth, then twist the key in just the right way. It was frustrating.

“And we’re good,” he said after he rattled the door harshly, just to ensure that it was really locked, “It’ll take just a minute for the car to warm up.” He apologized as he quickly walked forward, nearly choking her out and knocking them both over in the process. He held his hands up quickly, an apologetic look on his features as he steadied her.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, smiling as she untangled herself from the scarf and fixed it over his neck instead, “Better than walking home in the cold.” She told him truthfully, feeling her bones rattling in her body from how cold it truly was. She really wouldn’t have made it back.

“Right,” he nodded as he drifted his eyes across his features, “You’re probably not used to the snow.” He held his hands in his pockets as his eyes trailed down to her lips, his expression soft as she raised her eyebrows slightly.

“I hate the cold.” She admitted, fighting back a grin at the way he started to move again. Like he realized that he had been staring. She followed him to his car, taking cautious steps to keep from slipping on the layer of ice underneath the snow.

He held the door open for her, letting her get in first before he ran behind the car and reached the driver’s seat. She looked around at his neat car, breathing in the smell of citrus that lingered about. It was nice, different but in a good way.

“Shit, it’s freezing,” he huffed as he started the car, quickly turning on the heat as the music roared to life. She blinked in surprise, not used to him listening to such loud and heavy music, “Sorry.” He mumbled as he quickly turned it down. She thought about asking him when his taste in music had changed, but she decided not to do it right now.

“It’s alright,” she paused as she moved her hand forward, unable to stop herself, “You smoke?” She asked in surprise, a familiar feeling racing through her as she inspected the Marlboro Reds. They were heavy, like they had been untouched.

“Uh,” he stalled for a moment, “Off and on.” He shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. She nodded as she set them down, trying to recall if she had ever caught him smoking. She supposed that most people did; it was no big deal. Just surprising.

“This brand?” She was unable to let it go for a moment, like it was some bitter reminder. She shook her head before she set them back down.

“Sometimes,” he mumbled as his eyes drifted back towards her, “They’re really strong, though.” He admitted a moment later, bringing a smile to her lips. They really were strong, too intense for her to ever handle.

“And stinky.” She said with a little giggle as she thought of how extreme the smell was. She often felt like she’d cough a lung up just by smelling it.

“Really stinky.” He agreed with a little laugh as he laid his head back against the seat. She settled in the same, watching the gentle way the snowflakes fell onto the front of the car. She thought it was odd that she could still see the stars, however, but they were hard to hide away.

They settled into silence as the car continued to warm, the heat finally beginning to blaze to life as she rubbed her fingers together. Steve was better at driving in this type of weather, used to it in a way that she would never be accustomed to.

“You know, there was a while back that I mentioned my friend liking you? So I couldn’t break the friend code?” He spoke up suddenly, taking her by surprise as she looked away from where the trees were turning white. She thought about it for a moment as she nodded her head, trying not to recall how desperate she had been back then.

“Uh,” she flushed as she thought about it, “Yeah, I remember.” She added as she moved her cold hands underneath her thighs, trying to keep them warm. She turned towards him as he remained silent. He had one hand on the wheel, the other placed near the top of his head as he stuck his tongue out in concentration.

“Well, that friend is dating someone.” He said slowly as he stuck his tongue back in his mouth, keeping his gaze pointed straight ahead. She felt her eyes slightly narrowing, trying to decide where he was going with this.

“I’m glad for them.” She said kindly, meaning it too. She knew who he was speaking about, but she wouldn’t put Robin on the spot like that.

“So there’s not any code anymore,” he continued on, his voice lowering, “So maybe you'd want to go out sometime?” His tone was almost in a whisper by the time he finished speaking, his expression hopeful as he faced her again. She stared, momentarily taken aback.

“On a date?” She questioned, searching for clarification as her mouth suddenly felt dry. Everything was warm, her face and her insides. This wasn’t the way she pictured him asking her out, but she would take it.

“We could go to dinner or a movie, or even hang out here. Or at work.” He suggested as he used his one hand to gesture, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal. Meanwhile, she was fighting the urge to keep from kicking her feet and squealing.

“We do work together. Like all the time.” She reminded him lightly, sure that he could hear the excitement in her tone. She cleared her throat, trying to remind herself to stay calm. To be cool.

“Yeah.” He replied with a smile on his lips, his eyebrows raising as he nodded his head at her answer. She pressed her lips together, moving into her next question.

“Is that a good idea?” She asked him seriously, sure that things never went well when you got with a coworker. At least that’s what Addi had said. But what did she really know?

“We could find out,” he replied with a grin, “Come on, I’m a total gentleman.” He promised as he moved his hand over his chest, a sincere look in his eyes. She pressed a little smile to her lips, thinking that he was sincere.

“Does this count as a date?” She asked him softly, feeling like it sort of counted. Then again, she hadn’t been on many dates. But she didn’t think there was a certain rule over what a date consisted of.

“Absolutely,” he grinned as he pulled into a driveway, “As long as you’re alright with it.” He added a little softer, his gaze tender. Her heart hammered in her chest, fully aware of the way he was looking at her. It was different from the way Billy had watched her.

“I am,” she replied softly, “I’m more than fine with it.” She told him truthfully, trying to ignore the guilt that was brewing inside of her. She had nothing to feel bad for. She was single. She was allowed to move on, with whomever she wanted.

She carried her present into the house, glancing around in awe at how pretty the inside was. She knew the Harrington’s had money, but it was far more grand than she could’ve imagined. Perhaps the biggest house that she had ever set foot in.

The living room was vast, the fireplaces unlit but the room was still warm. Gold garland covered the room, neatly decorated in a specific and meaningful way. She could tell from the fresh smell and the way the branches were shaped that the tree was real. There were no lights on it, rather it was covered with the same golden garland. She took a step closer to it, admiring the various ornaments that decorated the limbs.

“My mom really liked gold this year,” Steve spoke up from behind her, somewhere in the kitchen as she continued to scan the items on the tree, “She picks something new every year.” He continued to explain as she knelt down, admiring the foam gold star that was hanging from the tree limb. She flicked it around, smiling at the picture that rested there.

Steve couldn’t be any older than eight, his hair messy and over his forehead as he smiled brightly. It must’ve been a school project, something that he had worked on years ago. It was sweet.

“So I’ve got uh,” he paused for a moment as he walked back into the room, “Some whiskey or we could smoke a little?” He suggested instead, his eyebrows cocked as she turned to face him. She thought about it for a moment, but decided that alcohol would be too dangerous for her. Anymore, she wasn’t very pleasant when she drank.

“Smoking sounds like fun.” She nodded her head as she followed him, slowly stripping her layers off. She felt awkward standing in the large room, surprised with how large everything was. She wasn’t used to being in a place so grand.

“It’s in my room,” he gestured back towards the stairs, chewing on his bottom lip, “It’s kinda messy.” He apologized as he met her eyes, but she simply shook her head. It couldn’t be any messier than the trailer was right now.

“I don’t mind,” she told him truthfully, holding onto the railing as she followed him upstairs, “Your house is huge. It’s very pretty.” She complimented, surprised by how quiet it was. She supposed that was to be expected, however, considering that there were no nearby neighbors. He didn’t have to worry about Eddie Munson playing his guitar annoying loud at three in the morning.

“That’s all thanks to my mom,” he paused as he glanced back towards her, “I guess you know her.” He crinkled his eyebrows together as she thought about it, reminding herself that she did know his mom.

“Oh yeah,” she nodded her head as she stepped into the room behind him, “She saw me naked.” It slid off of her tongue before she could stop herself, her cheeks flushing as she winced.

“Kinda her job,” he said with a chuckle as he walked towards his bedside table, pulling out a baggy as she inspected the odd wallpaper designs, “Do you want to take a hit first?” He questioned as he slid onto the floor, stretching his long arms out in front of him.

“You can.” She stated as she joined him on the floor. She crossed her ankles as she sat towards him, her knees brushing against his thigh.

“You know how to smoke it?” He questioned her as he held the joint between his lips, looking at her curiously before he lit it. It had been a long time since she’d done it, but she sort of knew what she was doing.

“Yeah,” she said with a little laugh, “I’ve done it before. Oh, but just once. I don’t smoke. Not really. My mom would freak out and I don’t like the taste.” She rambled on quickly, hoping that she wasn’t giving him the wrong idea.

“It’s fine,” he smiled as he watched her, “You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He told her kindly as he took a deep inhale, dropping his head back before he blew the smoke out from between his lips.

She held her fingers out as he passed it to her, trying to ignore the feeling of their fingers brushing together. She was suddenly nervous, her hand trembling as she brought the joint up to her lips. She tried not to think about how it had just been in her mouth, trying not to focus on if she might taste him on it.

She pressed it between her lips, praying that he couldn’t read just how nervous she was. She breathed in deeply, taking a larger hit than she would’ve preferred as she let the smoke settle in her lungs. She did her best to hold it for a second or two, but it smacked into her so roughly that she ended up coughing over it.

“You alright?” He asked worriedly as he brought his palm against her back, lightly patting her skin to help her hack up the smoke that was still clawing its way out of her chest. Her eyes burned, watering as she tried to find the strength to speak.

“Sorry,” she covered her mouth for a moment, her chest still rattling as she tried to hack up the smoke that was clinging to the bottom of her lungs, “That was a lot.” She told him weakly, a tear falling down her cheek as she passed the joint back towards him.

“You did good, Mayfield,” he teased, the sound of her last name rolling off of his tongue nearly made her lungs swell once again, “Try it again.” He encouraged as she rubbed at her chest with her free hand. She breathed in fresh air before she did as he said, taking a smaller hit this time. So much for trying to impress him.

They passed the joint back and forth until she felt a relaxing sensation settling over her. She felt like she was floating in the clouds, her mind calm and her body light. She crawled about the room, determined to inspect what she could.

“You like Lord of the Rings?” She asked as she pulled the book towards her, excitement tingling in her stomach as she blinked a few times to read the title. Her eyes felt heavy, squinted as she realized she was wearing a goofy smile.

Steve was standing for whatever reason, until she noted that he had put her things on his desk. He turned in surprise, eyebrows raising on his forehead as he looked at the book between her fingertips.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded his head quickly, hands resting on his hips, “It’s uh, it’s great.” He responded as he stuck his tongue out, eyebrows furrowing together like he was concentrating. Or remembering something.

“Sam is my favorite character,” she told him gently, pressing her lips together at the way his eyes widened, like he was searching for something to say, “That’s my dads name.” She added softly as she put the book back, wrapping her fingers around one of the other drawer handles.

“Your dad?” he questioned, features relaxing as his eyes warmed with interest, “Is your dad in San Diego?” He asked as he quickly joined her again, pressing his fingers against the drawer she nearly slid open. Like he was hiding something. She narrowed her eyes as she watched him, trying to determine if there was something secretive in there. She wanted to know.

“Mhm,” she nodded as she pressed her fingertips together, “He’s an alcoholic.” She stated, too tired to fight with his large hands. She moved around again, missing the expression on his features, before her legs felt like jello. Too much work, effort. She was limp.

She giggled as she laid down on the floor, her hands resting above her head as she stared up at the ceiling. She wished she had her little stars that she could stick onto it, feeling like it would be very interesting to look at right about now.

“What are you laughing about?” He asked as he joined her, resting on his side as he laid his cheek in his palm. She watched him, trying not to stare at the way his shirt pulled up in the process. She could make out about an inch of skin, just enough to show the trail of hair that dipped into his pants.

“I can’t believe I’m in your house.” She said as she slowly brought her eyes up towards him again, holding her hands together as another smile formed on her lips. She was sure that she had just gotten caught staring, but she couldn’t worry about it at the moment.

“Why?” He furrowed his eyebrows as his expression slowly relaxed, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. Like the weed had finally hit him.

“I thought you hated me.” She told him seriously, softly. She was exposing a secret, one that she was sure he didn’t know. But then again, maybe he had hated her at one point.

“Hated you?” he asked, tilting his head in disbelief, “I never hated you. I told you the whole thing with Rob-, I mean my friend, I couldn’t just intervene.” He said with a serious nod of his head, a small laugh slipping from his lips.

“Alright.” She narrowed her eyes playfully before she turned back towards the ceiling, wondering if she could make out any designs from that far up. She held her hands out in front of her, stretching her fingers out as she did so.

“I didn’t think you were actually into me anyway,” he said, making her crinkle her eyebrows together as she looked at him in disbelief, “Okay, maybe you made it a little obvious.” He admitted as he laughed, making her giggle all over again.

“I’ll be embarrassed about that tomorrow.” She said as she roughly dropped her hands to her sides, wincing at the hard way she hit the floor. She knew she had been obvious about it. Damn it.

“You shouldn’t be,” he huffed as he turned her chin in his direction, “I also liked you.” His tone was softer, huskier as he admitted it to her. She giggled again, surprised at how close they were to one another.

“But you didn’t do dumb things like I did.” She told him honestly, thinking about how she would desperately search for him no matter where she went. Even if it was grocery shopping with Susan. She sought him out. It was embarrassing.

“What did you do?” He asked suddenly, tilting his head as his eyes lingered on her lips again. He had a similar goofy smile on his lips, only she was sure that he wore it a lot better than she did.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, thinking of her stupid journal. Good riddance to it. Steve would never know about it, “You’re being tricky.” She pushed at his shoulder gently, her fingers remaining as he moved back against her.

“Am I?” He teased her, his hand falling to the side of her face. She was aware of how hard her heart was beating against her bones as he slowly tucked her hair behind her ear. She gulped hard, recalling the similar motions. He rubbed his fingers across her cheek next, then against her chin.

“Are you a virgin?” She asked him suddenly, unsure of why that slipped off of her tongue. It made her laugh all over again. It was a ridiculous question, but she was curious.

“Am I a-,” he paused as he looked at her, his expression turning to disbelief before he started to laugh, “Did you really ask me that?” He laughed, the gap between their faces suddenly fading.

“I did,” she confirmed with a nod of her head, feeling a grin form on her lips, “I know you’re not.” She said at last, tracing her finger across the design on his sweater.

“And how do you know that?” His question surprised her, because it wasn’t uncommon knowledge at all. She had heard a lot of things when she first moved here.

“Lots of girls talk,” she explained, “And I heard about how you took Nancy’s virginity.” She teased as she thought about it, thinking about how badly she had wanted him to take hers. She was silly back then.

“Tommy?” He grumbled as he asked, sighing like he already knew. She bit her lip, wondering if she should give the answer away.

“He has a big mouth,” she giggled as she held her hands to her chest, “I like him though. He’s sweet.” She admitted as she nodded her head roughly. Even though Tommy was gone now, and he could be a dick.

“Only because he wants to get into your pants.” He grumbled as he fell down next to her, resting his arms behind his head. His shirt lifted higher this time, all the way up to his belly button. She stared greedily, wondering if he liked when people kissed that exposed area of his skin.

“What was your favorite thing to do during sex?” She interrogated him as she rolled onto her side this time, doing everything she could to keep from reaching out and touching him. She suddenly felt warm, like there was energy buzzing inside of her.

“What’s with all the sex questions?” He turned towards her, a lazy look resting across his features as his lips curled into an even deeper grin. He thought she was teasing him, but she really wasn’t. But she was still with it enough to know that she shouldn’t admit to being horny right now.

“I haven’t had sex in a long time,” she admitted, “Well-,” She paused as she counted on her fingers, then restarted once she lost track, “Almost five months. Which is a long time, but not the biggest stretch I’ve ever had, you know?” She spoke out loud, surprising herself. Maybe he didn’t want to know that.

“You’re odd.” He said at last, laughing as he looked at her. It took her a moment to realize that he was being funny too. It would not be fun to get kicked out of his house in this condition.

“I think I miss sex,” she whispered underneath her breath, watching the way his hazy eyes widened, “But like a specific kind of sex, you know? Were you like that?” She asked him, feeling like he could relate to a heartbreak or two. There had been Nancy and then there was Gina. Poor guy faced it back to back.

“I’m still in a rut,” he muttered as he exhaled deeply, wrinkling his nose up, “But yeah, I guess I know what you mean.” He was staring at the wall this time, looking to be deep in through.

She continued to let her eyes drop back to his exposed stretch of skin, imagining herself crawling over to him. She thought about placing her lips just above his jeans, then kissing up towards his belly button. She wondered if it was wrong that she wanted to taste him, just to flick her tongue out and tease him a little bit.

“What kind of sex do you miss?” He asked curiously, drawing her out of her dirty thoughts. She could vaguely feel the warmth dipping down between her legs, making her clit throb in pleasure. There was a lot of sex that she missed. All of it.

“Blowjobs,” she answered quickly, surprising herself, “I don’t know why I just said that.” She said with wide eyes, covering her mouth as she muffled her laughter. He sat up, sadly making his shirt slid back down in the process.

“You haven’t been with anyone else, right?” He asked her curiously, his eyes slightly reddened. She looked at how messy his hair was, like he had been messing with it.

“Is that a problem?” she asked seriously, feeling a little worried, “No, I haven’t been with anyone else. But I think I know what I’m doing.” She replied as confidently as she could. At least, she thought she was doing a good job.

“Are you bragging?” He questioned her, looking whimsical. But maybe he was admiring her once again. She couldn’t really tell. Not in this state.

“No,” she replied quickly, a goofy smile forming on her lips, “I’m just saying that I’m somewhat experienced. I think.” She added at last, giggling as she brought her hands over her face.

“Are you going to ask me what I miss?” He hummed, suddenly leaning over her as he pulled her hands away from her face. She stared up at his big brown eyes, enjoying the shape of them. There was something about them that made her feel warm, wanted. She kept herself near him, not wanting him to move his fingers away from her wrists.

“Oh, yes,” she nodded her head urgently, “What do you miss about sex, Steve Harrington?” She asked as she bit down on her bottom lip, stretching her legs out as she shifted softly. She wondered if he knew just how much this was effecting her.

“I liked eating pussy,” he said as he rolled on his back, sighing deeply, “I mean I like it. I just haven’t been able to do it in a while.” His expression was almost sinister, showing just how much he craved it.

“Why?” she wondered out loud, “You’ve had dates.” She pointed out as she moved her fingers down towards his, lacing them gently. She expected him to pull away, only to be surprised as he held onto her tighter.

“Easy, quick sex,” he confirmed with a nod of his head, “Nothing fun.” He crinkled his nose up, taking her by surprise. She didn’t hear many guys say that.

Their eyes locked so intensely that she wondered if he knew what she was thinking, or at least could read it by her expression. Her heart was beating roughly, shaking against her organs and bones. She wondered if he looked close enough that he could see the outline. She felt exposed, but noted that part of him was also laid open for her to discuss.

“You’re really beautiful, Kimberly Mayfield.” His tone was soft, barely louder than a whisper as his eyes drifted across her features. His expression was dreamy, eyes filled with a tender look as his free hand moved to her cheek again.

“Rose.” She whispered back, slightly stunned by the amorous gaze that remained in his brown eyes. He looked far more fond than she was prepared for.

“What?” He asked as a little chuckle left his lips, his head moving back and forth in confusion. She grinned as she moved her hand to his hip. She could feel the electricity brewing underneath her fingertips, driving her wild.

“My full name is Kimberly Rose Mayfield.” She corrected as she tilted her head up towards him, lightly bumping her tiny nose against his strong one. She lingered there for a moment, breathing it all in.

“Oh, my bad,” he apologized with a laugh, holding his hand over his chest, “Then you’re very beautiful, Kimberly Rose Mayfield.” He stated correctly this time, something sentimental hiding underneath his expression.

“Thank you,” she laughed hysterically for a moment, her lungs burning and insides twisting, “I appreciate it.” She told him softly as she sat up closer, her lips parting as his eyes fell to her mouth again.

He leaned forward slowly, his eyes hazy and slightly squinted as his sweet breath fanned over her face. She felt her heart stalling in her chest, unmoving as his mouth fell against hers. She felt her eyes fluttering shut, a warmth spreading from where their mouths met.

He kissed her softly, gently, like he was somehow nervous. Which didn’t make sense, because how could he be timid around someone like her? His large hand fell against her jawline, his thumb pressing against her cheek as he dragged his lips slowly across hers.

It took another second for her mind and her body to connect, to really feel the rush of his skin against her own as she moved closer. She kissed him just as hesitantly, something new and exciting. It was sensual, more subtle than what she was used to.

She sat up on her elbows as her body flushed as he slid between her legs, his body soft and lanky as she dragged her lips harder against his. He fell against her, his body flush against hers as she laced her fingers through his hair. Soft groans filled the air, sparking excitement through her body as she felt herself growing wet against her panties. Hot. She was suddenly too hot.

Steve’s nose brushed against hers as he pulled away slowly, exhaling roughly as he fought to catch his breath. But she was already too far gone, desperate for the feeling of him on her once again. She was greedy, she wanted more. One taste wasn’t enough for her.

Her lips fell against the corner of his mouth, kissing softly as little pants fell from his swollen lips. She flicked her tongue out as she licked away the leftover saliva, unsure if it was hers or his. It didn’t really matter. He tasted sweet, like grapes and a hint of chocolate from the candy bar he had shared with her.

She was on top of him this time, straddling his lap as her hands fell to his jaw. She ran her palms across his smooth skin as she continued to drag her tongue across the curve of his mouth. She licked away his moans, spurred by the feeling of her clit throbbing against her panties.

He breathed in deeply, exhaling just as roughly as he placed his palm against hers. She stared for a moment, tilting her head as she compared the way his fingers were far longer than hers. There was something sensual in the way he held onto her, how he looked at her. She craved more of it.

“Did you try them on?” He asked suddenly, licking his bottom lip as he squeezed their fingers together softly. She moved forward, fighting every urge in her to keep from grinding her hips down against him.

“What?” She questioned after she thought about it for a minute, trying to decide what he was talking about. He laughed softly, looking like he was still out of breath.

“The earrings.” He clarified as he continued to look at her lips, like he was resisting the urge to kiss her again. She wondered if she had pushed him too far based on how he had changed the topic.

“Oh,” she paused as she brought her eyes back towards his, her chest rising and falling roughly, “No, not yet. Do you want me to?” She asked, more than willing to do whatever he wanted.

“You don’t have to.” He shook his head softly, but she was already standing. His fingers fell from her hands, slowly tracing the curve of her long legs instead.

“Hold on,” she told him softly, giggling as she pulled her box free. She looked around the room before she decided otherwise, “I’ll be right back.” She told him as she held one finger up, racing out of the room before he could say otherwise.

She searched for a moment before she found the bathroom; setting up the area for herself. She pushed her hair out of her face, confirming that her makeup looked alright before she slid her earrings in. Then she went to work.

It took a whole thirty seconds for her to convince herself that stripping down was worth the risk of Steve shooing her out of his room. He seemed interested in her thus far, she was sure that he would like this. At least she hoped that he would.

“Close your eyes,” she spoke up quickly as she stood outside the door, thinking about how mortified she’d be if his parents caught her, “Are they closed?” She asked, listening to the little hum in confirmation.

She slowly moved into the room, then shut the door behind her as she examined the way he was sitting on the edge of his bed. His large palms were over his shut eyes, his light smile exposed as she moved in front of him.

She decided that settling on her knees was best, but truly had no idea if that looked sexy or not. She just went with it, hoping for the best as she moved her hands onto her palms. She breathed in deeply, knowing she needed to speak before she made herself too nervous.

“You can open your eyes.” She told him gently, her nerves hidden away from the weed in her system as he removed his hands quickly. He still had a giddy expression on his features until he took her in, all of that sliding away as he inspected her.

His pink lips spread as an awestruck expression filled his face, his eyes falling towards her perky tits, and staying there for some time. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to fuss with her hair as his eyes continued to linger over her body.

“What are you doing?” His voice came out like a squeak, higher pitched and whiny as she moved her fingers to loosen his belt. His eyes darkened, filling with lust as he continued to stare after her movements.

“I want to make you feel good,” she hummed softly, “Is that alright with you?” She tilted her head as she watched him, confirming the way he nodded his head slowly before she began to tug on his jeans. She needed them off. Now.

“Okay,” he breathed out, cheeks burning pink as he shifted his hips up so she could pull his pants down easily. She moved her fingers across his large bulge, excitement pooling in her stomach as she greedily eyed him, “You really don’t have to-,”

His words cut off as she stuck her tongue out, dragging the flat part across his concealed hard on. He yelped at the sensation, his head dropping back as she continued to trace her tongue across his briefs.

She moaned as she looped her fingers around the band of his briefs and tugged them down his hairy thighs to expose his hardened cock. She stared, jaw dropping as his dick sprang free. He was long, much bigger than what she was used to. He wasn’t quite as thick, but she wasn’t worried about that. Her fingers fit around his girth perfectly.

It was odd to think that a dick was pretty, but his really was. He was slightly paler, his tip a soft pink and leaking against his skin. His balls were round, heavy and resting against a thick tuft of dark hair. She followed the thick base of his cock, observing as it slowly evened out, his dick curving towards the right.

“S’pretty,” she mumbled out, biting down on her bottom lip as she pressed her fingers slowly around his girth. He whimpered at the feeling, his hips thrusting forward as a gleeful sound left her lips, “Stevie, you have a really nice cock.”

“Thanks,” he squeaked out, staring at her as she gave his cock a little stroke. She chewed on her inner cheek as she looked at the way his precum collected at his tip, leaking over onto her fingers, “S’nice.”

She stuck her tongue out against his pink tip, licking away his slick and savoring it in her mouth. She moaned at the taste, so bitter and musky. So him. She felt a little feral, needy as she slid her lips over his leaking tip. Lust boiled inside of her as she sucked softly, flicking her tongue out against his warm skin gently.

“Oh,” he groaned as he dropped his head once again, his fingers gripping his blankets tightly as her lips stretched along his smooth skin. She kept her eyes focused on the way his shut, how he knitted his eyebrows together in bliss, “That’s-, that’s really nice.” He moaned, lips parting in bliss.

It took everything in her to keep from closing her eyes and savoring the taste of his cock in her mouth. She was sure that she could sit there for hours, her mouth stuffed full as she drooled around him. It was heavenly.

And his eyes remained closed. She couldn’t have that. She needed him to look at her, to appreciate her. She pulled away.

“Eyes on me,” she giggled softly as she squeezed his chin, forcing his eyes down towards her. He looked at her surprised, cheeks slightly flushed as he nodded his head, “And take your shirt off.” She demanded, surprised at her own bossy tone. Not quite commanding, but she did sound bratty.

He nodded his head as he watched her, his movements quick as he struggled to get the sweater off of his head. She grinned as she watched, enjoying the way his soft muscles moved. He was more lanky, softer and covered in dark hair. But she liked it all the same.

The hair from his chest reached clear down to his dick, a nice trail that she let her fingertips follow. She watched as goosebumps formed on his mole covered skin, many places for her to explore later.

She kissed up his abdomen, leaving a trail of saliva behind as she reached his belly button. She moaned, unable to help herself as she kissed along the cute little area. A smile leaving her lips before she stuck her tongue out against the soft hole, taking a soft lick of him. A little gasp left his lips as he moved his hips upward, his spit soaked dick brushing against her chin. She giggled at the sensation.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” She questioned him as she laced her fingers across his girth again, giving him a little squeeze. He groaned at the sensation, hips jerking at the way her free hand gripped his balls.

“You have a dirty mouth,” he said as his chest rose and fell harshly, his cheeks pink from how out of breath he was, “Really dirty.” His lips looked swollen, like he had been biting on them too much.

“Do you mean slutty?” She giggled as she traced her nails through the hair near his balls, “You can call me a slut. Or a whore. I don’t mind.” She told him honestly, wiggling a little closer to him. She liked being called all of those things.

“I-,” he paused as he stared at her, his eyes wide as he continued to stare at her in admiration, “You’re something else.” He spoke in disbelief, fascination swirling underneath his dark eyes as she gave his long cock another slow stroke.

She felt confident at the sounds that left his lips, how breathless and whiny he became as she pressed her lips up against his tip again. She gave him a little kiss, trying to fight the urge to smile before she slid his dick inside of her mouth.

His eyes became hooded as he stared at her, his pretty lips parting as she began to slowly bob her mouth up and down the curve of his cock. She pressed her tongue out slowly, following the strong vein as she moved her hands down to his balls. She squeezed them softly, earning a louder groan from him.

The sounds of pleasure that rolled off of his tongue were whiny, higher pitched and breathless as she rolled her tongue around his cock. She felt greedy as she slipped more and more of him into her mouth, craving the validation that he gave her as his eyes locked onto hers tenderly.

“S’beautiful,” he groaned as he pushed her hair out of her face, gasping at the way she continued to lock eyes with him. She furrowed her eyebrows together as his cock hit the back of her throat, far quicker than what she was used to, “God. You feel so good.”

She continued to squeeze at his balls, massaging them softly as she worked on taking his cock deeper in her mouth. She let some saliva fall from her lips, coating the part that she couldn’t stuff into her mouth quite yet. But she was determined.

She gagged as she pushed more of his curved cock into her mouth, her lips stretching around his girth as drool slid over his heavy balls. He whined as he thrust his hips forward, whimpering as his eyes began to flutter shut. Bliss spread over his features as his moans became deeper, louder.

She drooled around him, saliva falling from the corners of her lips as she buried more of his cock inside of her mouth. She could feel his tip dragging against the back of her throat, making her gag repeatedly as she continued to bob her head up and down the curve of his cock.

The sound of her lips around his cock was messy, filthy as drool continued to fall from her mouth. She could feel it on her boobs, on her knees as it continued to coat his balls. Her eyes watered as she successfully pressed his cock all the way into her mouth, her lungs burning and lips aching at the stretch of it all. She had never had something so deep inside of her throat, making it contract and throb at the same time.

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted as he tangled his fingers through her hair, his hips moving furiously to the motions of her mouth, “Sorry, m’sorry. Feels so good. Fuck, sorry. Can’t help it.” He spit out roughly, his tone whiny and desperate as he continued to fuck into her mouth.

She continued to gag around him, forcing her eyes to stay open as she watched the desperation that filled out on his features. His eyes were filled with lust, with awe and amazement as he roughly began to press his hips up against her motions.

“Fuck!” he snapped his hips forward harshly, his fingers gripping her hair tightly as he buried his dick in her throat. She moaned at the look on his features, at the way his thighs shook as his cock twitched inside of her mouth, “Oh fuck, sorry. M’sorry, so sorry.” He apologized, his hot cum filled her mouth, making her eyes burn from how intense it was.

She moaned as she pulled away, a mess of spit and cum leaking from her mouth and his cock as she breathed in fresh air. Her lungs screamed at the feeling, desperate for more as her chest rose and fell heavily.

He stared at her in awe, his lips spread widely as he pressed his hands roughly through his hair. Little whimpers continued to leave his mouth as his cock fell against his skin, still coated in her spit.

She pulled herself up slowly, her legs shaking as she straddled his lap. It took only a little push to knock him onto his back, to earn another groan from him as his dick slid between his abdomen and her thigh.

His lips were puffy and pink, pretty. She dragged her fingertips across them slowly, spreading them just enough to peek at his teeth. They were shiny and bright, nice. She didn’t think as she pressed her lips together, slowly spitting the mixture of cum and saliva into his mouth.

He stared at her wide-eyed, a similar look on his features as a loud moan left his lips. He swallowed it harshly, his hands falling to her hips as he began to rock up against her. He hissed at the sensation, desperation laced on his features.

“I need you so badly.” He whined as he rutted up against her pathetically, his features knitted in pleasure. She giggled at the way pleasure spread through her body again. Her cunt was soaked, aching and desperate to feel him too. But she waited. She liked being in control for once.

“What do you need?” she teased as she pressed her fingers against his chin, “Use your words.” She whispered softly, enjoying the way he melted in her hands. He rutted his cock up against her again, whimpering.

“Wanna taste your pussy,” he exhaled harshly, “Please. Let me taste you. I’ll make you feel good.” He promised as he dug his fingers into her fleshy hips. He nodded his head, trying to encourage her. She really wished she was strong enough to tease him a little longer, but she wanted him just as desperately.

A giggle fell from her lips as he rolled her over, her back resting comfortably against his soft sheets. She grinned as she sat up on her elbows, enjoying the greedy way his eyes drank in the image of her. She stuck her foot out playfully, poking his side gently with the tips of her toes.

Steve slid right in between her legs, nestling comfortably against her thighs as he dipped his face down towards hers again. A soft smile formed on his lips before he pecked her mouth; once and then twice. It made her pulse soar, butterflies rising in her tummy even though it was just a simple touch. He had such a way of making her heart throb.

Her eyes felt even heavier as she watched his lips slowly trail down the length of her body, his lips soft and smooth as he ran his large hands across her sides. She breathed in deeply as goosebumps formed underneath his touch, her nipples hardening as he flicked his tongue out across the curve of her boobs.

She moaned at the feeling of his lips around her nipple, kissing and sucking softly before he switched to the next one. His groans vibrated across her skin, his breath hot against her skin before he pulled away again.

She felt like she was on fire as he spread her legs further apart, squeezing his shoulders between her thighs before he gripped her hips gently. He had a cocky look in his eyes, his expression full of want as he exhaled warmly across her slick cunt.

She moaned as she felt a heavy sensation settling over her, her mind feeling fuzzy as his lips fell right above her pussy. She inhaled sharply, lungs burning as her clit throbbed in anticipation.

“She’s so wet for me,” he groaned softly as he drifted his fingers lightly through her folds. She lurched forward, desperate to be touched, “Can I taste you?” He questioned as his eyes met hers, her pulse racing harshly against the crook of her neck.

“Yes,” she finally managed to breath out, her eyes locked on the way he rolled his tongue out against his bottom lip; “Please.” She added softer, unsure if she could relay just how needy she really was.

His dark eyes drifted away from hers, his eyelids hiding his lust as he took a deep inhale of her scent. She blushed then, stomach twisting at the groan that fell from his lips. It was deep and carnal, like he’d been waiting for this moment.

She jolted at the feeling of his broad tongue across her cunt, slow and timid like he was savoring the taste of her. Everything inside of her burned, her thighs twitching at the sensation.

“Steve,” slipped from her lips easily, her mind growing foggy at the way he continued to slide his tongue through her folds, “Oh fuck.” She sighed in relief, body trembling underneath his greedy grip.

His fingertips dug into her fleshy thighs, gripping her tighter as he buried his head closer to her as he pressed his tongue rougher against her clit. He was delicate, yet intense at the same time as he memorized the way her sensitive bud was shaped.

Deep moans left her lips as he slowly wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking roughly before he flickered his tongue out. She crooned as her fingers fell to his thick hair, tugging on his strands of hair as her hips left the mattress. He groaned from between her legs, his movements sloppy yet calculated.

“Oh my God,” she whined deeply, her lungs tightening in pleasure while he pressed the tip of his tongue across her wet hole. Her walls trembled as he took broad licks of her cunt, grunting as his fingertips dug deeper into her hips, “Right there. Oh God.” She chanted, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he greedily lapped at her cunt.

Her feet dragged against the mattress as the pleasure burned deep inside of her veins, electricity brewing inside of her stomach as his sounds of pleasure vibrated through her body. She gaped as she gripped his hair tighter, rocking her body up against his mouth.

Her toes curled in bliss as he curled his tongue deeper inside of her pussy, licking and prodding in rhythm to the way she was rocking her hips across his mouth. She gripped his hair harder, twisting the locks between her fingers as loud whines fell from his lips.

His nose dug against her clit as he curled his tongue deeper inside of her cunt; licking at her sloppy walls. She was leaking around his tongue, against his lips as the muscles inside of her stomach tightened and shook. She whined loudly, her moans bouncing off of the walls as her orgasm suddenly crashed over her.

“Steve, Steve!” Whimpers rolled off of her tongue, her chest rising and falling harshly as her cunt clamped down around his tongue. Her clit ached as he dug his face in deeper, his nose pressing roughly against her sensitive bud as her body vibrated from her orgasm, “Oh fuck.” She crooned, hips rolling off of the bed and against his greedy mouth.

He continued to lap at her, moaning as he licked away her cum. His eyes were heavy and dark as he looked back up at her, a look of desperation on his features as remnants of her cum stained his face. It was filthy, but she liked it. A lot.

“So beautiful,” He groaned as he pressed a fingertip against her slick hole, lips parting at the same time a gasp left her tongue, “She’s so needy for me. Taking me so well.” He rambled as he slid his finger inside of her slowly, making her gape at the sensation.

His digits were long and slender, instantly pressing up against her bundle of nerves with one slight curl. Whimpers fell easily from her lips as he pumped his finger in and out of her sloppy hole,

She tugged him forward by his hair, earning a loud groan from him before she flicked her tongue out against his swollen lips. She messily lapped at his lips, devouring the taste of herself. His breath was hot against her face as he pulled away, brown eyes wide with lust.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she kept their eyes linked, rolling her hips forward slowly as soft whines fell from her lips. His finger felt glorious inside of her, but she enjoyed the reaction she was gaining from him too much to focus on her own pleasure.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist lazily, giving his hand a little squeeze before she slowly pulled him away from her. He watched with heavy eyes as she placed his finger in her mouth, moaning as she wrapped her lips around his long digit. She couldn’t help the way she moaned and drooled around him, the fire inside of her was burning too harshly.

“Jesus Christ,” he moaned as she continued to swirl her tongue between his fingers, greedily licking away the taste of her on his flesh, “what are you doing to me?” He shook his head as he looked at her in disbelief, parting her lips just enough that he could get a good look at her teeth and gums. Then at her tongue.

“I want you,” she whispered underneath her breath, her chest rising and falling harshly, “Please. I want to feel your cock inside of me.” She mumbled as he pulled his hand away, drool sliding onto her chin and neck.

“Jesus.” He spit out harshly, shaking his head as lust took over his features again. He looked just as depraved as she felt, like he would bite her if she asked. She wanted that. She wanted everything that he had to offer.

“I’ll be good,” she continued on, purring as she ran her nails through his chest hair, “Real good. I promise. Let me make you feel good again.” She pleaded with him, picturing him spread out underneath her as she bounced on his cock. She thought he’d like that a lot.

“I want to make you feel good,” he offered up inside, pressing his large hands against her shoulders as he shoved her back. She pouted as her head hit the pillows, but didn’t whine for too long as he spread her legs, “God, you’re so beautiful.” He praised loud enough for her to hear, his words sincere as he wrapped his fingers around his cock. He moved away for a second, heading towards his bedside table.

“I’m on the pill,” she spoke up quickly, determined to feel all of him, “It’s okay. I promise.” She nodded her head as she pressed her hands flat against his chest, grinning as she felt his heart beating underneath her touch.

“You-,” he repeated the word slowly, a thoughtful look behind his eyes as a flush settled on his cheeks, “You don’t want me to wear a condom?” He asked her slowly, as lust and shock mixed on his pretty features. She giggled as she leaned forward, dragging her tongue across the curve of his ear.

“I wanna feel your cock inside of me,” she moaned softly as her hands fell to his back, her nails digging into his skin, “I want you to cum inside of me. Please.” She whimpered as she spoke, her teeth grazing against his earlobe before she bit down.

He groaned, body pulsing against hers as he slowly moved away once again. She was unable to fully read the lust in his eyes as he positioned himself between her legs once again, his hairy thighs pressing against the back of hers as he aligned his cock with her pink cunt.

She pressed her knees up to her chest as he slowly slid his tip inside of her puffy walls, making her head spin in pleasure as she stretched along his long cock. She sighed at the way his dick curved inside of her, pressing into her easily.

She flickered her eyelashes as she looked upon him, breathing in the look of pleasure on his expression as he continued to slowly press his hips into her tight pussy. His eyebrows furrowed, lips parting as pitiful moans rolled off of his tongue. He was loud and whiny, different from what she was used to. But she liked it all the same, his sounds of bliss made her stomach coil and twist in awe.

“Fuck,” he whimpered underneath his breath, making her squeal at the way he bottomed out and then quickly snapped his hips forward once again. It slightly hurt, just a bit, but not enough where it wasn’t pleasurable. She had just never been filled this deeply before, so intensely, “You feel so good, baby. So fuckin’ good.” He praised wantonly, sounding more desperate than what she was used to.

Her knees were beginning to ache as he placed his weight on top of her, his hips snapping into her rougher as the curve of his cock pressed deep inside of her. She sighed as each inch slid into her, filling her so deeply that her lungs stretched and ached. Her clit throbbed as he came to a halt, whining as he bottomed out inside of her.

“Stevie,” she whined as she drifted her hands down his spine, fingertips brushing against the constellations on his skin, “So big. Feels nice.” She told him between gasps, a crooked smile forming on her lips as he continually pressed against her bundle of nerves. She wasn’t even sure if he was meaning to do so, but it left her clit aching and cunt twitching around him.

Her nails dug into his skin as he began to rock his cock in and out of her sloppy walls, the sounds of their bodies meeting instantly filling the room. It was loud and filthy, dirty. But it blended nicely with their sounds of pleasure, which were whiny and ravenous.

“Your pussy feels so good,” he praised as he knit his eyebrows harder together, his hips continually snapping against hers as he buried his cock as far as he could reach. Her eyes kept rolling into the back of her head, the electrifying pleasure of his cock strumming against her g-spot left her limp, “Taking my cock so well. Fuck, fuck. You look so beautiful, Kim. So fucking pretty.” He spit out between whines, complimenting her as his lips fell against her cheek.

She rolled her hips up to meet his motions, whining at the way the tip of his cock continually pressed against her deepest crevices. She was crying out this time, her nails scratching at his skin as she tilted her head in his direction. She met his lips sloppily, swapping spit and sounds of bliss as her cunt hugged his cock snugly.

She could feel his balls pressing against her skin, soaked with her slick as he roughly pressed himself into her each time. His thrusts were labored and intense, short and rough before he was burying himself inside of her again. Her lips were dragging against his, not fully kissing him as the pleasure took hold of her. Everything on her was burning, fiery and rough as she clawed at him desperately.

“Steve,” she pleaded from the corner of his mouth, whining as she dug her nails into him harder. She was sure she was cutting skin this time, scratching at him for more than just his skin, “Wanna feel you cum inside of me. Please, please. Fill me up, baby.” She crooned as she cupped his face, watching the way his expression broke.

Something carnal seemed to snap inside of him as his movements became rougher, deeper in some mystical way. Her moans became pleas, loud cries as he dragged her along the curve of his cock. He was desperate, small rambles leaving swollen lips as he crooned loudly. Whining just as loud as she rolled her hips up against his movements.

His head fell to the crook of her shoulder, sweaty and hot as a lewd sound left his lips. Deep and distressed as he buried himself deep inside of her, his balls snug against her skin as his cock trembled against her wet walls.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he drew out his words, spit falling from his lips and onto her skin as he dug his nails into her flesh. His cock throbbed inside of her as thick ropes of cum painted her walls, filling her deeply and leaking out of her slick hole, “Oh Jesus, Kim.” He whined as he reached down, rubbing at her clit as he continued to softly thrust his hips forward.

He was still whining as she roughly began to grind her hips up against him, desperately clinging to him as her muscles tightened inside of her stomach again. She held onto him tightly, crying out as the pleasure pulsed inside of her. She cried out, toes curling as it all crashed over her.

Her cunt squeezed around his girth as she came to a halt, hips pressed up against his wildly as she leaked around the curve of his cock. She came so harshly her eyes rolled into the back of her head once again, curses flying off of her tongue as she melted deeper into the mattress.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of him as her grip on him slowly released. He was still moaning as he held onto him, fucking his hips into her like he was trying to get all of his pleasure released. It made her giggle, made her felt special.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked suddenly, still out of breath as he turned his gaze up towards her. She breathed in the image of his blissed expression, his eyes filled with awe.

“Sure.” She told him softly, taking in a deep breath as her chest pressed up against his. His lips curled into a little smile, his eyes still squinty as he brushed his fingers through her hair.

“I’ve never read Lord of the Rings.” He admitted, like it was some big secret. It set her off suddenly, making her laugh as she thought about it. It was funny. This was funny, but it was nice. She wanted more of it.

“I know,” she said with a little giggle, “It doesn’t look like it’s ever been open.” She admitted as she ran her fingers across his skin, smiling as she brushed their noses together. His was strong and long, different than hers.

“I hate reading.” He groaned softly as he shook his head, his hair falling onto her forehead. She hummed as she registered his words, sure that she could change his mind. With time.

“We could read it together,” she suggested, watching the way his eyes twinkled, “If you want to.” She offered, suddenly feeling a little shy. She didn’t want him to think that she was lame or anything. She wanted him to be interested in her.

“I’d love that.” He told her gently, fingertips soft against her skin as he leaned back to admire her. She took it as a promise, hoping that he meant it in that way.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x oc #Steve Harrington x original character #Steve Harrington x fem!oc #Steve Harrington x female!original character #Steve Harrington x female original character #Steve Harrington x Kim Mayfield #Steve x Kim #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington is a good boyfriend #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington fic

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vimse · 2 months ago

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Ah wow it’s almost 2025, which means it’s time for the yearly art recap. Time flies when you’re struggling through your thesis, but I’m very pleased to scrounge up at least one Tech drawing per month. I’ll do a (not so) short reflection about my 2024 art under the cut if you’re interested, but for now, I’d like to express my greatest gratitude for everybody who has stuck around and shared my art. Hoping that 2025 will be a more productive art year. Byeee 🧡

Tl;dr under the cut: ramblings about my struggle in school, 2024 highlights, hopes and dreams next year

—

Let’s look back at last year’s summary:

What's next in 2024?

More Tech. Some things I'd like to explore in 2024 is character drawings beyond portraits, anatomy, simple backgrounds, OCs, storytelling through short comics, TBB band au, and maybe some commission work

Well, safe to say I didn’t get too much of that done haha. The reason for that is I’ve been really struggling with my undergraduate thesis work in chemistry. I don’t really know the root cause of it, but I just can’t bring myself to finish it and I’ve been procrastinating badly, so much that I’ve missed two presentation opportunities. The third opportunity is within 2 weeks and I’m nowhere finished or ready. It has been a constant source of stress and anxiety throughout 2024. I got burned out by the end of May and went to the school counsel to hand in my resignation notice, but got convinced to stick around but to finish it at a later date, because this is literally the last thing to do before I get my degree. Then afterwards I decided to go back to my old job full time, which has been very tiring and took a long time to adjust to. This is very obviously reflected in the amount of full illustration produced during July to October, especially September when I couldn’t bring myself to draw anything beyond Tech’s hand lol.

If I don’t finish my thesis in time for this round, I think I’ll finally throw in the towel for real. Maybe I’ve doomed my future or something but…this experience has made me feel incredibly (and constantly) bad for a whole year, and it has affected every aspect of my life. I’m very tired of it. And although my current job is very tiresome and probably detrimental to my health, it pays well and the colleagues are wonderful. Additionally, it is a niche job that I have years of experience in, with good connections, so I’m not currently worrying about my future job at all. And it’s still within the chemistry industry, so all the time I spent in school isn’t going to waste. In regard to my future, I’m more worried about wasting all of it on a conventional 7-16 job, of which I don’t think a degree in analytical chemistry would help me avoid anyways.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough. If you’re still here, thank you. Now, let’s look back to some positive highlights in my art year of 2024:

I think I’ve finally reached the point where I’m content with how I draw Tech. As evident by the picture above, it’s sort of consistent too, which is a bonus.

I joined my first zine!! It’s the Pabu Days zine and I can’t wait for everyone to get their copy of it. Everybody’s pieces are amazing. I wish I did better/more, but the creation period was during the worst time of my year, mental health-wise, and I have to accept that it was the best I could do at the time.

As for the “masterpiece” of 2024, my most proudest work is the CX-Tech piece I did during the height of TBB season 3. I’m incredibly happy with how the rim lights turned out and the overall mood of it. Also the texture on the armour turned out sooo good, I can’t believe I was the one who painted it lol. I wish I could personally show the picture from my monitor, because all the details seem to disappear when viewed on tumblr. Below is the illustration I’m talking about, along with a side by side comparison to the picture I referenced the lighting from + some closeups. Looking back at it now, I wish I added a stronger frontal light source, so that the picture isn’t so dark.

Also, extra shout out to the back study series. I am traditionally not a painter (just grew up as an anime weeb) so making these this was an incredible accomplishment.

With that, I’m wrapping this very long post (sorry) with some 2025 hopes and dreams. Basically it’s the same things I wanted to do in 2024: improve anatomy, more background, work on OC, work on AUs. I want to try very hard to make commissions happen next year, if people are still interested. Something else I want to do that isn’t strictly art related is to connect more with people, especially with those who are still hyperfixated on TBB as I am. I find it hard to socialise on tumblr, but I try to be more social on bluesky. Idk, I think it would be fun to find a small active community that is maybe more focused on clones and oc stuff.

Okay, that’s all! If you’ve made it this far, thank you thank you thank you. Have a happy holiday and may your 2025 be a wonderful, wonderful year.

🧡 vimse

#tbb tech #the bad batch #vimse art #art summary

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rustbeltjessie · 2 months ago

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I haven’t made a pinned post in a while, but since it’s my birthday month and I’m struggling right now, I figured it’s a good time to make one.

First, let me introduce myself. I’m Jessie Lynn McMains, aka Rust Belt Jessie. I’m a writer (poetry and prose), artist, zine-maker, spoken word performer, occasional musician, small press publisher, and general jack of several creative trades. I’m queer—bi/mspec and nonbinary (I use they/them, she/her, and he/him pronouns). I’m disabled and neurodivergent, and the parent of two kiddos. Politically? Well, I consider myself an anarchist at heart, but I still vote in every election. I think everyone should be able to have enough food, and a safe place to live, and yeah, even a few ‘unnecessary,’ fun things, just by virtue of being alive. As for the rest of my beliefs, you can probably garner a general idea if you peruse my blog even a little.

Now, onto the nitty-gritty. We had about ten days between when our last month’s food money ran out and when this month’s came in. It has been refilled as of today, so I don’t have to worry about that for the moment, but because of that gap, I had to spend money I’d set aside for other stuff on food. I paid our rent and energy bill for the month, but I’m a couple months overdue on our Internet bill, and I don’t want to risk that getting shut off. And then, well, it’s December. I’m trying to buy my kids some Christmas presents, and it’s not just my birthday month—my youngest kiddo’s birthday is four days before Christmas. Because of all this, I’m also way behind on writing stuff. I owe my zine subscribers a new issue (I didn’t send anything at all in November), and I’m trying to finish up some pieces to record for my new spoken word EP, but I’ve had to focus on day job and side-hustle stuff that’s more immediately lucrative, so I haven’t been able to dedicate much time to finishing these projects.

If you’d like to throw some $$ my way so I can get some gifts for my kiddos, keep my Internet on, get back to my writing, and maybe have a less-stressful birthday month than I did last year, I have V*nmo (JessieLynnMcMains) and P*yp*l (coeur.de.fantome [at] gmail[dot]com).

But hey, hey, I’m not just asking for something for nothing! I have a lot of stuff available on Ko-fi (rustbeltjessie), including print books and zines, ebooks and zines, and pins, and you can also hire me as an editor or commission a custom mini-collage. And almost everything is sliding scale/pay-what-you-can, some with a minimum price, others starting at $0.

And that zine subscription? It’s still not too late to get in on it, even though the year is almost over. If you sign up now, you’ll receive all previous issues, along with this month’s when it’s finished, and the final two will be mailed out in January.

Or perhaps you’d like to buy or commission something I don’t officially have for sale. Maybe you’d like to buy one of my existing pieces of art? Or commission a custom pin, designed by me, based on the band/film/fandom/whatever of your choice? Or commission a custom postcard poem/art piece, on the subject of your choice? Or have me write you a custom mini-zine, on the subject of your choice? I can do all those things! DM me, and we’ll work something out!

Oh, and I mentioned above that I was working on a new spoken word EP? Go check out my full-length spoken word album, Self-Portrait With Ghosts and Trains, which was released by Hello America Stereo Cassette in July 2021. You can find it at helloamerica.bandcamp.com. (I do get royalties from that release periodically, but it’s not as immediate as if you purchase something directly from me.)

All that said, I know times are tough for most people right now, so please don’t feel obligated to purchase anything or otherwise send money my way. And, as always, even just a few dollars helps, as does reblogging/boosting this post. 🖤

#rust belt jessie #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr #pinned post #please boost #i’ll reblog this later with direct links added #thanks in advance

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alphajocklover · 4 months ago

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I want to start by saying that I’m not speaking as my character right now, but as myself. For once I’m not going to be telling a story as a fictional version of myself, or as some sort of omniscient being. I’m just going to tell this story as me. Because it’s not really a tf story, it’s just a story about me.

It was around eight months ago when I made my first post on this blog. I had been reading jock transformations and muscle growth stories for a long time — longer than I probably should have to be honest — and had been inspired to finally join the community as a creator after @newchangestf answered an ask for my main account @hornyjockalt . I had always loved writing, but had never really had the confidence to show any of my work outside of school, and erotic writing seemed like a good way to start coming out of my shell, explore my sexuality and express my creative side, all while staying (mostly) anonymous and protected form the anxiety that usually stopped me from sharing my ideas.

Over the last eight months I’ve found this to be an amazing community, full of kind and accepting people. I’ve made connections and even friends. Which is why I wanna give a special shout-out to some people.

@musclejedi-tameem is one of my biggest fans and I’m one of theirs. They’re a great friend and they’re absolutely awesome. They’ve helped me a lot and I can’t thank them enough.

@warping-realities is one of my biggest inspirations. I won’t claim to know them very well, or at all, but I love their work and from the little we’ve interacted they’re awesome

@sanzaibian is one of my earliest fans and one of the first people to tell me one of my stories really struck a cord with them. Also an amazing tf writer in their own right, I highly recommend their work.

And finally @romangolden68 is the first person I ever did a commission for, a great friend and an all around amazing person. They’ve always been super supportive and I’m super happy to have them in my corner.

To any of my friends I didn’t list, know it’s either because I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable being named or because there’s a lot of you and if I listed you all I’d break tumblr. You’re all the best and I’m so glad I get to be a part of this group. I hope I get to make another hundred stories, and a hundred after that.

Sorry this got kind of mushy. Thanks for reading

Sincerely, AlphaJockLover

#non story post #thank you all #100 stories celebration

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tf-lover · 1 year ago

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Commission - Undercover Truths

Interested in commissioning me? Check out this post for more information on rules and pricing.

Detective Patrick Walters had been in the game a long time. Having just hit 40, he was still in very good shape compared to a lot of guys his age. By this point he’d watched many formerly athletic colleagues in their youth grow lazy and spend more time behind a desk than in the gym, but not Patrick. He was still in the gym five days a week, working out to keep himself in top shape. He prided himself on it. Sure, most of the time you didn’t get dramatic chases like the movies showed, but there were occasions over the years where his athletic prowess had mattered. And besides, it wasn’t for the job. He stayed fit because he liked how it felt, even now into his 40’s he worked hard to keep his appearance as good as it could be for himself and the ladies he hooked up with.

As a seasoned detective who’d worked his way right up the chain from a new member of the force at 18, Partick knew what he was doing when it came to the job. Living in a big city there were always new cases being dropped on his desk. From murders to drug crime at the extreme end, there wasn’t much he didn’t know how to handle at this point in his life.

This new case though, this one had been tough. Gang activity, but none of his usual sources had been at all useful, and any evidence he’d gathered so far was circumstantial at best. He’d been on the case long enough to know some shady stuff was going on; everything from drugs to disappearances had crossed his desk; but there was never enough hard evidence to back up his instinct that all the cold cases over the last few months were connected. He knew they were though. He could feel it in his bones, as nonsense of a notion as that was.

So, as he saw it, Patrick only had one option left.

“Absolutely not.” The precinct’s chief, a man Patrick had been friends with a long time named Simon, said when he put forward his idea. “Out of the question Detective, I’m sorry. I can’t authorise an undercover mission to investigate a hunch, as much as I agree these cold cases are odd and need a solution, we’ve got no proof the downtown gangs are responsible. Sending you in without a strong reason or proof of their involvement just isn’t something I can authorise.” Simon had an apologetic look on his face as he sat back in his desk chair. “I’m sorry Patrick, really. I wish I could help, but I just can’t authorise an op like this and you know it. Maybe taking some time off would help clear your head of all this? You barely ever use your vacation time, that I could quite easily approve.”

A small smile spread over Patrick’s face. “You’re right Sir, maybe I should use up some of those vacation days.” He turned to leave the office, but paused when he got to the door and glanced back at the chief. “Thank you Simon, really.”

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for Pat, I’m just approving some vacation time is all.” Simon didn’t give any hint of anything showing through, but Patrick didn’t need him to. “Now get out of here, you’ve got some vacation time to enjoy.”

Patrick nodded and headed out of the office. He was lucky he’d known the chief as long as he had, he’d have missed the hint at an off books snoop around if not. Simon couldn’t approve a full on investigation, but if Patrick could come to him with enough evidence, officially or unofficially obtained, to link one of the downtown gangs then maybe he could launch something. He’d have to be careful though, since he knew there was no protection if he was caught; Simon would have to deny all knowledge and claim he went rogue.

All he had to do now was finish off some paperwork then he’d be ready to head off for his ‘vacation’. One that, little did he know, was going to be far more life changing than he was expecting…

~~~

It’d taken a couple of days and a lot of phone calls, but eventually Patrick had found an in. He’d hung around the right places and managed to run into a former member of the largest gang in the city, one who let just enough information slip when Patrick had pretended to be someone the guy knew from the gang years ago. Act in the right way and you could get people to think you knew them from a long time ago, a skill Patrick had become fairly good at over the years.

Armed with the knowledge he needed, Patrick made his way to the warehouse district of the city after that conversation. He’d long suspected there was gang activity around these parts, but had never had enough specifics. Now was different though, as now he knew the rough area to check. There were only a few unused warehouses in the southern part of the district below the river, so one of those had to be the one he was looking for.

The first one was a bust. Picked the lock and slipped inside, only to find stacks of rotting cardboard boxes, filled with products from a toy company he knew had gone out of business several years ago.

The second of the three ws now in use he’d discovered. When he’d walked up there were a few workers loading furniture into the back of a van, and a quick conversation after pretending to be lost had revealed this definitely wasn’t the place he was looking for.

All he had left was the third one he knew was abandoned.

When he got there he was glad to see no signs of life like the second one. No signs of anything when he walked in, not even boxes stacked up like the first. He still had a good look around though, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. And he was lucky he did, as in one of the back corners was a hatch that had to lead down to a basement. As he descended the ladder down he could see a soft glow of some type of light and the sound of a voice, which meant he had to be in the right place.

A few seconds later he stepped back onto solid ground to find himself in a short corridor with sets of doors along each side and one at the end. It was this end one that piqued his curiosity, as this one unlike the others was slightly ajar and was the source of the sound and pale glow.

Partick stepped closer quietly and carefully, not wanting to alert anyone that might be inside. The closer he got though, the more he realised it wasn’t a conversation he could hear and wasn’t a light on he could see. It was the same voice saying the same words on a loop of several minutes, which meant the light was probably a TV playing a video on a loop. Why there would be something like that down in the basement of an abandoned warehouse he had no idea, but it was definitely suspicious enough to lead him to believe he was in the right place.

Once he got to the door at the end of the corridor, Patrick hovered outside for a few moments to make sure he couldn’t hear anyone moving around. When he was sure he pushed his way into the room, gun held low and ready to fire if it came to it. As he suspected though, there wasn’t a soul in sight; only him, the TV as he’d guessed, and the rest of the small room. A table with clothes and a half used pack of cigarettes on, a shower in one corner, and the TV in the centre of the room with a chair in front. It was an odd set up to say the least, and not what Patrick had been hoping to find.

“This is… What even is all this for?” Patrick mumbled to himself as he walked around. The most confusing part of it all was the fine layer of dust on everything, a sign no one had been here or touched this stuff in some time. “No one’s been here, so why is the TV on? I can’t have been left on for the same amount of time as this other stuff hasn’t been touched.”

With nothing particularly interesting laying around the room, Patrick turned to the TV. He’d largely ignored it until now, but with no other signs of a clue it was the only thing left. It was clearly pretty old, not one of the more modern flat screens by any means. It wasn’t playing anything in particular though, all he could see was a blank white screen that occasionally flickered to black when whatever was playing looped to the beginning.

Welcome back home Lance, you’ve been gone a while.

The words the voice spoke struck some kind of chord within Patrick’s mind. He wasn’t this Lance guy, but somehow he knew instinctively he was the one being spoken to by the deep voice. A pause later as Patrick moved around to the front of the TV and the voice spoke again.

Not saying anything? Figures. At least take a seat why don’t you?

Patrick sat down in the ratty chair without thinking about it. Not until he’d got comfortable anyway did he realise he’d just listened to what the voice said. It was like it was talking to him, but that wasn’t possible. Was it?

“Who are you? What is this place?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him despite the logical part of his brain knowing he’d heard all this before in the background as he’d looked around the room. “Can you hear-”

We’re not having a conversation, I just know you well enough to know what you’re going to ask whilst you’re like this. I’m your everything Lance, I’ve missed you.

Missed him? How could this voice have missed him when he didn’t even know who it belonged to? Despite that, there was still a shiver of satisfaction as whoever this man was said that; Patrick was suddenly feeling like he had missed the man behind the voice too. It made no sense, but he couldn’t deny the feeling was there now out of nowhere.

It sent a jolt of panic running down his spine and Patrick fought the urge to stay sitting in the chair like he’d been told. He wanted to run, get out of here and all the strangeness of this small, dark room whilst he still could, but something deep in his core kept him locked in place.

You’re probably panicking right now. Have a cigarette Lance, that always helps you calm down.

Patrick’s eyes flicked over to the pack on the table. There was a lighter there too he realised, all ready for him to grab and light up. Patrick had never smoked in his life, not even a slight puff on one as a teenager. He hated the things, could never see how someone would want to destroy their body like that.

He was reaching over to swipe them up before he knew what he was doing. Slid one out of the pack, balanced it between his lips, then flicked the lighter with a practised ease and set the cigarette burning. Two fingers around the end by his lips to keep it steady, then one deep inhale later he felt that sweet, familiar rush of nicotine and a calm wash over him. Lance blew the smoke out slowly as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting out a content sigh as he did. He’d missed that feeling.

Patrick blinked down at the cigarette in his hand as he was about to raise it back to his lips. What had he just done? For a moment he’d lost himself completely. No coughing after what he knew was his first time smoking; the ease with which he pulled one out a lit up wasn’t one he possessed; he definitely wasn’t familiar with the calming high he got afterwards. It wasn’t possible for him to be missing a feeling he’d never felt before, and he absolutely did not know where the momentary comfort with being this ‘Lance’ dude had come from.

Again.

On reflex, Partick slotted the cigarette back between his lips and took another long, heavenly drag from it. Smoke filled him up, swirling around as he held it inside for a moment to enjoy the sensation before he let it back out in a lengthy blow.

Comfort. Home. Relaxed. All those feelings swirled around with the smoke as he took drag after drag from the cigarette between Lance’s lips.

Confusion. Panic. Fear. All those feelings left Patrick as he blew out the smoke each time.

There wasn’t anything to worry about here, the cigarette had reminded him. He belonged here, this wasn’t some break in, he was just coming home. Each inhale of smoke he calmed down as the previously unknown itch for nicotine was scratched, each exhale Patrick felt more comfortable and at ease letting this voice call him Lance. It felt right, more right than Patrick felt as his name in the current moment.

Once you’ve finished that off Lance you should get changed. Have a shower to wash off all that hair dye and makeup covering your tattoos, then your usual gym clothes are all there just as you left them.

Lance looked over at the shower in the corner of the room. He could do with a shower after the long day, even if he didn’t quite know what else the voice was talking about. He ran a hand through his grey hair as he stood up and kicked his shoes off. It’d been brown once upon a time, but he’d never cared enough to dye it as he grew older. He’d never liked the way tattoos looked either, so why the voice thought he’d need to wear makeup to cover something he didn’t have was beyond him.

Nevertheless, he still switched the shower on then stripped quickly and stepped under the warm spray. It felt almost as good as the cigarette had, so much so he unconsciously turned the heat up higher than he’d usually tolerate. There was something about the almost scalding hot water as it rolled down his neck from his head, over his shoulders and down his torso, something that just felt right. There was a cloth and bottle he could only assume was shower gel, so he squeezed a generous amount into his hands and started rubbing it into his skin. Under his arms, over his crotch and between his ass cheeks, then up and over his shoulders and back into his hair, barely an inch of him was spared.

Once he was properly soaped up, Lance turned a little to place himself back directly under the spray and went to work washing it all off again. He barely noticed the grey colour that came with the suds in his hair, or the pinkish tint that sloughed off as he rubbed at his skin. Dark lines appeared the more he rubbed and cleaned, revealing dark tattoos and tanned skin all over his body, just as the voice had claimed. As he washed his hair he watched as some of it fell out and washed away down the drain, leaving it now cropped perfectly short to his scalp.

“When did I…?” Lance hesitated for a second as he stared at his inked flesh when the last of the shower gel had washed off. He didn’t remember getting tattoos… or did he? “Huh, yeah. That’s… that’s my ink. Missed seeing that on this job, maybe I’ll get more to celebrate being finished at last.”

“You did a great job getting into the police so deep Lance, I’m proud of you. Undercover work isn’t easy, but you’re done now.”

Lance smiled to himself as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. It was all coming back to him now. He wasn’t a cop or a detective, he was only pretending to be for the gang to throw off some of the stuff they’d been doing. He wasn’t this perfect Patrick Walters guy, that was just an alias they’d created for him. The memories of that life, growing up into some old guy like that, none of it was real. It was a backstory they’d planned out together. Even now he barely noticed as the memories slipped away, just the important details Lance had to memorise for the job sticking around.

The location the voice was coming from had shifted too, but Lance was too preoccupied with drying himself off and grabbing his clothes to notice. It was clearer and closer to the door instead of sounding like it came from the TV in the centre of the room, not that it made a difference as Lance pulled on his favourite jockstrap and shorts. A tank top that showed off his muscles and tattoos followed, along with the necklace, backwards cap and earrings he always wore.

He felt comfortable again now he’d dropped out of the disguise and got back to himself. How the stupid pigs had ever believed some shitty hair dye and makeup he hadn’t a clue, it wasn’t exactly a believable disguise. That and somehow passing for a man who just turned 40 when Lance himself had turned 28 only a few months before the beginning of this undercover stuff; the cops were really all as stupid as he thought they were.

“How’re you feeling babe? Better to be back?”

The voice that was very clearly from inside the room startled Lance for a second before he looked up to see his boyfriend, who was also the leader of the gang he was part of, stood at the door. He had his arms folded over his chest and his signature smirk on his face, one that always got Lance’s cock throbbing.

“You know I am Raf. Been dying to be back in your arms for months.” Lance said as he strolled across the room. When he got close enough he untangled Raf’s crossed arms and pressed himself up against his lover, their muscled bodies snug together. “You got no idea how much I’ve missed you and myself, pulling off the straight older cop shtick was torture.”

Raf rubbed a hand over Lance’s shaved hair then let them slide down and settle around his waist. “I bet it was, but you’re back to normal now eh? Can get the hell outta here and get shit moving on the next phase. Now you’ve thrown them off us we can expand and take over the smaller gangs, become the big underground name around here. We’re gonna own this city thanks to you babe.”

Raf leaned in and kissed him then. Lance happily kissed back, letting his lover's beard scratch against his jaw as their lips slid together. It was more heavenly than the cigarette, which was something considering how much he smoked in one day. Not smoking or being with Raf had been the worst torture of his life, but it was all over now. He had his boyfriend back kissing him, his life back, everything.

A few moments later the kiss ended and Raf slid out of his arms. He still held Lance’s hand tight as he pulled him out of the small room and pushed him back towards the ladder upwards, then let go so his lover could move. “You go on up Lance. I’m just gonna clear this place out, then I’ll come meet you up there and we can leave yeah?”

Lance nodded and grabbed hold of the ladder. “Sure thing Raf, I’ll see your sexy ass in the car for some hot sex yeah?”

Raf nodded and smirked again. “You bet your ass I will. It’s been long enough, I’ve missed the way you suck dick.” He watched Lance blush as the other man climbed the ladder out of the small basement, leaving Raf alone down there. He switched the TV off, grabbed up the clothes his boyfriend had taken off to get in the shower earlier, then walked back to the door. “Well Patrick, that sure went off without a hitch, didn’t it?” He said to the empty room before he locked it and headed off to catch up with Lance.

Raf had a lot of fucking to do so he could make up for lost time, though whether that time was a few months or a lifetime was anyone’s guess…

#racial transformation #mental changes #male transformation #my writing #tf commissions #age regression

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sfehvn · 1 year ago

Note

hi hello! saw you had requests open and were looking for some prompts to work on?

i hope you dont mind me sending in one :0

possessive or jealous astarion x reader maybe?

reader is divorced, has been for a while, but their ex and them are still good friends. it was a mutual, respectful separation, because the two had different life plans after being together for some time. ex is a great person with a kind heart (and js brilliant artificer or inventor maybe?) and decided to visit reader some time after the game. nothing nefarious, just some nice catching up with one of their closest friends.

just want a lil astarion jealousy here. how reader reacts is up to you. itd be fun if they just roll their eyes but indulge his possessive behavior a tad.

no need to follow everything to a T of course.

other reasons the ex could be visiting (if theyre an artificer or inventor) is because reader commissioned them for a ring or jewelry or something that lets astarion walk under the sun. fun ideas there where astarion sees the ex hand reader a ring, is almost heartbroken, but it turns out reader got the ring for him was gonna propose or something (ring lets vampires walk under the sun). some angst there wahaha

im so sorry this is so long, i had multiple ideas i wanted to offer but didnt wanna flood you.

i understand if you dont wanna work on this (these?). its still just a joy to share these. thanks!

green eyed devil

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it! xx Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,290 Characters: Astarion x Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

In the months following the removal of your unwanted little brain passengers you and Astarion had been tirelessly in search of a cure for his vampiric condition. As much as you tried to discourage his masking, there were many mornings you woke to see your lover longingly staring at the covered windows surrounding your bed. Astarion would play it off cooly once the realization he’d been caught dawned on him, but he knew as well as you the agony that hid behind ruby-red eyes. The remorse ate him alive as the color in your own skin began to fade from your previously sunkissed appearance to reflect that of paleness. It stilled in comparison to his, but it was a constant reminder of the fact that, in his judgment, he’d doomed you to a life in the shadows.

You held him close to your chest and the sound of your beating heart against his ear prompted a moment of weakness. “I feel like I’m destroying you.” His words were a shutter as they left his mouth. You place a small hand on his cold cheek at the sudden confession, commending him to look up at you.

It was unspoken. You needed no words to tell you how sun-starved you had become and you vaguely recalled the last time you had gone out while it was still beaming. “Hey, I’m alright. We’re making decent progress and have more than a few promising leads. I’m not the slightest worried about it.” Even your reassuring smile and soothing words couldn’t placate the shame he felt.

“Would you go for a walk at least? You thrive in the sun and instead you’re cooped up in this little room with me until sundown, darling.” You let out a sigh of disapproval and before you can argue the suggestion, he continues. “Do it for me. I can’t bear seeing you like this.” Astarion knew without a shred of doubt that one day you’d grow tired of skulking in the dark with him, given a cure was never found. He’d do everything he could to make sure it never happened. If it did, though, Astarion believed he’d have no reason to continue his miserable existence.

After a few beats of silence, you finally nod. The look on his face was enough to tell you there was no use arguing the matter away. Evidently, this was important to him, so you sat and readied to do what he could not, what he wanted so desperately: to bathe in the rays of daylight.

You trudged about the city with no end in mind. Feeling the warmth of sunshine on your skin was a welcome change, and you soaked up the sensation eagerly. There was heavy remorse weighing in your chest at the thought of not being able to share this feeling with your lover all the while. You’re stopped in your tracks at the familiar face before you. “Tav! Well, you’re looking worse for wear.” The man teased. You grinned widely and wrapped your arms around him in a chaste embrace.

“I would say your words hurt, but it is a testament to your honesty, I suppose.” You quipped and stepped back to get a good look at him. It had been a lengthy amount of time since you had last seen him. You recall the last time you had been in each other’s company was when you had attended his wedding to his new wife, a lovely half-elf you had regularly messaged with. From said messages, you knew they had just welcomed a new addition to his family, and you felt great pride in the man he had become. While, yes, you had once shared a bed and a last name, it felt like a lifetime away.

“You look well, Conrad. It seems fatherhood suits you well.” He did indeed look great, not a day older than when you had last seen him despite the years passed. Black hair that somehow always looked tousled and neat at the same time, bright green eyes with no darkness marring under them, and he’d taken to toning his physique since you’d been with him, ostensibly.

You were both far too young when you had made the rash decision of running off and eloping together. Just as hastily as you two had agreed to spend the rest of your lives together, things had begun falling apart. Conrad wanted to settle and start creating a family as quickly as possible, while you were keen just the way you were. You were confident you never wanted children to begin with. Though your thoughts on the matter have recently changed, it is a testament that finding the right person has shown you things you weren’t even aware of about yourself before.

“Despite the lack of sleep, we can agree on that.” Conrad chortles gleefully, motioning you to follow him to a nearby bench. Once seated, he turns his body to face you. “You are a tough one to find, my friend. Amira told me you have been holed up in Elfsong for a while, and it was still much like digging through a needle in a haystack. The same old adventurer, hm?” He questions fondly, recalling your nature without abandon.

“You could say that.” You shrugged casually. Your head quirks as if a thought just popped into your mind. “Why are you back in Baldur’s Gate? You should be home tending to Amira.” You think back to her last letter, detailing the struggles she had been having caring for their new babe. Conrad was a journey away.

“I am here at her request.” He corrects with a wave of his hand. “It seems you and Astarion have troubled her heart with your story. She can’t stand the thought of two people so in love plagued by such great hardship. Ever the romantic she is.” You smile sadly as you remember your lover confined to the inn's room. He holds up a finger, beckoning your brow to crease as he dug into the pockets of his robe. A quiet ‘aha’ emerged as he seemingly located what he sought. He outstretched his hand to you, a simple silver-banded ring held between his fingertips. “It’s not the cure, of course. At the very least, your search won’t have to be restricted during daylight hours.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you bite back tears at the kind gesture. “Conrad, I can’t believe this.” You whisper as he drops the ring into your palm. The magic-infused band feels almost as if it hums against your hand.

“Ring of the sunwalker. I must say, it was one of the most challenging feats I’ve committed to.” Conrad muses, clearly proud of his work. You had been in search of one to gift to Astarion but they were impossible to stumble upon and even more impossible to find an artificer who was skilled enough to conjure one up. You clinch the ring in your fist and pull the man into a tight hug, painfully aware of the tears that assaulted his robe.

“Thank you, Conrad. I don’t know how to repay you or Amira for this kindness.” Your words were earnest, and you dab under your wet eyes.

“No repayment necessary, Tav. You’re family to us. It pains us to know you’re in such a tight predicament. However, a visit once you and your other half are ready would be welcomed. Got to lay the law out and let this vampire know who he’ll have on his tail if he ever hurts you.” His teasing cadence elicited a laugh from you, bumping his shoulder playfully with your own.

You two chat for a while longer before bidding goodbye to one another. “Just make sure that gets put to use, Tav. You look like you haven’t had a drop of sunlight in your life.” You reassure that you will with a broad smile.

The walk back to the inn is painstakingly long given how eager you were to present Astarion with his new ring. The image of your lover once again bathed in sunlight made your heart swoon. When opening the room’s door you can hardly contain the excited smile on your lips. Astarion was unmoving on the bed, trying to slip into a meditative state when you entered the room.

“The sun is still up, my darling—plenty of fun to be had out there.” There was feigned annoyance in his words but in reality, he was contented to have you back where he knew you were safe. There was something off, though. Astarion pushes himself onto his elbows and stares at you with narrowed eyes. The look made your breathing hitch, your smile faltering the slightest bit.

Within a second, he’s in front of you, faces a mere inch apart. “What’s wrong?” You asked carefully, hand instinctively reaching for the ring in your pocket. You twiddle your fingers around it but hesitate to pull it out.

“You reek.” He deadpans, inspecting your body as if searching for a physical sign you’d been laid up with another man.

“Well, that’s kind of rude.” You joked, but the silence that followed told you there was more to it than he’d let on.

“You reek of another, my dear.” His words dripped with condescension, and you let out a chuckle, ready to explain away his worries.

“Oh no, that’s just Conrad. He actually-” Before you could say anything more, you were pressed firmly between the solid oak door behind you and Astarion’s firm chest. He looks down on you, and you can’t discern if his red eyes radiate that of rage or lust. Perhaps both.

“Your ex-husband. I leave you alone for all but a few hours, and you find your way into another man’s arms?” Accusatory words were whispered into your ear, the sensation of his soft lips tickling the sensitive skin. His fingertips firmly planted into your hip as he led you to the bed, pressing you roughly to the soft comforter you two had spent so many days wrapped up in one another atop. His greedy hands expertly flip you over. Your ass stood in attention before him, and he worked the skirt of your dress up until it pooled around your chest.

Before you could comprehend his jealous fit, your underwear was ripped from your body, and his hard cock was buried deeply inside of you. You let out a moan at the sensation of him filling you. His hand slid up your back until it reached the back of your head, taking a fistful of your long hair into his palm as he plowed into you, hips slamming loudly against your skin throughout the otherwise quiet room—your back arches as you allowed him to take you. Your eyes rolled back, and you grasped the sheets tightly in your own hands.

Astarion had become increasingly possessive of you since the Mindflayer incident came to a close. Still, you’d never put him in a position to react so passionately to any jealousy he may have felt. When his hand wrapped around you to make contact with your clit, you knew you were putty in this man’s hands. He rubbed slowly and firmly, his other hand still in your hair. You cried out in pleasure, everything in your mind melting away as he fucked you into the bed.

“Bet Conrad never fucked you with such tenacity, hm, darling?” His words were confident, fastening his pace as he failed to receive an answer, a silent reminder that he expected a response from those pretty little lips.

“N-never.” You stutter feeling winded from the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Good girl.” He grunted in response, finding a smoother pace. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer with how your drenched core gripped his cock, and his fingers continued their attention over your sensitive clit. “You’re mine. Understand?”

You nod numbly as stars flood your vision, crying out with the orgasm that electrified your body. “Say it. Say you’re mine.” His words came from gritted teeth, and you obliged, the words falling from your mouth causing him to reach his completion, his seed filling you full. As he shifts to lay beside you, he looks at you with darkened eyes. “Why were you with him?” There was no hiding the distaste in his voice.

“Before you so rudely, but pleasurably, interrupted me, I was going to explain that to you.” You hummed teasingly, sitting up beside him. Your dress rested around your knees as you did so and you reached for the ring in your pocket. You offered it out to him and you didn’t have to speak a word for him to know what possibilities the simple-looking ring possessed.

He slipped it onto his finger and stood from the bed. He walked to the covered window and pushed the curtains aside. There he stood in all his glory, the sun's rays illuminated against his pale skin. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, letting out the faintest cry of satisfaction at the warmth he had so longed to feel again. You move to stand behind him, your arms wrapped around his waist. Your forehead rests against his back, and a content smile plays on your mouth. “You thrive in the sun, too.” You pointed out softly.

“Perhaps I owe that artificer a thank you. His scent on you tells me he touched you one too many times, though. That said, I will not like it. And I will not like him.” You knew Astarion would never accept Conrad as a friend due to his possessiveness, but you knew he was thankful. That was a step in the right direction at the least.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #reader #tav

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okenki · 4 days ago

Text

hello, hello! i'm ken and i love to create! i make this post to compile my works and where you can find them!

most of my comics are free and on comicfury! comicfury profile you can support comicfury on patreon and kofi!

___ my ongoing projects are: goth boyfriends

"goths? in your area?! more likely than you think! Follow the trials and tribulations of young adults wanna be goths as they navigate through life, love and... cringe! slam poetry sundays, queer self discovery and complicated friendships, all wrapped in spikes, crosses, leather and anything dark, cool & edgy really!"

updates: every 3 days

it also have a tumblr blog for it, i'll try to use it more for extra art and such and share updates! : )

MSAT

Music Sounds Awesome Together is a collection of one shots centred around the life of a few idiots phasing through time and space together. Includes a LOT of yappin', you have no idea.

updates: no schedules (it has some characters in common with "goth boyfriends", but except their names, sometimes appearances and some personality traits they are not the same at all. Sorry if it is confusing)

completed/one shots (it's a selection, but i have more, you can even find really sort one on the comics tag of my tumblr)

-dreamteam69 "The last match of the Dream Team..." for the 2019's edition of the 23h de la Bande Dessinée

-LUNNARP a bts fancomic "Yoongi vs. an IKEA table ft. 6 idiots"

-PigritiAdes The Adventures of Fleur and her Demon. for the 2018's edition of the 25h de la Bande Dessinée

you can find more comics on my itchio, compiled as pdf, a lot of fanzines, most of them free! and if you're cursed with the ability to understand french, i did a lot of 23h et 25h de la bande dessinée! name there is okenki as well!

i also made some games! mostly during game jams, all are free! they're all vns and can also be found on my itchio! i am very active on tumblr, comicfury, often post projects on itchio, i can be spotted on bluesky, and that's about it! deleted my art instagram and my account on whatever happened to twitter a long time ago. i'm mostly reachable via my pro email: okenkibox[at]gmail.com. i reply to comments on tumblr's post also if you have questions on a specific post if asks are closed! other places i very often miss messages! you can support me on patreon and have access to secret sketchbook monthly! i have over 50 available now! you can pledge a month, get them all and dip, i'm fine with that. other than that i very often have commissions on kofi, they are usually very cheap because they're very basic! :) thank you!! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ have a nice day!

PS! i have a FAQ and contact pages, i don’t know if you can access them on mobile/the app, so to sum it up:

please do not repost/reupload my work, especially not without credit, i’d appreciate if you could ask first. for personal use (icon, banner, printing for personal scrapbooking, .. anything you make no profit with) is ok! if applicable (icon, banner) please do credit and link back to either my blog or my carrd.

my art is never oriented to mean harm to anyone. please keep in mind english is not a language i’m very good with, i might make mistake or misunderstand, but it’s never malicious or vicious. thank you.

#pinned post #links #faq #okenki #comics #art #illustration #webcomics

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ask-the-royal-absol · 1 year ago

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(It has been one year since I joined the pokeask community with my silly absol. One whole year. How did I get here? Like, damn. It’s just been such a lovely community and I’ve met some truly wonderful people.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get more of you on here. I wish I had the time to draw each and every one of you. This is why I needed the head shot so thank you to everyone who sent it over. Thank you to everyone in this community for being my inspirations, my joy and my friends. I cannot thank you enough. If I could make you all something more to say thank you, I would. (Also forgive me if the image quality is garbage. Tumblr does that sometimes. If you click on it, it'll be clearer.)

I suppose I’ll just go on and say I’ve always admired the community from afar. So many stories I was following. So many inspirational people. The events. The characters. They are all so wonderful. And I followed these blogs for years.

Getting hooked into everything about the ask blog community. At first, I was going to making an ask blog about a royal Goodra/Vespiquen fusion who goes to other places to make political connections for their hive. I drew up a couple of concepts but I didn’t go ahead with it.

I kept following the community, constantly being inspired and amazed by everyone inside of it. I’d wanted to join a community for a while. At first, I joined the Pokémon fusion community. It was fun. I met some great people. But, after a few years, it didn’t fill me with joy. I did fusions on multiple platforms, even making some fusions for the infinite fusions game (they’re still in there). I had a go with commissions. It just became a bit of a chore.

I tried making my own region. It only lasted a month. It left a gap which I didn’t know how to fill. I also did dnd with friends which mostly satisfied this but we didn’t do it consistently enough. I definitely miss doing it. I probably did fusions for 6 years. The blogs are still up. There was nothing I wanted to draw consistently.

Near the end of last year, I had a really tough time. My mental health took a really big dip and I was struggling. It was an incredibly dark time. I didn’t have much going on. Maybe we were doing dnd. I don’t remember though. I started drawing Pokémon because I wasn’t in the mood to draw dnd art.

I don’t know why but I started to draw an absol. I think it may have been inspired by my current dnd character. As I was drawing this absol, ideas started to form in my mind about who this absol was and the world they were from. Ideas kept flowing and flowing.

Once the absol was finished, I drew another character, and another and another. And I just kept drawing. Soon, I started drawing maps and a prophecy for this absol and their world. The name Destino came from the word Destiny. It brought me so much joy. I worked on it for a few days and put it to the side.

Then came around the 27th December 2022. I looked back on my planning for this world and thought perhaps I could turn it into an ask blog. At first, I was so nervous. I didn’t want to go through with it. My partner convinced me to make the blog. That’s when I began to draw the first post. And on December 29th 2022, I created the blog and made a reference post for Destino.

Soon, the first post was posted and I got asks. Exciting stuff! And it was so much fun deciding how Destino would respond. More asks kept coming and I eventually started sending asks to others. The most exciting part would have to be seeing people follow me who I was a huge fan of. Gonna be honest, I’m still so incredibly excited when talking to these people and when they like my stuff.

My love for this blog grew and I’ve spent a lot of my time working on it. I have loved each and every moment of it. It was fun having this smug, egotistical absol interacting with many characters who I am a huge fan of and entertaining to see their reactions. Destino was becoming a bit of a thing. Memes were made of Destino. Destino was insulting every legendary they could come across. For me, it was hilarious. And it seemed others were enjoying their antics too.

I am incredibly thankful each day with every interaction, every like, every follow, every reblog, etc. I’ve had. I’m grateful for this entire community. Every one of you has been so friendly and I love talking to you. This community has filled a void which I wasn’t sure would be filled. And I hope I can continue loving being in this community for a while. Destino is going to stick around for a while. I’ve got big plans for them and I hope to enjoy this journey with you all.

Thank you everyone. I hope I can continue to work with you all and have fun! Let’s get ready for another year of Destino.)

#pokemon ask blog #pokemon #pokemon askblog #pokemon oc #ask blog #ask the royal absol #destino the absol #pokeask #ask #askblog community #pokeask community #mod goomy #long post #fanart Friday

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monstersandmaw · 1 year ago

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Male dullahan x gn reader (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

OH boy, this is a personal one for me on a number of levels (which usually means it's gonna tank), but here's the first of my five new commissions - this one is for the incredibly supportive and sweet @doomfisthero.

It features one of the Supernatural Biker Gang I mentioned in this post, which a lot of you seemed to like, so I hope you're keen to meet the cheeky, goofball dullahan with a heart of gold! Not gonna lie, I went way over the agreed wordcount for this one because it's the world I've already started building, and it's got characters I've already been thinking of for a while.

Content: gender neutral reader who experiences severe anxiety around being pranked/practical joked, which occurs at one point in the story. There’s no malicious intent or bullying behind the prank, and it gets discussed afterwards. The reader is a writer, doing research for a story about bikers, and has no idea that there's something a little 'extra' about this gang. Their friend, Adi, is dating one of them already, and I hope to write their story soon too.

Wordcount: 9216

“God, this was such a stupid idea,” you muttered as you approached the only shop on that wide, empty side street. Its metal sign swung gently back and forth in a light, autumn breeze, displaying a full moon on a black background, with a cruiser-style motorbike silhouetted in front of it, and the white, artfully-distressed font underneath it read ‘Full Moon Motorcycles’.

A second later, your friend stepped out onto the pavement and you knew there was no turning back. Adrianne grinned at you, so you kicked your feet back into motion and closed the distance between you, offering her a small hug. Your leather messenger bag bumped against your hip with the movement, and you wondered if perhaps you should have left your notebook and stuff at home for this first time. It felt more like an interview than getting to know them, and you were worried the group of unfamiliar bikers might take offence that you essentially wanted to study them for your novel.

“Ready to meet the gang?” she laughed, sweeping her messy, dark blonde hair back out of her eyes. “God, you look terrified. Come on, they’re nice! Except maybe Pixie. Don’t mess with her, but she’s not here today. Or Demon, but even he’s ok when you get to know him, I swear.”

“Not helping, Adi,” you grumbled.

Ever since she’d started working for Dahlia Ink across town about six months ago, Adrianne had been hanging around with the group of bikers who all got their ink done there it seemed, and it had almost felt like serendipity in action when she’d told you about them over coffee last weekend. You didn’t tend to talk much about your writing, even with your friends, but you trusted Adi, and she’d always been supportive of your career as an author, so you’d shyly opened up to her about your latest idea for a story featuring a group of bikers. You did leave out the part where the bikers in your story were mostly vampires and werewolves, with a few other supernatural species thrown in as well. Fantasy had always been your comfort-genre, but people had snickered in the past and made you feel like it wasn’t a ‘serious’ genre that ‘serious’ writers pursued, so you’d omitted it this time while telling her about it.

“It’s the perfect excuse for you to come and finally meet Țepeș then!” she’d blurted excitedly into the foam of her cappuccino, her green-brown eyes going wide with excitement at the idea of including you in her group of new friends. They all had weird nicknames, and you had no idea if it was a ‘biker’ thing or just a ‘them’ thing, but you’d been burning up with curiosity about them ever since she’d first started dating the one called Țepeș. “I’ve been dying to find an excuse for you to come meet him. Plus you can ask him anything you want to know for your story, and — oh…”

Her face had fallen, and you’d frowned, heart dropping already. “What?”

“Eh, he’s… he’s not completely non-verbal, but Țepeș doesn’t exactly find talking easy. Maybe you could come to the shop and meet the rest of them instead though? I’m sure Pickle or Pumpkin would love to talk your ear off about their bikes…”

“I dunno, I don’t want to get in the way,” you’d said, trying not to let that tiny, kindling ember of hope in your chest wink out completely. “But if you wanted to ask them…?”

She’d run it past her boyfriend, and Țepeș had said he’d ask Hank. Hank, apparently, was the guy who ran the bike shop where they’d all met and first formed their group, and two nights later, you’d got a text in all caps from Adi saying ‘BASIC BIKER 101 FOR WRITERS IS ON!!!! When are you next free?!!!’

A week later, you and your messenger bag with notebook and pens had shown up outside Full Moon Motorcycles, with little clue what to expect, and a heart full of trepidation.

Adrianne giggled as she ushered you inside, and to your relief, you found there were only two other people inside instead of a shop full of strangers. An array of bikes for sale was lined up around the right hand side of the space, and against the back wall there was a wooden counter almost like a bar, where the vintage till and a few key chains were displayed, while the left side of the space appeared to be a more general spot for tinkering and hanging out. Even with the light flooding in through the two huge, picture windows on either side of the door, the lighting was soft, and the polished concrete floor created a mellow atmosphere. The scent of coffee and motor oil hung heavy in the air, and you found it oddly comforting as you soaked it all up.

Behind the counter, a stocky man with greying, wavy hair that wasn’t quite long enough to tie back but was too long to look tidy smiled you and raised a meaty hand. His blue tartan shirt stretched precariously over a hearty paunch, and he exuded a jovial kind of warmth as his honey-brown eyes crinkled. “Hey there,” he said. “I’m Hank, though most people round here just call me Dad —”

“— he adopts literally everyone who walks through that door, so congrats on joining the family,” Adi laughed.

“Take your pick on names,” Hank chortled. “I understand you’re a writer…” He seemed interested and a little impressed, which was a bit of a confidence boost.

“Yeah,” you croaked and cleared your throat. “Yeah… uh… thank you for letting me hang out here for a bit. I don’t know anything about bikes… I’m just looking to learn a bit so it makes sense for my novel, you know? I’m not going to get in anyone’s way.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” he smiled, gesturing dismissively with his massive paw of a hand. “You just ask what you like and we’ll do our best to help you out. You must know Țepeș already if you’re Adi’s friend?”

You shook your head and Hank looked across the room to where the other person was lurking at the back of the space. You hadn’t noticed Adi leaving your side, but when you turned around, you found her standing with both hands pressed fondly against the chest of the tall, imposing biker dressed all in black and wearing his helmet too, which you thought was an odd choice. But what did you know about the habits of bikers? You were there to learn after all; learn and observe.

Adi waved you over, and you swallowed your nerves and cast Hank a farewell glance before approaching. When Adi stepped back, Țepeș pushed himself off the wall and held out his hand to you to shake. It, like the rest of him, was covered in leather or padded gear. There wasn’t a scrap of skin showing on him anywhere, and with your own face reflected in his black visor, it was impossible to get a read on him.

As if she’d read your mind, Adi smacked Țepeș in the chest with the back of her hand and said, “At least put your visor up, you big, intimidating doofus.”

He snorted a silent laugh and lifted the catch on his visor to reveal a sliver of pale skin and irises as black as the rest of his leather gear. Like Hank’s though, his eyes were kindly, and he closed them briefly as he inclined his head in a kind of apologetic bow. You shrugged, and he laughed breathily.

Hank chose that moment to come over, and you jumped as he clapped you on the shoulders. How a man built like a grizzly in autumn had moved so quietly was a mystery. “Come on, Țepeș, why don’t we give our new friend a demonstration of how a bike works? Since your Ducati is in, why don’t we use that?”

Țepeș gave a quick nod, and ducked away through the door that stood in the centre of the back wall, and a moment later, he pushed an absolute monster of a bike out into the empty space. He jutted his chin towards the front door, and Adi nipped over to open it for him, and when you frowned, she laughed. “That Streetfighter is so fucking loud,” she snorted. “You do not want him starting it up in here.”

“And nor do I!” Hank called, now mysteriously back behind the till though you hadn’t heard him leave. You made a mental note to weave something like that into your story for the supernatural biker characters, and then nodded, feeling sheepish, and followed the two of them out of the shop and onto the quiet side-street outside.

Until six months ago, Adi hadn’t known anything about bikes either, so she used your introductory tutorial as a kind of test for herself, interspersed with little glances up at Țepeș to check that she’d got it right. He either nodded or pointed to correct her, but he didn’t speak. She hadn’t been kidding about him being mostly non-verbal.

After Adi had shown you the basics of the bike’s anatomy, Țepeș patted the seat of the bike and gestured to her to get on it, but she laughed and shook her head. “No way, babe. I’m way too short.”

He put his fists comically on his hips and shook his head, then patted the seat again like he was trying to get a wilful cat up onto a chair.

She made a noise of protest, but did swing a leg over and then hoisted herself evenly into the seat, both legs dangling freely a good way off the ground.

“Happy now?” she shot at him and he nodded emphatically, bringing both hands to the sides of his helmet in a way that mimicked a person losing their mind over a cute kitten. “You’re lucky I love you, you overgrown dork,” she muttered. “Anyway,” she said, turning back to you. “Since this beast has made me get up here, I’m going to start his bike. Not so funny now that I could actually fuck it up, is it?” she grinned.

Țepeș remained perfectly still, and you got the impression it was a comical warning.

“I can’t flat-foot it,” she said to you, “So I’m gonna rest my left foot on the curb after I’ve flicked the kickstand up,” she said. “You can start it with the kickstand down, but if you put it into first, it'll cut out.”

You noted that down, and let her get on with the rest of the sequence uninterrupted, which seemed a lot more complicated than you’d imagined.

Near the end of your tutorial on how to start a bike and the basics of clutch control, and the apparent struggle to find neutral, the sound of a number of approaching engines tore through the quiet afternoon. You looked back over your shoulder to see three sports bikes round the corner and make their way towards you.

The three riders couldn’t have been more different. The one you noticed first was riding a big, brash, bright orange bike that reminded you a bit of a sporty looking dirt bike, and he was wearing, of all things, a black and white cow onesie, with a cow helmet cover complete with fabric horns and ears.

“Fucking Pumpkin,” Adi laughed. “Honestly. I think you’ll love him.”

“Pumpkin?” you asked, wondering how on earth he’d got that name. Then again, Țepeș was a pretty unusual nickname. Perhaps he was a vampire under all that leather, shielding himself from the fury of the sun with his biker gear just so he could spend more time with his human lover during the day… You yanked your over-active imagination back into the present and out of your fantasy novel, and watched the trio of bikers approach down the quiet side street.

“Yeah, Pumpkin’s his name. It’s because he’s a —” Țepeș elbowed Adi in the ribs sharply enough that she had to grab the handlebars to stop herself toppling off his bike. Her eyes went wide and she instantly clicked her jaw shut.

As an author, you were used to watching and studying people, and noting your observations for later. Another writer you knew online had called it ‘cataloguing the everyday’, and it was an apt description. Adi had very nearly given away something huge about Pumpkin, and Țepeș had given her a silent but stern warning.

“Because he loves pranks, like on Halloween?” she finished a little too quickly. “He dresses up with silly helmet covers all the time and he likes to play jokes on people.”

Maybe he wasn’t your kind of person at all. The very idea of having a practical joke pulled on you was enough to make you feel sick and shaky all over. You'd always hated them, and they’d always left you feeling devastated and on-edge if they happened to you. The more you trusted the person, the worse it felt afterwards.

Țepeș’ huge hand landed carefully on your shoulder joint and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly at you. At least, you thought he was smiling reassuringly. All you could see were his glinting black eyes that were creased at the corners, and the way the apples of his pale cheeks were slightly more squished than usual behind the padding in his helmet.

You tried out a smile of your own, and then realised that Adi was talking again.

“He’s such a goofball, but that’s got to be his craziest outfit yet! You should see his other helmet covers; they’re all bonkers. My favourite is the pink rabbit one.”

Țepeș nodded once in agreement and let go of your shoulder. You swayed a little at the loss, feeling untethered.

“The guy on the red Ducati is Demon, and the short one on the Ninja in the middle is Pickle.”

When the newcomers spotted the three of you standing around Țepeș’ bike, Pumpkin revved raucously, almost seeming to make his bike laugh with joy at the sight of you. Then he hauled it up into a massive wheelie, only dropping back down once he’d torn past you in a near-vertical pose. Your heart was in your mouth the whole time, but he looked relaxed and even amused behind that absurd costume as he landed it and swerved the bike around to make his way back towards you while the other two came over in a more sedate fashion. In fact, they were so sedate it reminded you of two sharks approaching, and your mouth went dry. Adi had said they were cool with you being there and asking questions, but just then, it didn’t really feel like it.

The one riding the lurid, neon green bike was so short that you wondered for a crazy second if maybe they were a child. The owner of the red bike revved his something wicked as he cruised to a stop, and you had to fight the urge to step back. It felt like being roared at full in the face by a lion, and it didn’t help at all that the guy had curling ram’s horns adorning his black helmet. Even though it was a nippy autumn day, he was wearing a white t-shirt that showed off a golden tan and a truly impressive physique, and his black jeans had a rip in the knee that added to his tough-guy appearance.

Standing beside his own bike, Țepeș folded his arms and jutted his chin in a warning. Demon revved his deafening bike once more though, and the back wheel skimmed from side to side on the tarmac as blue smoke churned up into the air.

Țepeș shook his head and a few seconds later, Demon stopped his mini burnout, and instead leaned forwards on the bike, resting one arm casually on the tank. His whole attention was fixed on you and you tried hard not to regret all of this. It was research. You were here for your story. It was fine. His visor was tinted like Țepeș’ was, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze through the plastic just as clearly as if there had been nothing blocking his eyes from yours.

“Just giving a welcome to your new friend, Țepeș,” the guy purred in a silky baritone that made you think of teeth in the dark.

As the brief puff of acrid smoke from his tyres cleared, the short rider flipped their visor up and regarded you with beady, golden eyes that had to be contacts, surely? Even the pupils were slitted like a cat’s.

“Who’s this?” came a reedy, tenor voice from under the helmet. Definitely not a child after all, and their skin had a strange, greenish tinge to it that you initially took to be makeup until you realised it went all the way down their cheeks as well. Tattoos? Some kind of condition? You tried not to stare.

Before either you or Adi could respond to their question, the cow onesie rider screeched to a comical halt beside the other two, locking up the front wheel and making the rear of his bike kick up like a bronco, and Adi shook her head. “Pumpkin, honestly. What are you like?”

“I’m Legen-dairy!” he grinned, gesturing wide with both hands. “Oh, hey! New friend?!” he exclaimed, waving enthusiastically when he saw you standing awkwardly beside Țepeș’ bike. He had a lilting Irish accent and a playful intonation that warmed you to him immediately, despite knowing about his penchant for practical jokes.

“Don’t mind Pumpkin,” Adi smiled at you. “He’s… something else.”

“I’m highly a-moo-sing, is what I am,” the guy chuckled. His words sounded clearer than the others behind their helmets, and you wondered if it was something about the design that made it easier to hear him.

“Oh god, please stop with the cow puns,” Pickle groaned, casting him a withering look with those unusual eyes.

“But Pickle, I’m udderly fantastic!”

“Stop.”

“This is just plain bull-ying!” Pumpkin whined, and then he started to bop up and down on his bike as he sang, “My milkshake brings—”

“If you howl one more out of tune word, Demon will eat you for breakfast, and not in a fun way,” Pickle said, casting a glance at the biker with the horns on his helmet.

For answer, the biker in question cocked his head just a little to one side, and Pumpkin slumped in his seat, arms and legs dangling comically, head lolling forwards so that the soft horns on his helmet cover flopped. He let out a long, sad mooing noise sound that dissolved into giggles at the end, and Pickle punched him on the arm.

“Loser,” Pickle snorted with obvious fondness.

“Anyway, I want you to meet my friend,” Adi cut in, turning to you. “I’m sorry you had to meet Pumpkin when he’s in this mood, but —”

“Moo-d!” Pumpkin interrupted triumphantly and immediately burst out laughing. He almost tipped backwards off his big, orange bike. Even you managed to crack a shy smile at that one. It was infectious.

“I give up,” Pickle said, and hopped down off his green Kawasaki, disappearing into the shop without a backward glance just as Hank stepped out.

“How’s that lesson going?” he asked you.

“I’m not planning on riding solo any time soon,” you smiled, “But I’ve got enough of an idea of how things work to start writing, I think.”

Hank nodded and, glancing around at Pumpkin who was still bouncing up and down and making his suspension creak a little, said, “Ah, they’re all idiots, but they’re kind, and they’re my idiots.”

He introduced you by name, and told Pumpkin and Demon why you were there. Pumpkin seemed intrigued, tilting his head to one side and calming his crazy energy a little as he regarded you through the tinted visor, but Demon growled softly as he pushed himself upright again and folded his arms across his ripped chest, muttering something about letting their guard down again.

Țepeș moved away from his bike, petting the back of Adi’s blonde head in a fond, distracted gesture, and then signalled for Demon to follow him inside, which, to your surprise, the big guy did. He walked like a Greek god — like he owned the place and not Hank — but it was clear that he had respect for Țepeș.

Pumpkin took advantage of their absence and leaned a little way off his bike towards you. “So, you’re a writer? That’s pretty cool. And you’re writing a… a book? A story? About bikers?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s not the main focus, but it’s a big part of it.” If you hadn’t wanted to open up to Adi about it being a supernatural fantasy story, you sure as heck weren’t going to admit it to a bunch of intimidating, high-octane bikers. “It was Adi who suggested I come and learn a bit more about it all from you guys though…” you said, not wanting them to think you’d just inserted yourself into their group without invitation. Especially given Demon’s weird reaction.

“Awesome,” Pumpkin said, fist-bumping Adi then turning back to you. “You gonna ride with us? We’re all heading out in a bit so you should come too!”

“I… maybe?” you faltered. That had not been on the cards for the day, but the more you thought about it, the more your heart began to race.

“The KTM has a passenger seat,” Pumpkin said, gesturing behind him and patting his pillion seat. “You can be my backpack if you like! I promise I won’t wheelie. I’m not taking the onesie off though,” he added, mooing and shaking his head so that the fabric horns waggled comically.

His energy and enthusiasm really were infectious. He bounced up and down again like an excitable, cow-print puppy, and you bit your lip. The idea of holding onto him, of being perched on the back of his mad, orange bike, was oddly… enticing. Even with his embarrassing costume.

“Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun! It’s only a short ride because Coco’s Honda’s playing up for some reason,” he added. “Is she here yet? I don’t see her little bumblebee…”

“Bumblebee?” you asked.

“Coco’s bike is a Honda Hornet,” Adi supplied. “She’s got these little antennae for her helmet too. It’s so cute. And no,” she added to Pumpkin. “You guys are the first.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the day’s riders to arrive, and soon you watched a screaming pink bike roll up, with its rider wearing baby pink leathers and a pink helmet. Her name was Barbie, appropriately enough, and a few minutes later, a skinny guy in all black leathers with a black helmet bearing a decal like a maw full of teeth pulled up, alongside Coco on her black and yellow Honda Hornet that looked very much like the Transformer.

“I see why you call it Bumblebee,” you said to Adi, who was standing on the pavement with you, chatting and slipping you random bits of information about both the bikes and the bikers. The others had all gone inside, leaving you with Adi still casually sitting astride her boyfriend’s enormous, black Ducati Streetfighter outside in the sunshine, and honestly it was nice to catch your breath and let your heart rate settle again.

Pumpkin, apparently, was only a few years older than you, and he had moved to the city to get away from his family and their career expectations for him. His name was actually Callahan, or Cal, but literally everyone called him Pumpkin.

Pickle was non-binary and surprisingly a full decade older than you. They lived with their mother, who needed a bit of extra care these days, and had taken up riding only a year or so ago. Demon, Adi didn’t discuss at all, and she said little about Barbie other than that she kept herself to herself a lot and was pretty shy.

Coco came out to soak up some autumn sunshine a while later, and was one of the only bikers who actually took off her helmet. Beneath it, she had thick, wavy, chocolate brown hair and brown eyes that made you want to drown in them, and a smile so pretty it made your heart skip several beats. She gave off the kind of energy that made you feel safe and relaxed, and you let out a long, slow exhale, feeling the sun wash up over your skin.

That peace lasted until Demon stormed out of the shop, followed by Pumpkin, Țepeș, and Pickle.

“Everything ok?” Adi whispered to Țepeș when he came over and hugged her tightly from behind before passing her a spare helmet. He nodded and jerked his thumb towards his bike. “Yeah, I’m good to go. You coming?” she asked you, and you found yourself nodding before you’d even realised.

“Yes!” Pumpkin bayed in triumph and you startled, not having heard him return to his bike. “You’re mine! I claim you. You’re my backpack!”

“Like anyone else wants a human for baggage,” Demon muttered so quietly you weren’t sure you were supposed to have heard it. As he passed, he slammed his visor back down and you could have sworn that he’d had completely scarlet eyes. You wondered if you were losing your mind a little bit, or if the fantasy of your novel was beginning to bleed into the real world through your over-active imagination.

Pumpkin practically vaulted back up onto his orange bike and he held out his hand to you. “Alright! My precious and beautiful backpack,” he said, “Hop on!”

Easier said than done, you thought, ignoring the compliment. You watched your reflection distort in his visor as he turned his head when you faltered anxiously.

“I’ll look after you, I promise. But I’m gonna rely on you to tell me if Pickle’s coming for my killswitch, ok?”

Recalling your brief lesson with Țepeș, you eyed the red switch on his right handlebar and said, “That?”

“Yeah, that. Protect it at all costs,” he giggled. “I mean, not all costs, obviously but… Actually, scratch that. It’s Ninja you wanna watch out for. He’s a sneaky, sneaky boy. He blends in so no one sees him coming…” A few of them laughed in a way that made you feel like there was more to it than just an inside joke, and your stomach churned.

A glance back at the skinny guy on the black bike behind you revealed Ninja tilting his hands outwards in a ‘who, me?’ kind of gesture. Hank came over and gave you a helmet, taking your messenger bag from you and promising to keep it safe behind the counter. You slid the helmet on and buckled it up, trying not to feel like an impostor.

Getting aboard wasn’t as hard as you’d thought it was going to be, with brief instruction from Adi and Pumpkin on how to put your feet on the pegs, though you did clunk your helmet against Pumpkin’s when you leaned too far forward, but he made things easier by telling you to hold him round the waist. He turned back over one shoulder and said, “It’s kinda forward, but I don’t mind. You’re cute and I don’t want you falling off.” He had such a lovely voice — warm and rich and reassuring — and you found yourself laughing softly.

“If you say so.”

Pumpkin talked a mile a minute and you really had to work to process everything he was saying as it tumbled out of him in a wild, happy torrent. “You are cute! You’re gonna have a blast today. I can’t believe I’m your first! Oh, and watch out for silly string too. I don’t think Pickle has any in their pocket today, but last time they got me good and it was all over my helmet and my orange baby,” he added petting the tank of his bike.

Your heart lurched at the idea of these pranks maybe escalating, and you tried to swallow down the nausea; you did not want to be sick in a motorcycle helmet. The cold sweat took a while to evaporate and you were sure Pumpkin would feel your heartbeat as you clung onto him before he’d even started the bike. The cow onesie did add a little levity though, and you tried not to feel too silly.

When Adi was safely aboard Țepeș’ bike, Țepeș revved his readiness a few times from the rear of the group, and Pumpkin nodded. “Forward!” he yelled, pointing like he was leading a cavalry charge as he nudged up his kickstand and prepared to draw away.

Adi had been right.

The ride was amazing.

Terrifying, exhilarating, wonderful, and, in the strangest way possible, it made you forget everything.

All you could focus on was the way Pumpkin moved with the bike like it was a part of him — almost like a rider and his horse — and on trying to move with him as he leaned into the corners. He was slim and fit beneath your grip, and he didn’t seem to be wearing any kind of padding under the onesie, but he was wearing biker boots instead of ordinary shoes. There was something alluring about the fact you’d not seen his face and he’d not taken his helmet off. Țepeș had a similar vibe, but it was Pumpkin and his wild, silly energy you found yourself drawn to. It was almost euphoric to be able to press the front of your body against this kind, funny stranger’s back and let him sweep you along the roads.

Of course, there were shenanigans at the first red light you came to.

Pickle came for Pumpkin’s killswitch immediately — almost like they were testing you — but you tapped Pumpkin on the shoulder when you saw Pickle stalking up the line of bikes. Ninja covered his killswitch and waggled a finger at Pickle, and when Pumpkin saw who was coming, he patted your thigh a few times. “Nice one,” he said with a grin evident in his voice. “Best early warning system and best backpack ever! You can ride with me every time!”

You glowed with pride, even though you knew it was probably only fun and games, and when Pickle failed to catch Pumpkin’s killswitch and the lights changed, you laughed with the rest of them as Pickle bolted back to their Ninja and hopped comically onto it at the very last second while Pumpkin sped away fast enough to make you yelp and grip him hard around the middle. You felt him laugh and held him tighter.

He petted your hands where they were laced securely in front of him, and even though you didn’t have comms in your helmet, you got the message: ‘I’ve got you’. You did feel safe with him despite his love of pranks, and you were literally trusting him with your life as you rode behind him.

When the ride came to an end about an hour later, and the group drew to a halt at Full Moon Motorcycles again, you were shaky with the aftereffects of adrenaline and from simply holding on, but beneath your helmet, you were grinning wildly. Secretly, you already couldn’t wait for the next ride and prayed he would ask you again.

Pickle pulled their bike up on your right, the green Ninja 400 idling gently, and when they killswitched Pumpkin’s bike at last, Pumpkin guffawed, but without missing a beat he extended his right leg and tapped the gear lever down to put Pickle’s bike into first, making the bike stall and lurch forwards.

“Gotcha!” he crowed, and then helped you off the back by letting you steady yourself on his shoulders. “And for the pièce de résistance,” he said, fishing in the pouch of his onesie, and he turned something cylindrical in your direction. “I was saving this for Pickle, but since it’s your first ride, you deserve a decent celebration!”

With a loud bang and a flurry of coloured squares of paper, a confetti cannon went off in your face and you screeched in shock, tripping over your heels and landing hard on the pavement behind you. The pieces of paper fluttered down around you while panic and fear and everything you hated about being pranked exploded out of you. Your heartbeat went through the roof. You just glimpsed the horns of Demon’s helmet in the doorway to the shop, and your heart dropped when you saw he was laughing.

Pumpkin was laughing too, and pointing, and beside him Pickle clapped their gloved hands and crooned, “Oh man, he got you good!”

He had got you good, and you hated it.

You hated that it was just a silly, harmless prank, but you were reacting like he’d done something serious. You hated that you couldn’t just laugh it off the way they all did. You hated that you took it so seriously; that it felt like the worst kind of betrayal of that fragile trust you’d started to put in a stranger. And then, behind the visor of your helmet, the tears began to flow uncontrollably.

A huge figure appeared in your blurred vision and you looked up to find Țepeș kneeling down beside you. He blocked the others from your sight with his massive body, and he lifted his visor to show his black eyes full of concern.

You nodded, trying to pull yourself together and grateful beyond belief that the helmet was still covering your face, even though it felt like you were running out of oxygen in there. Pulling yourself together was like trying to hold a bag full of sand with fraying seams. You were seeping and spilling out all over the place and you couldn’t stop. You tried to tell yourself it was just a confetti cannon. You tried to tell yourself it was just a bit of fun.

You tried, and failed.

“I’m… I’m ok… I’m…” you gulped, aware of how choked your voice sounded.

Țepeș stood and held out a hand, pulling you to your feet and ushering you carefully inside. You didn’t miss the way he put himself between you and Demon, who was still snickering in the doorway, and you let him lead you into the shop and into the back room.

He snagged a box of tissues from under the shop’s counter in passing and guided you into a chair. He signalled for you to undo your helmet, which you did with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry,” you gulped as you drew it off over your head and set it on the floor. “I’m sorry I’m overreacting.”

Țepeș shook his head and squeezed your shoulder, offering you a tissue.

“It’s just a prank, I know that, but…”

Again, he squeezed your shoulder, and you took a deeper, steadier breath.

“I hate pranks. Even the harmless ones. I always overreact like this. I’m sorry. It’s not his fault, but… I thought… I thought maybe he… he wouldn’t…”

A knock on the door made you jump, and Țepeș made a ‘stay there’ gesture with his hand and ducked out of the room. A short, seemingly one-sided conversation passed outside while you fought to control yourself again, and then Pumpkin ducked inside.

“Hey,” he said, and your heart broke a little at the change in his energy. It was like he’d completely deflated. He was still wearing the cow onesie though, which brought a slightly hysterical chuckle to your lips before you could stop it. “I’m so sorry,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of your chair. “I… I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

“It’s not you,” you said, sniffling and turning away, cuffing at your eyes. “I just overreacted.”

“You didn’t overreact,” he said, and your brain screeched to a halt.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have done it to you. I didn’t know if you were cool with it, and I just assumed that… that because everyone else likes my pranks… that you’d be ok with it too, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll never ever pull anything like that on you again. Ever.” He crossed his thumb across his heart. “I swear on my True Name.”

The wording was odd, but the air seemed to crystallise around you for a second, and your breath caught. “Like a Fae,” you mumbled without thinking.

He tilted his helmeted head a little. “Yeah,” he said and his voice had an odd ring to it. “You… You know about… about the Fae?”

“I’m writing a book…” you croaked, not really thinking about what you were saying. “Supernatural theme… I’ve always written fantasy stuff… Look, I’m sorry. I’m over-sharing about stuff that isn’t even real. I’m good,” you said, and stood up abruptly, setting your borrowed helmet down on the chair and turning to look at him. He was on his feet again, but he was just standing there.

You walked out into the main shop but he called your name and you halted and turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Are… Are you gonna come back?”

You bit your lip. You probably had enough to write the book now — the biker part of it wasn’t even the main focus after all — but until the prank, you’d felt included and welcomed, and, as you thought about it, the prank had also been meant to welcome you into the fold. It wasn’t Pumpkin’s fault that you had reacted the way you did.

“You want me to?” you asked.

“Please,” he said. “Please, I’d love it. I’ve… I’ve never had anyone I’ve wanted to be my backpack before, and you rode like a natural today,” he added, taking a step towards you. “Please. I promise no one will do any pranks when you’re with us. No silly string, no confetti cannons.”

“I don’t mind it… With the others, I mean,” you said, the words grinding out of you like a boulder uphill. “I mean… So long as it’s not me.”

“Ok, we’ll dial it back,” he compromised. “I’ll even give you one of my little stretchy sticky hands if you like so you can team up on Pickle with me. We duel at the lights sometimes. Does that count as a prank?”

You shook your head, fighting back a resurgence of emotions, mostly good this time.

“Ok. I’m really sorry,” he said again.

“I believe you,” you said.

“Thank you,” Pumpkin replied, his whole body looking relieved. It was amazing how expressive someone could be, even without being able to see their face. “Let me give you my number and I’ll text you when we’re going out next. Or… Or maybe we could go out just the two of us?”

That seemed like way more pressure than you’d been expecting, but you nodded all the same when you realised you weren’t put off by it at all.

As you left the shop not long afterwards, having recovered enough to let the red fade from your eyes, Demon looked you up and down and then approached Pumpkin. You glanced back over your shoulder to see him looming down over Pumpkin, and you just caught him growling, “What happens when you need to take that helmet off eh, Dullahan? You think that cute accent is going to be enough to hide the fact you don’t have a fucking head under there?”

Your breath caught and you tripped, turning away before either of them could notice your reaction.

For a moment, when Demon had spat the word ‘Dullahan’ you’d thought he’d said ‘Callahan’ — Pumpkin’s real name — but the instant he’d said Pumpkin didn’t have a head, your mind made the connection.

Dullahan.

A Fae without a head, traditionally a headless horseman.

The way Pumpkin had moved with his bike, like it was a living creature, had reminded you of a horse and its rider, and you had to wonder if the nickname ‘Pumpkin’ had come from the cartoonish depictions of Dullahans on Halloween with a pumpkin for a head instead of their real one. They did have a head, you knew from research for your writing, but they tended to keep it hidden since that was where their power resided. They could only be harmed if you hurt their head, or if they were wearing it when you attacked them.

But that was all fantasy, right?

Then Demon’s red eyes flickered across your memory, and the weird emphasis he’d put on the word ‘human’ in his snide remarks, and the way you’d thought maybe Țepeș was a vampire because he kept his skin covered up, and the fact that Pickle’s skin was entirely green and they had gold eyes with cat’s pupils… it was all way too much of a coincidence. Right?

You walked home in a daze, not even saying goodbye to Adi who was talking quietly with Țepeș in the long, late afternoon shadows cast by the bike shop’s wall.

Over the next few rides with Pumpkin, you tried to figure out a way to broach the topic. If you just blurted it out, you had no idea how the others would react, so you dropped little hints to Pumpkin that you were writing a supernatural story and that you’d been researching the supernatural for a while, and how you’d always hoped there was more out there than met the eye. You even mentioned it a couple of times on group rides to see how the others reacted, and predictably, it was Demon who bristled, and Pumpkin who looked uncomfortable. Like he had a secret he wanted to tell you.

Each time you did it, he looked torn, like he was right on the cusp of telling you the truth.

It finally came to an ugly head one afternoon as the riding season drew to a close in late October and you all came back from a huge group ride that had included a few more riders whom you’d not met before, but who evidently knew the rest of the group.

As you went inside to return the helmet that Hank always lent you, you caught the sound of an argument and hung back in the small storage room behind the main shop to avoid it, heart in your throat and the helmet forgotten in one hand.

Pickle was standing in the main area of the shop with their helmet dangling from their hand this time, and you gasped when you saw sharply-tapered ears and a row of pointed teeth in their mouth, and green skin that went all the way down below their collar. Definitely not a tattoo. They looked sharp, their features inhuman; like one of the goblins in your novel. If you’d needed confirmation that they weren’t human, this had to be it.

Pickle was arguing with Adi and Demon, and Pumpkin was there too, looking helplessly from one to the other of them.

Demon was shouting, and he didn’t have his helmet on either. Perhaps they’d thought you’d already left. The horns that adorned his helmet were… actually attached to his head, not his helmet. He had horns. They obviously grew from his hairline, his black hair waving around them like a river of oil that had a rainbow sheen on it, and his eyes were a luminous, blood-red with slit pupils too. He rounded on Pumpkin like a Wolf on a rabbit. “You think just because we let Țepeș’ little human blood-bag in, we can risk exposing us all to just anyone?” Demon snarled. “I thought you wanted to keep our kind a secret? Now you’re siding with him?”

“Hey!” Adi exclaimed, but Pickle’s lip curled and they turned to her.

“He has got a point, Adi, though the blood-bag comment was way out of line,” Pickle said. “We have to be careful, but —”

“This is different,” Pumpkin interjected. “Ok? I’ve never been in love before, and I love —”

“No. It’s not fucking ok! This is the one place we get to be who we are,” Demon countered, his deep voice cracking as he clearly fought off tears. He sounded afraid and upset in a way that went right to your heart. “This is the one place where we can be safe, Cal, and you’re jeopardising it for all of us. And if we start letting humans in, if our secret gets out —”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Pickle said faintly, staring straight at you watching the argument unfold, stunned. They were arguing because of you. Because Pumpkin had taken a liking to you — in fact, he’d just said he loved you…

A pair of gold eyes and a pair of scarlet eyes stared at you, while Adi stood there hugging herself and looking hurt and unsure, and Pumpkin was standing stock still with his black helmet still on but you knew he was looking at you too. Was he going to defend you, or discard you and stick with his friends? They weren’t human. None of them was human. Demon’s eyes were blaring a violent red and he had horns growing out of his black hairline and curling back over his head, and there was a watercolour patch of red creeping over his golden tan as if he was losing control of his form. And Pickle was apparently some kind of goblin?

“You’re a Dullahan,” you said quietly, looking at Pumpkin. “A Fae.”

“You know?” Demon hissed, taking half a step towards you. “How the fuck do you know?” and then he shoved Pumpkin back with a hand at each shoulder. “You’ve taken your helmet off already? Did you disclose your head’s location while you were at it?”

Pumpkin shook his head vehemently but then he lifted his shiny, black helmet off in what looked like an act of defiance to Demon.

In the void where his head should have been there was a swirl of bluish-green smoke emanating from the stump of his neck, like the aurora in the night sky, and his skin was a dark, slate-blue colour. Your mind struggled to accept what you were seeing, but with the additional evidence of Pickle’s green skin and Demon’s horns, you knew it all had to be true.

Walking closer, as if moving through a dream, you ignored Demon’s constant, caged-animal growl, but you did jump when the door flew open and Țepeș burst in. He strode straight over to Adi and wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders, tugging her close and putting himself between her and the others. He cocked his head in an impatiently curious manner and Adi answered his silent demand.

“Demon’s laying into Pumpkin about flirting with a human while hiding what he is,” Adrianne said, glaring flatly at Demon. “And he called me your blood-bag,” she added.

Țepeș’ fists curled, leather creaking, and he took a long, slow inhale, as though he was trying very hard not to lose control and launch himself at Demon.

Before anything else could happen, someone clapped their hands abruptly from the side of the shop where the till and the bikes were arrayed, and you all jumped.

Hank was standing there and his eyes were glowing golden. “This family is built on trust,” he said in a low, gravelly bass, and you saw that his canines were chunkier and longer than they usually were, and his hair seemed thicker and fuller, his beard a little bushier around the chops. “And if we welcome each other into it, we must be prepared to trust each other’s judgement.”

“We’re just a little research project!” Demon said, rounding on you. “Adi told you what we are, didn’t she, so you thought you’d come and study us like a science experiment?”

You were still staring at Pumpkin’s empty collar and wondering in an odd, detached kind of way where it would be considered polite for you to look now — did you look at the point where his eyes would be if he had a head, or did you look at his chest? Only a second or two later did Demon’s words filter through and you blinked. “What?”

“You’re writing a fucking book about us! How does that count as trustworthy?”

“I’m not — It’s not about you,” you shot back. “The book isn’t about you. The protagonist is dating a vampire who’s in a biker gang, but… Adi didn’t tell me anything at all about you. I didn’t know you weren’t human until… until I overheard you accusing Pumpkin a few weeks ago. You said something about not having a head under his helmet, and you called him a Dullahan.” You swallowed thickly and watched the shock filter through everyone’s expressions at your words. “At first I thought you were saying his name, but then I realised you said ‘Dullahan’, not ‘Callahan’, and because I’ve looked into supernatural stuff, I put two and two together. I’ve known for weeks,” you said, chest heaving as you fought to maintain some semblance of composure while you finished your defence. “I could have said something, or I could have just not come back, but I trusted you guys.” Tears finally blurred your vision. “You treated me like family. Why would I betray you?”

Pumpkin moved first.

He strode across he space, dropping his helmet on the floor with a loud crack that would have made anyone who needed a helmet to protect their head wince, but you figured his was purely for decoration and disguise anyway. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you close to his body. His arms almost lifted you off the ground and he cradled your head in one hand while his left arm curled around your waist and squeezed you so tight you gave a little wheeze.

His voice came from nowhere in particular, just like it did when he had the helmet on, and he said, “You are family. And I love you. If I have to leave this one to be with you, I will.”

Your heart stopped for a moment before you hugged him back, desperately. “Don’t. Not for me.”

He only hugged you harder.

From somewhere off to your left, Hank gave a low, rumbling growl and then muttered, “Kids. Honestly.” Then a little louder, he said, “Demon, go and cool off somewhere. Țepeș, for God’s sake, stand down, and Pickle, go and put the fucking kettle on. I need a cup of tea with half a bottle of whisky in it after all this drama.”

Pumpkin drew back at last, and you looked up at the haze of blue-green smoke that seemed to swirl upwards in a constant stream, like a recently extinguished candle. “How can you see me?” you asked. And then, with a little more alarm in your tone, you yelped, “Wait, how can you see where you’re driving?”

He laughed and leaned in close enough that the aurora-light swirled across your vision and caressed your face with a feather light breath, and you shivered. “Magic,” he whispered.

Demon hadn’t gone anywhere, and was regarding you with a more level gaze. His eyes were still red though. “You knew?” he said. “All this time?”

“Yeah,” you croaked as you refocused your eyes from the magic of the Dullahan’s body to Demon’s very much corporeal body. “I mean, I suspected.”

He sighed, still staring you down. Pumpkin stepped a little in front of you, much as Țepeș had for Adi, but Demon shook his head. He worked his jaw for a second and then slowly held out his right hand. His skin was red instead of the golden tan it had been, and his nails were black and claw-like, but the gesture was one of reconciliation all the same. “Welcome to the family, I guess,” he muttered hoarsely.

You smiled faintly, and Pumpkin took your left hand in a show of solidarity, sliding his gloved fingers around yours while you briefly shook Demon’s hand. “I really didn’t know what you guys were when you said I could come and hang out with you, I swear.”

“I know,” Demon bit out. “I can taste a lie, and you’re telling the truth.”

With that, he stalked away and carefully slotted his helmet on over his horns. You realised that there were specially-tailored holes in the crown of it for the horns to fit through, but when it was on, some kind of glamour made it look like the horns were just attached to the surface of the helmet. Outside, he swung a leg over his Ducati and started it up, revving it and launching away amid a scream of tyres and over-worked engine.

“Give him time,” Pumpkin said as he looked down at you. In the swirl of the smoke at his neck you thought you could make out the features of a face for a moment, but you blinked and it vanished. “You’re family now though, so he won’t give you any more trouble.”

“He did just insult Adi pretty spectacularly,” you pointed out.

“And he’ll apologise to her,” Pumpkin said. Țepeș loomed threateningly beside Adi in silent agreement. “For now, you want to come for a ride with just me? Come back to my place maybe?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Bet you have questions too…”

“You going to fact-check my novel for me?” you asked with a playful smile, and Pumpkin laughed. It felt right to hear his loud, giggly laughter filling the space again.

“You’d actually have to let me read it for that, love, and you said you didn’t like showing your work to anyone until it was done.”

“I could make an exception for you, I guess,” you admitted with a bashful smile.

With Pumpkin still holding your hand, you paused on your way out to check on Adi, who looked a little hurt but otherwise alright, and you promised to check in with her later. Țepeș handed Pumpkin his helmet, and you let yourself be led from the shop. Your helmet was still in your slightly numb fingers, never having put it down, so you slid it back on with shaky hands.

After climbing with familiar ease back up onto the pillion seat of Pumpkin’s orange KTM, you snaked your arms around his middle and squeezed.

“I’m sorry it all came out this way,” Pumpkin said before he started up his bike. “This was not how I planned to tell you. I had no idea how I was going to break it to you, but that… that wasn’t it. I know you hate surprises, and that was a big one.”

“Not all surprises are bad,” you admitted. “And this one turned out ok in the end. Come on. I want to find out how much I’ve got wrong about the Fae.”

Pumpkin guffawed, his laughter audible even after he’d started up his bike and pulled away.

Turns out, you’d quite a lot wrong about the Fae after all, but Pumpkin was only too happy to put you right over pizza and a movie on his sofa that evening.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one. If you did, please consider reblogging to show your support as well as leaving a like and/or a comment.

Do you want to see the other members of the group? Remember you can find out more about them here in this early post if you're curious. Tepes already has a love interest, and Ninja the mimic is claimed too, but if you're curious, lemme know!

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#supernatural biker group #dullahan #male dullahan #dullahan x reader #reader insert #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster biker #fantasy biker #biker dullahan #demon #vampire #werewolf

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the-100-days-of-junkan · 3 months ago

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Day 50

Wow. fuck it’s weird to think we’re halfway there. 50 fucking days of Junkan . . . How’s everyone holding up?? I’m still writing these in advance so I have no idea if Future Jem is holding it together having to wait day by day for these, especially as we enter the period of the project where a lot of our favorite pieces come in.

So anyway “No Regrets” There’s the fic again for if you haven’t read it and are interested.

There is a LOT to talk about with this one. So much that I’ll likely put this in a read under once again. I’ve got history, fun facts, scrapped(?) ideas, and memes.

Let’s start with my history with writing in general. Because the biggest thing that comes to mind with this fic is that it was the first time in Four Years that I had ever written something.

When I was, say, around 15 or 16, I entered the Death Battle Community on Deviantart (I swear to god this is relevant and I won’t take too long). It did a lot of things for me, it gave me a source of income when I was confident enough to open commissions, it helped me make a small amount of close friends (eventually leading to even closer friends), is the community that introduced me to Danganronpa in the first place, and it’s where I first started writing.

Now obviously, what I was writing were fights between fictional characters, most often to the death. With some attempt at a logical outcome for the match. And the account is so old and untouched that it still has he/him pronouns baked into it. I still have a lot of pride in some of the work I did on that account despite the equal amounts of dumb bullshit, grammar issues, and a severe lack of proofreading.

But shock of all shocks, Rocky Balboa fighting an Anime Character (yes that’s really the last thing I published online, it was like 40,000 fucking words and it made someone cry allegedly), is a far cry from a fic about Junko Enoshima really wanting to swap spit with Mikan Tsumiki.

Suffice to say, I was very, very nervous about writing again. However I’m a woman with too many ideas, and not every idea can be done through just drawings alone. Especially with how I was doing things at this point. This wasn’t the first time I had desired to try writing fanfic, I still have a RWBY x Kamen Rider W fanfic haunting my brain to this day. But it was the first time I had felt so tempted. However as you might have gleamed over time whether through these posts, or talking to me personally, I have a severe lack of self esteem, ESPECIALLY when it comes to writing. And it was even worse at the time of this fic. This was the biggest roadblock for the it.

However, Junkan broke me once, causing me to draw Angst shipping art for the first time. So it only makes sense that it would break me a second time, making me write a god damn fanfic. And I made plenty of memes about this too, which i’ll post in order of creation.

As you can tell by that last one I was fucking nervous as hell making this, which is understandable since it’s completely new territory for me in a medium i hadn’t touched in years. However, enough friends who also liked DR seem to be into it, so I was able to post it.

My AO3 account was of course originally a secret because at the time of this fic being made I was still deeply paranoid over anyone knowing I shipped Junkan. Now granted CJ is kind of an obvious alias given y’know, it’s just the initials of my fuckin main account. However it does require that someone on AO3 also have a Tumblr account and also be aware of a chick named “Carbonated-Jem” who at the time was drawing a suspicious amount of separate Junko and Mikan art.

Last thing before I talk about the actual fic. This was posted February 4th. Which fucks with me because I’m pretty certain that means that the first 50 Days of this project (reminder that most of the colored ones were after the fact) were made before that date. Half of this project was done in One Month at most. How the fuck did I do that????

Okay. So the fic.

The idea was simple at first, what if Mikan saved Junko from dying at the end of DR1. And then it spiraled from there.

This is not something I plan to talk about on this blog or anywhere but the privacy of my friend groups very often. But I am not a big fan of Danganronpa 3, I have very little nice to say about it, but my biggest issue with that Anime is it’s handling of Mikan. I do not like that Mikan was boiled down to just being whatever that was in the anime, since while I’ll never say that it was definitely a perfect relationship even with what we had teased in DR2, I think there’s a lot of nuance to the way Junko and Mikan described their relationship (moreso Mikan since last I remember at most Junko just made heavy implications that she broke each class member one by one with unknown methods). So seeing it be . . . that in the anime, just never sat right with me. If it were not for events that will be discussed later in the project, I would have been fully adverse to this ship as a result.

As you can see now I’m not only all for the ship, I’m dangerously brainrotted over it dsljfhsdlaf. How things changed.

Point is, regardless of whether you like DR3 and how it handled this dynamic (In which case, more power to you despite my lack of understanding), I had less than fond thoughts toward it. So you can kind of see this fic as also like, a way of me trying to do something more productive with that negativity rather than just wallowing on it.

I’m gonna be real until Mikan jumps in to save Junko I don’t feel very strongly about the intro. You can very much tell this was my first time writing in 4 years, and not just that but it was me writing Junko for the first time rather than drawing her, and to take it EVEN FURTHER this was at the time the closest I had ever gotten to depicting the canon versions of the characters rather than Non-Despair takes on the characters like I was for every pic before and after this. Which yeah spoiler, beyond I think 2 instances later (there MIGHT be more) everything in this project is non-despair in nature.

You can probably still look at a lot of the art as like, just them dating Pre-Tragedy I suppose? But that’s up to you and your suspension of Disbelief.

Tangent, sorry. Back to it where was I.

Oh yeah, so I don’t know when the hell the idea for the Neo-World Program being implemented came in. But when it did that’s when I had like a solid vision for where I was going.

I think originally Junko wasn’t going to enter the program alongside everyone else? But the more I thought about it, it was like the only sure way that she could get what she wanted in the end. Since if Mikan came back reformed, whether with partial memories or nothing at all it’s a hard sell to think Mikan would be willing to go back to Junko outside of the specific circumstances that brought them together in the first place (that said i can’t say the idea of Junko trying to win her back isn’t interesting). I’d find it more likely for a full reformed Mikan in this context to like, get with Hajime or Ibuki.

So I threw Junko into the program as well, despite my concernsI did actually have a lot of fun writing the interactions. Not just Mikan (we’ll get to her in a sec) but also with Makoto.

Writing Junko’s first moments in the program was my favorite part though, from what I remember at least. Especially once she starts giving Mikan her full attention. And that’s where we finally get to the art piece.

So here is the singular fun fact about the art. Junko had the bear clips originally, but I realized after the fact since the Neo-World program put the cast in their outfits prior to becoming Remnants, it’d make more sense to give her the bunny and bow clips instead. So I edited the art at some point to make that more clear.

Anyway here’s the interesting part. There was in fact a time where this was going to be a series.

The original intention was always a Oneshot, but you know how the mind tends to wander, it was inevitable that I’d be tempted to think about what else could happen in this timeline.

It would have mostly been a Slice of Life series, more rom-com elements. Focused on the developing relationship between Junko and Mikan, essentially kind of recreating how they first met and fell in love, albeit with less of the evil girlfriends stuff.

Another part of it is that because Junko’s plans are on a hard hiatus till she gets off the Island, and more specifically because of Mikan’s influence on her in these very specific circumstances, the NWP actually does start reforming Junko on some level. I’ve always loved the idea that Mikan could have the potential to help Junko become a better person, whether it’s a Non-Despair AU where that means she just stops being a bitch to everyone (or at least mostly stops), or in Canon where she ponders that maybe starting the apocalypse isn’t the best course of action.

I did plan to try and write the rest of the DR2 cast, which admittedly was a roadblock because I had no idea what the fuck I was gonna do for characters like Nekomaru for example. I’ve only really latched onto a small handful of the overall cast of DR, so i’m severely lacking in my ability to write most of them. I did plan for Junko and Chiaki to become besties though, I feel like under a normal context Junko would just think Chiaki was really funny.

So it would have mostly been romance and shenanigans, one way I thought of to just give random little plotlines for Mikan and Junko was the MonoMono machine. Have Junko just get a bunch of coins and gamble away at the thing getting random items. And then said items just make the plot for the chapter.

That idea is what made me think of the other half of this fics equation.

So you know how there’s a fucking painting of Junko made during the Tragedy??

First off, missed opportunity to have that be a “Love” item for Mikan, would have been great foreshadowing.

Second off, actual point. I was like “how the fuck is junko gonna react if she sees this??” So I realized that while I wanted to have this overall fic have a lot of fluff and shenanigans and Junko kissing Mikan. There is in fact the elephant in the room of what’s outside of the program.

So, why not have Junko by some means start remembering reality, and realizing everything she’s been responsible for. Most importantly, killing her sister and killing Chiaki (yeah I would have kept Chiaki being a real person and not just an AI, partially just cause I think that’d hurt Junko more), and then having to cope with all of that because by that point Mikan would have unintentionally helped to make Junko a less apocalypse hungry person.

And beyond that I don’t think I had any plans to show like, the aftermath of the program working. Partially because I feel like that’s reaching a level of writing I’m not mentally strong enough to pull off properly, partially because I think keeping it vague similar to how DR2 did it would have worked.

Now all that said, on some level I would try to like writing that story. There’s just a lot of hurdles I’d have to get past first. Not just my normal “Writing makes me want to slam my head into the wall” issue, but also stuff like-

How do I write the other characters when I have very little experience with them?

I actually have to make a plan for this one, I can’t just wing it like I did for the Vampire AU.

I have to write the Canon version of Junko for a big stretch of it and as I already established I barely grasp how the fuck to do that.

I just have other things I want to do which includes other writing.

So if you’ve made it this far into my inane ramblings, would YOU dear audience like to see this fic? I can’t say for sure how soon it would be assuming the response is positive, but I wouldn’t be opposed to making the attempt if there’s even mild interest for it.

Anyway, thankyou for your time! Hopefully will be awhile before I yap this long again.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

#danganronpa #junkan #junko enoshima #mikan tsumiki #enomiki #junkomikan #junko x mikan #enoshima junko #tsumiki mikan #shipping #fanfic #fanfiction #AU

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anime-grimmy-art · 1 year ago

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It’s this time of the year again, folks. Time to wrap up the art Ive made in the last 12 months in another Year in Review! I’ve noticed that this is my fifth Year in Review in a row, so I’ll be making an extra post looking back on the progress in those last 5 years!

I've got a lot to say about this year, but purely art wise, I've gone all when it comes to comics, damn! I've kinda found a format that is messy, and therefore more time efficient, yet still looks good. I even made 2 animatics and lotsa shorts/reels! All that on top of opening coms twice, and, oh yeah, MAKING A WHOLE ASS 4MIN ANIMATION ON MY OWN.

How is my hand still alive.

2023 has been….interesting, to say the least. The first half year I was working on my thesis project, aka making an animated short all on my own (in the art department), which makes it honestly surprising how much I managed to churn out between animating. Trigun rly did have me in a choke hold.

Summer was a bit more spotty, esp. with me not being able to draw anything during August as I was writing my thesis (and doing commissions). And towards the end of the year, Kingdom Hearts tried to save me, but alas, Genshin Impact has finally sunk its teeth into me and dragged me to the bottom of the rabbit hole. It all started with me watching a story summary and lore videos while I was sick after my thesis and I was too intrigued to not dig deeper and well, first I fell in love with Kaeya and then the ships started dropping in left and right.

I’m not gonna lie, the last few months have been weird. I finished my masters in October, and have been on job hunt since, sadly without success so far. I’m existing in this weird limbo of still not grasping I’m not a student anymore after 18 years in education, not really being able to accept I’m an adult, yet desperately trying to find something so I can make a routine, cos rn Im too scared to build a rhythm as I know I’ll have a so much harder time readjusting again. It’s left me in a weird emotional state, where most of the time I feel fine, but when it counts, there’s just, nothing. No joy at getting my diploma, no anticipation to finally go to a convention again, neither any sadness hearing my grandfather died. It frustrates me that it extends to my art as well, there’s excitement over ideas and concepts, but no motivation to pick up the pencil, which makes me either not finish art at all or making so many shortcuts and just ending up with sth not satisfactory to me since it’s not the idea I sought after.

Tho, not everything is doom and gloom. I DID finish a whole ass short animation and got my masters degree, that IS sth to be proud of. Also, while Im struggling at drawing, I’ve also kinda started integrating my shortcuts into my style and some stuff I’ve thrown together actually turns out real good nowadays. Also, and this might be a bit of a weird one, I’m so fucking happy to know I can still enjoy gay ships. I’ve been a bit uncertain over the last few years because when I was around 16-18, I had a real big yaoi phase, which mostly came from the fact so much stuff came out that tickled my brain in the right way (Free, Haikyuu, etc.). But over the years, my enthusiasm died down, and I even started to resent some ships because it’s all some fandoms produced. I often found myself liking a hetero ship more than the popular gay ship, which really made me not wanna stick around because I did not care for most fanart and you can only go through a tag with art you don’t care about so long before you lose interest. I think in retrospect that it rly had nothing to do with the ships being gay ships but rather cos the fans just shoved it in your face when you didn’t care (and shipping culture nowadays also can get real scary). But I’m so happy to see I can still get obsessed with a ship and it’s all thanks to Haikaveh/Kavetham. It really just needed the right flavour for me to dig in again. And oh my god, I FINALLY like a ship with a SHIT TON of art and fanfictions, no more scrounging the crumbs from the bottom of the barrel.

Anyways, enough lamenting. Here’s to hoping I can bite my tongue and get shit started properly in 2024, and that my brainrots may make me obsessed enough to churn out an obscene amount of fanart again.

#art year in review #anime-grimmy #fanart #sketch #comic #animatic #undertale #trigun #legend of zelda #monster hunter #kingdom hearts #undead unluck #genshin impact

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dinodogs · 6 months ago

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Well

I’m sorry for not being around too much anymore. I’ve been in the worst state of my entire life these past months. I’ve contemplated suicide a few times. But thats not where this is going, I promise.

Truth be told, my mental state has been on a steady decline since May. But this last month has truly been the worst of my entire life, I lost my apartment, had to live in my car in 102 degree weather for a while, and then move back into an abusive household where I am constantly deadnamed and misgendered. I lost my partner because I wasn’t in a mental state to keep up a relationship. I lost most of my belongings. I lost a lot of my friends. And I’ve lost my ability to draw.

Along with all this I’ve had the worst carpal tunnel flare up of my entire life, its so agonizing I can’t even put it into words. I don’t have the funds to see a doctor and even if I did I doubt I’d have funds for treatment. Between this and my mental state tanking, I can’t call myself an artist anymore. I’m sorry

I’ve tried my best to respond to messages, and I’ve refunded people who needed it with some help from my best friend. But I’m sorry, any commissions will not be completed. I tried to power through it all, I really did, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep acting like I’m fine and trying to make things work.

I’m sorry to everyone who relied on me, I’m sorry to everyone who enjoyed my content, and I’m sorry to anyone who might’ve looked up on me. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, I can barely get out of bed, I can barely feed myself or shower or do anything to take care of myself.

I’m really thankful to everyone I’ve met along the way, thank you all for the support and the love I’ve been shown. If anyone needs to contact me, please do so through @grimmgrinningghouls .He’s the last life line I have left and my best friend in the whole world, he can relay anything to me.

And with that, this is goodbye. I really hope this isn’t goodbye permanently, I hope I can come back one day and keep drawing dragons and whiterose and posting about rwby. But until then, its been wonderful, and I’ll see you all another day.

I'll try and queue this to reblog a few times so anyone who needs to see this will, but other then that, this account is effectively dead.

#personal

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solaneceae · 1 year ago

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float like a feather, sting like sharp talons

Philza drops by Étoiles' brand new dojo for a friendly sparring session, and ends up getting quite a lot more. Namely existential dread, the thrill of a good hunt, and the comfort of shared trust. @apthotiosis this is a commissioned fic! read on ao3

He whistles, eyes lingering along the thick, wooden support beams and rice paper walls surrounding him. It’s a surprising sight, tucked away in a corner of what he can only describe as a mess of a base, mostly empty, the walls still a rough (and frankly ugly) mix of dirt and cobblestone that hasn’t been cleared out even after six months. “So. That is your dojo.”

Étoiles nods at his side, a big stupid grin on his face. “Do you like it, Phil?” he asks, eager as a pup as little Pomme zooms around the cave in an improv game of tag with Tallulah — ever mindful of how her lag (sorry, asthma) sometimes stalls her in her tracks. He glances at them fondly, silly, eggs, babies. “I do,” he hums, because it is pretty. Especially if you ignore the rest of the cave outside because God, it’s fugly as shit and Étoiles knows it. The plant hybrid smiles, all teeth and gums, and squints with star-filled eyes that always seem to glow despite not working like they used to. Phil still doesn’t get why what was originally a completely harmless veggie plant has evolved to bear such predatory teeth, but he can’t say it doesn’t suit his friend. “He likes it! Let’s gooo, big win for me, big win. I can die happy now.”

“Oh my god, stop. Kristin’s married, you know.”

Étoiles gives him a mock-shove that is more of a real one, because Étoiles never holds back, especially not with Phil. “Oh! Oh, so I can’t be nice to Lady Death? I can’t just visit her because she’s cool and she likes me also? I am married to the grind, Phil, you know me!”

Phil shakes his head, exasperated and fond. “You’re a nerd is what you are. Did you know she calls you her tech support?” Étoiles makes a confused noise. Tallulah peeps in the background, mimicked by Pomme, a chorus of play and yesyes, because all the eggs have picked up on that one by now. (Mimicry is a powerful thing, and the eggs are highly social creatures who thrive on it.)

Phil elaborates, circling the build to assess its structure better. “Because of the sweeping edge bug thing, and Richas’ cancelled death last week. You find the kinks and loopholes in death mechanics better than anyone she knows.”

Étoile beams at that. “That’s so cool. I’m Death tech support!”

“You certainly are. Do you think it’s because you picked Death? In the entity rooms?”

The green-skinned man shrugs, then gasps and takes off running after Pomme to stop her from setting up waterframes everywhere to display obscure anime edits for Tallulah because her internet, her lag Pomme, you’re going to make her void! Phil glances at them (safe, no danger, good) then back at the dojo, running his palm down a beam to feel its grain. It’s smooth, recently stripped of its bark. “Huh,” he says.

He doesn’t understand why his friend chose to build this underground when dojos are usually suited for wind-swept plains or mysterious forests. Then again, Étoiles has never been much for coherent aesthetics. That, and he probably thought it would be more mysterious to hide it under the ground, knowing him. “It’s. Well, very dojo-like,” he walks through dark support beams and onto clean, recently-oiled planks, coming to poke at one of the wooden sticks idly rotating above an altar to send it spinning in the opposite direction. Étoiles trots back to him with an egg under each arm (Play, dad, Pomme warbles. Play, silly, Tallulah beeps from within her cracked shell.) and lets out a guttural noise, visibly bothered by the sticks being out of sync, and it makes Phil snort. Silly. Silly. “Did you build it all by yourself?”

“Yeeaaaah.”

“You’re lying.”

A dramatic gasp. The warrior puts both eggs down to throw his hands in the air. “I’m not lying! Pomme, ma légende, dis-lui.”

Bomp. [me and richas did it. papa helped, very much :DDD]

Étoiles comes to brush his fingers against the red sign, letting the device tucked into his ear translate the written words into spoken ones. He whines, puts a hand over his heart as his ears droop. “Ahhh, trahison. Disgrâce. Tu m’détestes en fait Pomme, c’est ça ? You want me to dig down to bedrock and die forever? Or it’s because I can’t see, so you think I’m shit?”

Bomp. [papa…] Bomp. [t’a pas besoin d’être aveugle pour avoir des goûts douteux en déco :X]

“Okay, okay. I go die in fire then, goodnight.” Then Étoiles pours lava into the cobble floor and stands in it with a huge smile. His body catches on fire immediately, skin quickly shrivelling up and blackening under the heat. Pomme peeps at him loudly and hits him with her scythe, then douses him in water and healing potions — which immediately prompts Étoiles into sparring mode, laughing and hyping his egg up with a string of ‘oh she knows, she knows the play’ and ‘strafing, comboing, keep at it’ as his body heals up. Philza watches the display for a few seconds before getting bored, choosing to walk past the layer of light wood circling the dojo to take a look inside.

It’s even prettier than the outside, with all the paper lanterns and little fountains and bamboo shoots. His geta clack against the wood, then go silent on the woven straw flooring at the center. “Why’re all the posters in Japanese?” he remarks when his friend comes back from his little mock-tantrum with his daughter in tow, squinting at a crude montage explaining the belts system. Philza can gather that it’s based on how much HP the dojo master has left after a duel, because Étoiles has been yapping about making a dojo with that exact system for months now. (Is that a jar of mayo at the top? The hell?) Guess the eggs returning has been the push in motivation he needed to actually commit to that build, despite his insistence that he is very much a builder now, thank you very much, look at all the wool I have.

Étoiles perks up, grins in a way that lets Phil know he’s about to do a bit. “Oh, you don’t know? You don’t know that I’m literally Japanese, Philza?” he chirps, picking up one of the sticks on display before running circles around the other man, poking at his legs playfully. His boots are off, Phil notices. “Speaking of! Shoes off Phil, come on, come on!”

“You literally told me you grew in a field, mate,” Phil laughs, airy and wheezy and light as he evades the attacks. “The little legume who could! In rural France! Where does Japan come into play here?”

“Aaaah, Philza, Philza,” the warrior shakes his head, hitting the other on the shoulder to push him back out and onto the cold cobble floor. “Shoes off I said, it’s a rule. I don’t want shit on my tatami, I already had to clean it up sooo many times with the whole server fucking around in it yesterday. And Japan lives in my warrior’s soul. It’s all that matters.”

“F’course it does,” Phil complies regardless, shimming out of his geta before walking to the little shoe rack in the corner to tuck them inside. “There. Happy?”

“Very. Also, trivia time, culture time: did you know that cucumbers aren’t legumes? They are fruits, Phil! And vegetables don’t actually exist, they’re all either fruits or roots or leaves or flowers...”

Phil stares at him. “...You don’t get to stand there and tell me my avocados are fruits, Étoiles. What the fuck.”

“Umm, they are berries, actually—”

“Oh fuck off and come kill me already.”

“With pleasure, my bro.”

Armors come off next, quickly magicked back into inventories. Phil walks up to the altars to pick up his own stick (unenchanted, as plain as it gets) and spots Étoiles off to the side, rolling up his sleeve to check on his insulin levels before rolling it back down. “We eat one gapple each, yes? My sugar is low,” he explains as they both get into position on both ends of the tatami.

“Sounds good. You got yours?”

Étoiles laughs, summoning a golden fruit from his inventory and spinning it over his finger like the insufferable showoff he is. “Always. Autofeed off Phil, no cheating.”

“Alright, you little shit,” Phil summons his own gapple and bites into it with purpose, feeling the warm tingle of magic-saturation in his stomach as the rest of the apple vanishes into thin air with a few golden sparkles. He turns to the eggs, settled on top of diamond blocks they’ve just placed. “Tallulah, do a countdown for us please?”

Signs are placed, one by one, as Pomme hypes them up with Megalovania, perfectly timed with the Pigstep now blasting out of a music box. Bomp, three. Bomp, two. Bomp, one…

Bomp. [GO PAPA PHIL :D]

Étoiles shoots off towards him as soon as the letters show up on the wood, jumping up and swinging his stick down for a crit. Phil dashes to the side, the blow just grazing his shoulder. “Nice cock, Phil!” Étoiles gasps, all sharp teeth and waggling eyebrows, and it takes the avian back enough for the other to get a few hits in. “Motherfucker!” Phil laughs, breaking the combo and pushing the cucumber back with a few crits of his own, adrenaline starting to flood his brain and paint the world in sharp edges and colors. “You little shit! Stop doing that!”

“Do what, Philza? I’m just bantering, just chilling.”

Étoiles’ combat style hasn’t changed despite the blindness, Phil finds — he’s insanely precise and quick on his feet, which is a problem. He decides he won’t be able to outrun or out-speed him, so he elects to block most of his strikes with his own stick instead, relying more on instinct than observation. “He’s blocking, he’s blocking,” the warrior’s voice chants through the flurry of swings and the clack of wood against wood. “Strafing, strafing, he’s the best, he’s the GOAT. Hit me, Phil! Don’t just defend, hit me!”

And dammit, Phil tries pretty hard — but Étoiles is insane and he’s just a little too fast even without speedbridging, just a little too smart with his feints. Phil goes down after two minutes, the last hit clocking him across the temple and sending him to the (thankfully a little soft) floor, ears ringing and white stars dancing across his darkening vision. He wonders if it’s a little like how Étoiles sees the world now. Probably not. “Four hearts, Phil,” Étoiles announces, laying his hands on Phil’s side — the pain fades, the world comes back into focus, and his brain rattles with the doom-doom of revival. He hears fireworks going off, probably Pomme’s. “That’s good, very good. That’s a brown belt! I think you can kill me soon, easy. Again?” the cucumber chirps, offering his hand, and Phil thinks that if Étoiles had his tail it would probably be wagging right now.

He groans in agreement, grasps his friend’s hand and is pulled back on his feet. “Yes. Again.”

Round two goes similarly. “Again.” So does round three. “One more.” After his fourth consequential victory, Étoiles looks pensive, and Phil is getting a tad frustrated — he’s muted his comm for this, as he often does, but he can usher a guess at what Global chat looks like, spammed with his half-death messages and maybe a brief bout of concern from whoever else is online at the moment. “Fuck, man,” he rubs at his neck where a particularly vicious strike has left the skin an angry red, molted with purple. He’ll feel that in the morning, if he doesn’t get a respawn. “I don’t think I can do it. No black belt for me.”

“No, no, you can,” Étoiles insists, circling him — dull, greyed out eyes scanning for something. “I think…”

“Looking for something, king? How’s nebula-me looking?”

“Like the GOAT, you know that. But since you ask, you’re more blue today. With some red.”

“Cool. Wish I could see like you do, for a day.”

“You don’t. It’s pretty, but annoying. It’s harder to make out details inside the, ah…” he mumbles something in barely-legible French. “Je sais pas comment on dit. Les contours. The lines at the limits of a drawing.”

“Outlines?”

“Yes. I see the outlines well, but everything inside is messy. To me everything is just, shapes. And the bigger a thing is, the harder it is for me to understand it. Eggs are easy, because they are small and simple. People are harder.” He waves towards Phil. “Like, I can’t know if you’re smiling or frowning, I have to listen to how your voice sounds.”

“Huh. That’s interesting.”

Étoiles hums, stops at his side. Cocks his head like an attentive dog. “Ah. You should take your backpack off, Phil. It’s slowing you down.”

Oh. Philza shifts, hesitant. “I wear it all the time, it doesn’t nerf me that much.”

“No, I think it can make a difference. Let’s try it?”

Mh. He hadn’t planned on doing this today. Showing his kids had felt right, natural. Showing Fit had required a few deep breaths, but not much else. Étoiles… is a trickier case.

He does want to show him — the french warrior is one of his most trusted friends, and someone he knows he can rely on in a pinch. The guy is loyal to a fault, always looking at Phil like all it would take for him to lay down his life before him was a single word. It’s a bit scary, in a way, and always makes his hindbrain buzz pleasantly. But Phil held things like mutual trust in high regard, and Étoiles had broken that on the first day of Purgatory.

They had talked since then, and it’s clear to Phil now that it had been an honest mistake, a temporary lapse in judgement. Plus, it’s not as if Phil hadn’t lost his own mind within the first twenty-four hours in that red hellscape. Still, even though he has forgiven Étoiles, the cracks don’t feel completely healed just yet. “I don’t know, mate,” he pulls at one of the straps of his backpack self-consciously, feeling its weight pressing his wings tightly against his back. “I can’t get you under four hearts, I doubt taking it off will give me that much more.”

“Phil. Phiiiiil. Trust me?”

Tall order, Phil almost jokes, but refrains. “I do trust you.”

“Then trust what I’m saying. I know my shit, you’re being slowed down, you can’t spin as fast or jump as high with this thing, it’s basic physics. I want you to have all the chance on your side.”

Philza purses his lips, glances to where Tallulah sits off to the side. She jumps to her little feet and places down a sign, while Pomme rummages through her backpack next to her. He can’t help but coo when the bright ‘<3’ shows up in stark white against the magenta wood. “Right. Okay.”

Étoiles can’t see, not normally. So maybe he won’t be able to make them out, bound tightly against his back as they are. And if he does, then that is fine. No need to make a fuss of it. So Philza walks up to Tallulah and drops the black pack next to her, giving her a little headpat in passing. “Watch over that for me, okay?” he smiles at her, and she peeps at him with purpose, jumping on top of it and doing the egg equivalent of puffing up her chest. Pomme is in her own red backpack now, little legs kicking the air as she reaches as deep as she can. silly, egg, baby, egg, he croons. “I’ll be right back. Got a green ass to kick.”

“He is back,” Étoiles whoops when he steps onto the tatami. “Oh, he is ready, so ready. Are you full hearts?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We go on three, one, two, th—”

Phil takes off at the first syllable, and oh, yeah, the lack of weight on his back means he can lean forward more without gravity winning, and that means he reaches Étoiles right as he reaches the end of his three. He thrusts his stick forward, the blunt tip digging itself right into the other’s abdomen with enough force to make him stumble back, winded and sputtering. “Argh—”

Phil doesn’t let him recover, getting a few good hits in before his opponent parries and attempts an upward swing that he barely evades by sending his body backwards, dangerously far. The weapon grazes his chin, and his wings try to open to regain balance but they’re still bound against him. “Shit—” he steps back quickly, arms pinwheeling, and it looks a little silly but it works, and he does not crash onto his back like an idiot.

Étoiles stares at him from the other side, breathing hard, eyes wide, a palm against his diaphragm. Then he smiles. “Oh. Ohohooo. Okay, now we’re talking. Let’s go.”

Moving more freely doesn’t make the fight easier, not by a long shot, because Étoiles adapts quickly — but it does make it more fun, and that’s already an improvement in Phil’s eyes. He gets less crits in, because jumping up leaves him too exposed to revenge strikes, but he gets more light hits in between sidesteps and mad dashes. “He is so fast!” Étoiles cheers, ducking to dodge a vicious strike to the head. “Oh, he is so good, go Phil go!”

Run, dodge, strike, strafe, dash. Every muscle in Phil’s body strains to keep up as he pushes it past its limits, arm aching from the repeated shocks against the stick, but he barely feels it thanks to the adrenaline flooding his system. A hit to the back of his knee makes him stumble, but he recovers into a roll and trips Étoiles with his stick in retaliation. The cucumber groans, scrambles to get up, and Phil sees an opening right there on his foes’ unprotected throat. He zeroes in on it, takes the first step, raises his weapon and—

There’s a jagged shape in his peripheral vision.

He falters. Tries not to look at it, tries to keep his eyes on target, target that’s about to get back up, quick, quick, do it.

There’s a purple shape in his peripheral vision.

He fails. Sharp angles and eerie glow, that shade he’s come to dread. The amethyst crystals hum out their ethereal song, taunting him. He doesn’t see Étoiles anymore, and his world is drowning in high-pitched static.

Purple. Purple everywhere. The room is too dark, too dark, darker yet darker.

Time slows down. No. The edges of his vision are fraying, dark tendrils creeping in. He feels himself falter, adrenaline making way for cortisol and making his hindbrain, no, fly, fly, run, nonono. He’s losing his footing, his grip around the stick growing slack, palms getting clammy. No, no, not now, please. His breathing picks up, faster than it’s been at any point of this duel. The amethysts glow an eerie violet, jagged shapes growing out of the thick, wooden beams around him, and he swears the room has gotten even darker. “Tallu—” He doesn’t make it to the end of the name, because then something smacks him in the back with unrestrained force.

Right on his left ulnare, the wingbone left exposed with no fat or muscle to cushion the blow.

Pain explodes throughout his left wing, the shock propagating all the way into his back and making him yell out, a gasp-screech that is very not human. Tallulah peeps loudly somewhere at the edge of his awareness, papa, no, bad! as he falls to his hands and knees, panic spiking, bad, bad, hurts, getoutgetout—

“Oh merde! Phil, ça va ?” He hears glass breaking, smells melon and gunpowder and something both earthy and spicy — Nether wart. Étoiles is healing him, putting a stop to their duel, and the realisation drags him out of that weird fugue state. “You never made that sound before, I think it’s bad. Are you okay?”

“Amethyst,” the older man growls between clenched teeth, letting the potion effects refill his health bar — fuck. Pain signals were always limited during PvP, but this had somehow broken through the server’s capping function. Étoiles makes a noise of incomprehension, his hands just hovering over Phil’s shoulder, not quite touching. “What?” he says, and Phil hears the patter of little feet rapidly coming closer. Pomme and Lullah.

“Please, just... Can you see the amethyst?”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking, of course his friend can’t see it, because that shit isn’t real. Or at least not to anyone but him. Through the haze he can feel Tallulah’s warm shell bump against his arm, hear her little worried chitters. He doesn’t trust himself to tell her he’s fine.

But then, Étoiles raises an eyebrow and turns his head towards the wall, blinks. A frustrated noise. “Euuuh Pomme, je t’adore hein, mais ça va pas trop avec le reste en fait. Tu peux les retirer steuplait ?” Pomme crouches, one-two, then summons a pickaxe and walks towards the crystals, and proceeds to casually break all of them.

Oh. Her backpack, all her rummaging. She’d been trying to decorate the dojo while they were busy sparring.

Philza lets out an uneven breath, runs a hand through his hair — his forehead is damp with cold sweat, and it sucks. Okay. Okay. Real, then. Just a really, really bad coincidence. Bad timing. Bad everything. He lets out a breath, the tight coil in his chest slowly loosening. “I’m sorry Pomme,” he gives the little egg a smile that he hopes to the Gods isn’t shaky. “Got distracted by the shiny, you know how it goes. Crow brain go brrrrr.”

Pomme falls dramatically on the floor at that, places a red sign that reads [sorry ;_;] “You’re good, you’re good, don’t worry.” Tallulah places a flower next to Pomme, bomp, [RIP manzanita]. Phil chuckles at their antics, heartbeat slowing down to a more normal pace. Jesus Christ. “You like shiny things, Phil?” Étoiles asks. “Did not know that.” He looks around, scans the dojo for any stray shine. “Mmmh. All good, I think. Sorry about Pomme, she likes amethyst stuff.” Then, quieter, “I think it reminds her of Baghera. She has an amethyst farm in her castle.”

Oh. Phil glances at Pomme, who thankfully seems fully absorbed in a sign-based conversation with Tallulah. “That makes sense. She must miss her a lot.”

(Dad, are you proud of me? I just killed a silverfish.)

“Can I see your wings, Phil?”

And, there it is. The other shoe. Phil lets out a heavy sigh, wincing when the movement makes his joint twinge in lingering pain — he’s pretty sure nothing’s actually broken or sprained, at least not any worse than before, but it still hurts. “So you saw them.”

“No no, I can’t. But I know they are there, somewhere. I’m sorry I hit them, I can’t tell where they are if you don’t have them out. Told you it was annoying.”

Ah. That makes more sense. He doubts Étoiles would voluntarily target them. Still… “How do you know about them? And, why?

“Philza, you need to understand something. And the thing is, I’m really dumb. I want to see them because maybe I can help, if I hurt them. I fix.”

“No you’re not, stop that. And you didn’t do any permanent damage, you’re fine.”

“No, wait. I’m stupid with lore, but I have eyes and ears. Jaiden showed she had wings, pretty sure Baghera has some but she hides them, I assumed you were the same.” Ah. Fair enough. Phil hasn’t been as subtle lately, and the crow jokes could only go for so long before people started to pick up on how literal they were. “Also, Kristin told me.”

Wait, what. “Wait, what?”

“Ye ye. First day of Purgatory, I died a lot. She said she wanted to exchange fofoca, so I told her about things, and she told me about you because she likes me. Did you know, I asked her if I could get wings too? It made her laugh. I guess tech support is not a high enough position to get flying benefits, sad times for me.”

Mother fucker. It’s hard to be upset when everything that spews out of Étoiles’ chattermouth is so consistently funny. “Well. I would’ve told you sooner than later, anyway. S’fine.”

“So you let me help.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll let you take a look, if that’ll make you feel better about it.”

“Let’s goooo, we got trust. Sit down please?”

Phil snorts and complies. He spots Tallulah running back towards him to climb onto his lap with a quiet warbe. good? Phil warbles back, good, yesyes, and rests his chin on top of his egg’s soft locks of hair. He hears Pomme hitting her dad behind him. “Ouais Pomme ?” Bomp, a short silence. “Badboy est là ? Ah ouaaais. Il veut encore t’exploiter pour ses boutons de l’enfer là ? POV, tu aides le fou du QSMP avec son escape game pour pas qu’il te tue.” More hits, Pomme’s little click-chirps. Étoiles laughs. “Okay, okay, t’inquiètes. Va l’aider, moi et Phil on va parler de trucs chiants de toute façon. Je te vois plus tard ?” The sound of a warpstone going off. “Saluuut.”

“Is Pomme leaving?”

“Yeah, she wants to build stuff with Badboy.”

“Oh god. Please tell me it’s not another find-the-button map.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna spend ten hours finding those fucking things again soon, let’s gooooo. So your wings, who else knows? I bet Fit knows. And your eggs.” Tallulah nods in Phil’s hold.

Étoiles’ lack of big reaction feels nice, but he supposes he should have expected it — the guy never makes a big deal out of anything. Except when it’s about banned materials. Or the Nether. And finding buttons, new trigger unlocked. “Add in pretty much everyone in the original Bolas, king,” he huffs as Étoiles settles behind him. His unseen presence makes a brief shiver of danger, danger go up Phil’s spine. It’s fine. It’s fine, he soothes himself, idly rubbing at the scar at the center of his chest through his robe. “I lost my shit with them around. Stopped caring as much. They saw them on day one.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Half the people on this shit island are like, creatures. Not humans. Nobody cares. I’m literally a fruit, Phil.”

Phil chokes on his own spit. “Jesus Christ, you have no idea how funny what you just said was.” Tallulah chirps and wiggles in his hold, places a sign. [*side-eyes u*] it says, and that’s somehow even funnier than if she had actual eyes to side-eye people with instead of the blank expanse of her brown-spotted shell.

Étoiles blinks. He cocks his head to the side, in that specific way he does whenever he’s listening to what he calls the ‘voices of the stars’. (Something akin to his crows, from what the older man has been able to gather.) “Oooh. Oh, is it a gay joke Phil? That doesn’t work man, we are on Gay Island, everyone is gay here, or they don’t date at all. And you are incorrect, because I am in the second group, héhé.”

“Didn’t Antoine call you his boyfriend once?”

“He calls me a lot of things.” Étoiles shrugs. ”He’s also an asshole and my DJ partner and my friend and I love him very much, but no, it’s not like that. And I am married to dark metal and dungeons anyway. Now I’m going to unbind your wings and move them around, okay?”

“Mh. Go for it, king.”

To his credit, Étoiles is methodic in his approach — unknotting the binds and carefully tracing the upper edges of his left wing while the other spreads out with difficulty, a few black feathers coming loose. Étoiles lets out a surprised oh, gently grabs the other to help it unfurl, and Phil feels him poking at the bottom of his regrowing primaries — right where the white ones, usually hidden beneath the outer layer unless he spreads them wide, grow in diamond-like spots. “I know this pattern, right there. You have Elytrian code too, Phil? I thought it was just crow.”

“Ah, so Kristin didn’t tell you everything then.”

“No. And she didn’t like, out you, you know. She only told me because she knew I knew, she only confirmed it. People with wings have like, a way they move? I can’t explain it, I just see it.”

“Body language expert Étoiles, ey? Have you known a lot of avians before?”

Étoiles stays quiet for a second. When he speaks again, he sounds perplexed. “Huh. I don’t know. I guess I knew Baghera? Memory stuff, it’s annoying.”

Phil frowns. Right. “You told me a little about your childhood, though. The village, the farmers?”

“Yeah, that’s a thing that came back quickly after the crash. But everything after that, I don’t remember.”

“Man, fuck this island. I’m sorry.”

Étoiles hums. His fingers start combing through his bottom feathers, lingering among the white ones. “I think. I think I went to the End before, Phil.” His voice has gone softer, airy, like he’s not quite anchored in the present. “I think… maybe, I’ve seen Elytrians before.”

“You have?”

“Mmh. I think I killed one. Yeah. And I took its elytra. It was a good fight.”

The revelation doesn’t shock him — Elytrian hunting is a common activity for those who reach the End, and elytras are a highly sought-after item in most worlds. (Philza would know.) “Were you a hunter? Before the island.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t like hunters.” And Phil can’t see Étoile’s face from his position on the floor, but his words are dripping with contempt. “Hunting for yourself is one thing. Making money off it, it feels wrong. And they don’t even fight, they make traps. I don’t like that. If you’re too shit at fighting to win fairly against something, you don’t deserve the loot. Bâtards de merde.”

And Phil laughs, because this he understands. “Ever the honorable warrior, aren’t you Étoiles.”

“Dude, I have so much honor. I told you, I’m literally Japanese.”

“Right.”

“And like I said, I am your arms. I am your sword, Philza Minecraft.”

Phil’s wings fluff up slightly, a croon of ownership-claim threatening to spill out of his chest. Mine. “Étoiles…”

“I am, it’s not a bad thing! Purgatory sucked. I didn’t like it. But it was better at the end, when you were telling me what to do. Who to kill for you.”

Phil croons, leaning back into Étoiles’ careful hands. “I see. You never called me dad though.”

“Fuck that!” Étoiles laughs, bark-like and airy. “That cult leader shit was weird. You’re Philza.” And there’s a quality to the way he says it, something that feels both casual and reverent. “First of his name, GOAT of PvP, Avoider of Lore, greatest man alive—”

“Woah there—”

“—husband and Angel of Lady Death, and father of dragon eggs. You’re not my dad. Why everyone has daddy issues on this shit island?”

Phil snorts. “I don’t know, mate. But I won’t judge. I think it’s fine if seeing me as a father figure brought them comfort. It was literally hell out there.”

Étoiles hums. “Maybe. Also, you didn’t answer my question.” Phil lets out a confused huh. “Earlier, when I asked why you were hiding that you had wings.”

…Shit. Curse Étoiles’ one-track mind, his deflection tactic had been foiled. “It’s not— shit like prejudice I was afraid of, Étoiles,” he admits, quiet and somber. The other man stops his ministrations, fingers dug deep in his primary coverts. “I know this island is a goddamn circus show. Mousey screams she’s a demon to whoever will listen and nobody gives two shits, I don’t know why Bad even bothers pretending he’s not. That’s not the problem. It’s just…” He sighs. ”The Federation has eyes everywhere, man. I feel like if I show them off too much, they’ll fuck them up again. Maybe even worse than last time.”

Étoiles is silent. His motions resume, slower, more careful and deliberate. “The first time, you say,” he eventually hums. There’s something dangerous in his voice. “So it’s because of them, that they are like this? Your wings.”

“Pretty much. Woke up on the train, boom, clipped. No more flying for me. I don’t know why they didn’t do the same to Jaiden, she said she didn’t want to fly, or didn’t know how? I can’t remember too well, but maybe that’s why. Less of a threat. Honestly, I’m just glad they didn’t do it to her. She’s family now.” Even though her loyalties are a point of concern, he couldn’t help it. She is Bolas, she is flock. And he had held her as she screamed out the temporary loss of her shiny blue wings, that first night in Purgatory. “No avian deserves that shit.”

“You don’t either, Phil.”

“I know that.”

“I’m just saying it because you have the voice! The one you use when you think bad things.”

A wry smile. “How dare you call yourself dumb, man. How fucking dare you.”

“It’s what I do! I kill things, I see people’s true souls, and I shit on myself.”

They stay quiet after that. Étoiles stretches out his wings, flexing the joints one at a time, muttering quick apologies when Phil hisses a little too loud. “Sorry, sorry.”

“You’re good. Keep going.” So he does, until Phil no longer feels the pins and needles of blood flooding back into his wings, until the joints no longer feel like rusted cogs. He even gets a little preening in, dislodging matted down and crooked secondaries, and it feels nice. Tallulah is dozing off in his hold, warm and safe. His egg, his baby, his hatchling. “Thanks mate,” Phil hums, a little out of it by the end, hindbrain thrumming pleasantly. Flock, good, yesyes. “You’ve done that before, I can tell.”

“If I have, I don’t remember. Okay, now stand— sorry Tallulah, were you sleeping? Sorry, your dad has to stand so we can see. Yes, nice. Now try them.”

Phil chitters quietly, furling and unfurling his wings experimentally — the constant pain is still there, but minimal, very bearable, and they do feel less stuffy. Lighter. “It actually does, yeah.” Tallulah does a little dance at his side, twirling and playing a few cheery notes on her flute. “Good job, seriously.”

“No probleeeem, Phil, my bro. Last round?”

This guy, I swear. “I’m a little tired,” Phil groans, cracking his neck as he stands, stretches his wings out as far as he can — it still aches, but feels miles better. “But okay. I’m going to put Tallulah to bed real quick, she’s eepy.” Tallulah nods in confirmation, takes out her warpstone right as her papa does. “Then let’s fight, one more time. After that I’m going home and conking the fuck out.”

Étoiles makes a sound that probably means something like ‘holy shit say less king’. “Okay!”

Five minutes later, and he’s warping back to Étoiles’ cave like a man on a mission. And in a way, he is. “Welcome back, worthy challenger,” the cucumber greets him, crossed-legged in the middle of the dojo, and Phil snorts because the music box is blasting Smash Bros music now. “You’re such a fucking nerd, oh my God.”

“It gives me strength, Phil. It’s my final form.” Étoiles gets up, stick already in hand, bouncing on his heels with anticipation. “Autofeed still off?”

“Yup. How’s your sugar?” Étoiles checks his monitor quickly, gives a thumbs up. “Good. No holding back?”

“I never hold back, Phil. Let’s go.”

There is no countdown this time — both opponents slip into quiet assessment, circling each other slowly, slowly. Étoiles does a strange head-tilt, ears flicking to track Phil’s footsteps, the sounds of feathers ruffling. Phil’s eyes do not stray from him, hardened and focused, picking up on the change in the air. Étoiles wants him to go all out. So he will. And he has a plan.

(The bigger a thing is, the harder it is for me to understand it.)

Time to put that to the test, then.

Étoiles charges first this time, quick-footed, swerving at random moments to keep himself a hard-to-track target. Phil almost bursts into incredulous laughter because holy shit, he’s Naruto-running, what the fuck— but manages to keep his focus, waiting until the very last moment to thrust his wings downward with enough force to send him soaring abovehis opponent. Then, right as his feet touch the tatami and right as Étoiles screeches to a stop to spin back towards him

he spreads his wings

wide, wider

casting huge shadows on the four walls of the dojo

and lets his powers roll off of him like a dark mist, sparking with magic and wither-decay.

(The bigger a thing is, the harder it is for me to understand it.)

It’s a gamble, a costly one that saps his Feds-capped magic like crazy — but it pays off, because Étoiles staggers back, confusion etched across his features. His head subtly snaps in all directions, like he doesn’t know where to look, his ears swivelling to try and pinpoint him. Bingo. Phil has made his nebula-self big, toobig for Étoiles, rendering the warrior effectively blind. Well, double-blind.

Phil doesn’t wait for the other to find a counter to this, curls his wings forward then snaps them back — they launch him forward at breakneck speed and create a gust of wind that makes the paper lanterns swing on their hooks, and then Phil is slamming into Étoiles like a literal hurricane.

The plant hybrid gasps, fingers slackening from the sheer strength of the impact — his weapon slips out of his grasp to clatter against the ground and roll out of bounds. His body describes a perfect curve and hits the wooden floor with a loud thud. He barely has the time to blink the dizziness away before something presses against the side of his neck, and he freezes completely. “Gotcha,” Phil preens, looming above him. The end of his stick is right against Étoiles’ pulse point, the threat crystal clear, and he’s a writhing mass of burning stars and cosmic fury.

The energy rolling off of him washes over Étoiles in waves, makes his skin tingle, and he recognizes it as withering. Withering coming from Philza himself, whose outlines are impossible to pinpoint, lost in the cloud of magic and giant Angel wings.

...Okay, this is sick as hell, Étoiles thinks, and he can feel somethingwithin him grow, a presence rejoicing in the back of his mind. Ink bleeds into his eyes, then under it, twin lines of darkness going down his cheeks and neck. (Flashes of a white spiral on a dark expanse, of whispers and stolen Time.) He feels cold, but he feels good about it, and he’s not scared at all — this is fine, more than fine. Withering is harmless for Death-touched things. Things like him and Phil. He laughs, loud and ecstatic, this is fun, so fun! “Aaah. Clever bird, clever Phil, I like. Okay.”

Then something wraps around Phil’s ankle and pulls it forward, breaking his balance and making him hit the ground ass-first with a startled caw. He grits his teeth, shoots a glare towards his leg to see—

—blinks at the sight of a green vine wrapped around his ankle. His eyes trace along its length. He’s seen this before, but only once, months ago. Right after harvesting a freshly-regrown Étoiles out of the ground, a week after his Code-related demise. “Oh,” Philza says, and Étoiles smirks in return.

His tail is long, as long as he is tall, and covered in large, healthy green leaves. It swishes against the tatami in a serpentine motion, the leaves rustling quietly, and Phil notices a half-star-shaped kink at the end of it. It’s... well, it’s pretty adorable actually, but something tells him Étoiles wouldn’t like that descriptor. “You kept it,” he says instead, fight-darkened eyes sparkling with something like kinship-euphoria. “You grew it out.”

“I did, I listened to you. I keep it wrapped around my waist, it works.”

“Told you it could come in handy.”

“You did. You’re always right about things, Philza.” Étoiles steps into a fighting stance, hands curled into fists, tail lashing left and right like a whip. Phil understands, lets out a quiet chuckle as he sends his own weapon flying out of the arena. So they’re doing it this way, huh. More than fine with him. “Nothing’s off the table then,” he hums, hands curling like claws at his sides, sharpening talons glinting ominously in the light of paper lanterns. His friend hums approvingly, and it’s all Phil needs to pounce.

They no longer try to evade, instead crashing into each other to cause as much damage as quickly as possible. Étoiles throws a jab, Phil retaliates with a smack of his wing to destabilise the other before slashing at his chest, tearing at his shirt and drawing the first blood. Because yes, Étoiles bleeds, deep cuts marring his dark green skin, chlorophyll sticking to Phil’s hands. Étoiles hisses, gets behind him and wraps his tail around Phil’s throat to choke him. Phil gasps, coughs, briefly flails before smacking the other with his wings until the tail goes slack. Phil rips it off him and whirls around to pull at it sharply — Étoiles falls, but not before grabbing onto Phil’s robes to pull him down with him.

Things get messy after that — a flurry of feathers and leaves and punches and kicks, one that clocks Phil in the jaw and makes him taste blood, one at the side of his head that makes him see stars. He hisses, screeches, swipes, again and again, and Étoiles blocks some of them with his arms, arms that gain more and more tiger-stripe cuts, but many go through and eat at his health, heart after heart. The warrior retaliates with a headbutt that makes the Angel’s world darken for a second, burning blood getting into his eyes and half-blinding him. Maybe it’s more fair this way, not that it slows him down at all.

They punch, claw, snap their teeth at each other like rabid dogs — chipping at each other’s health with no care, no limits. Dark red and greenish white smear against the straw tatami, but that’s fine, that’s okay, they are playing, they are having fun, and Philza feels alive, alive, alive!

(The whole time, Étoiles never touches his wings. Which goes against the whole ‘nothing off the table’ thing, yet Philza is grateful for it. He’s also grateful none of the eggs are here to see this.)

Philza has no idea how long this lasts, lost in the thrill of a fight the likes of which he hasn’t experienced in decades. But eventually the doom of someone getting downed makes every muscle in his body lock up, and he’s still standing. Or, kneeling over Étoiles with his talons right above his jugular, the other hand pinning the warrior’s hands above his head to keep him from hitting back. Semantics.

Étoiles has gone limp, heaving, his body a canvas of bruises and bloody cuts. “I win,” Phil realizes, wings quivering, all fluffed up in a show of victory. “I… won.”

“Well played, well played,” his warrior wheezes out in response, and Phil’s never seen anyone so happy about getting their shit kicked. Except maybe one person. But he won, Phil won, Étoiles is down and he himself still has… yes, two hearts to spare. He has won. They can stop. Right here. Right now.

But then. Étoiles, stupid and crazy and wonderful Étoiles, tilts his head back to offer him his throat, his binary-scarred face twisted in a feral grin. Philza gasps and leans back a little, eyes wide “Take your win, my bro,” he chirps, happy as can be, tail thumping against the tatami like an overpet cat. Tap, tap, tap, the countdown to his demise if Phil doesn’t up him soon. “Do it. You won’t. No balls, no bolas.”

And those words are the last push Phil needs for his Elytrian code to take over. He bares his teeth, eyes darkening to a pitch black that eats up his entire sclera, until the white of Étoiles’ teeth gets reflected back at him — not that he can see it.

Phil’s wings spread out behind him, huge and dark and awe-inspiring even in their frayed state, and the withering aura that exudes from them paints Étoiles’ eternal night in bursts of star-speckled purples and reds and blues.

It’s beautiful. And it’s terrifying. Étoiles is about to get killed by an Angel of Death, and he’s never been so goddamn scared and excited in his life.

Phil feels insane. He’s going feral, going sicko mode, or whatever other colloquialism that means his mind is drowning in the thrill of hunt, hunt, prey, yesyes. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Étoiles scared before, but there’s no mistaking those too-wide eyes, that subtle tremor in his friend’s wrists as Phil’s hand tightens around them. He can smell it too, like cut grass left to decay in the hot sun, and it’s making the End’s superpredator in him go zoomies inside his skull.

He growls, low and bone-deep and dangerous, his talons pushing harder against the paling, sweat-damp skin of Étoiles’ neck. prey? flock. prey. prey? kill, eat, yesyes. Étoiles isn’t human, but he has something close to a heart, and he bleeds like one — greenish white chlorophyll that smells strong and tastes awful, bitter.

(Phil knows that, because Purgatory happened. More specifically, Bolas happened, gas masks and ritual sacrifices and fresh blood always lingering at the corner of their mouths. He misses his flock — misses all the ones that are still gone, carving cookie-cutter negative shapes in his heart — everything else about that hellscape, not so much anymore. Maybe he’s healing, just a little.)

His talons are just a hair away from perforating Étoiles’ jugular, so close to making not-quite-blood pour out like a fountain. But then he freezes, going silent, because the part of him that is still sane recognizes that this is a terrible idea.

It’s a terrible idea because Étoiles is bad at knowing when to stop, bad at spotting the line between what challenges him and what hurts him. And Philza understands that this, this is a bad. The cucumber hybrid is a creature of instants — fugue moments, rash decisions, the kind you would look back on later and go oh, yeah, that was dumb and maybe not worth it. Hence Philza has to be the responsible one, has to ignore his base instincts screeching at him to hunt, kill, kill, lest this ends badly. Like Étoiles getting mauled to death by what is supposed to be his most trusted friend. Again. (They don’t talk about that time. Just like they don’t talk about Étoiles’ betrayal, neither want to reminisce over Phil’s teeth tearing his throat out in the middle of a Hunger disaster. Not-so-fun fact: Étoiles doesn’t taste like cucumber at all.)

“Enabler,” the avian warbles, talons slowly lifting off the hollow of Étoiles’ throat. “M’not killing you.” And Étoiles, like the little shit that he is, has the gallto pout at him. “Why not?”

“Because then I’ll have to regrow your ass in my potato field for a week, you twat.” Also I think it’s not good for you, and my sanity is at an all-time low so I don’t need cold-blooded murder to push me over the edge, he adds in petto.

Étoiles blinks. Huffs out a laugh, something a little unhinged, but also a little relieved. “Ah, yeah! I forgot, because I respawned normally in Purgatory. Okay, you win.” The warrior’s smile softens to something more like him, and just like that, the tension vanishes, the buzz of fear and aggression replaced by something light and playful. Étoiles baps his hands against his chest, grabbing at his robe to tug him down into a hug.

And Philza’s hindbrain floods the rest of him with happy, happy, yesyes, because Étoiles isn’t really a touchy-feely person and neither is Phil, but this feels right. “GGs,” the crow says back, warbling and chirping like crazy, the black in his eyes receding. yesyes, mine, mine, yesyes, yesyes! And to his surprise, Étoiles responds, not with a crude imitation of his own bird sounds, but with something… different. And Phil’s not sure any word in his vocab could ever describe it accurately — but something deep within him knows that if starlight was a sound, this would certainly be it. “Oh, oh, he is so good. The GOAT, the actual GOAT, best man on the planet Philza Minecraft,” Étoiles mock-sobs against him. “He wakes up in the morning casually being the best, and he takes care of two eggs and says fuck to the president’s office from the wall, and he finally beats me. My legend, Felipe, Felipe!”

Phil shakes from the force of his hilarity — a regular occurrence whenever he hangs around his favourite pickle man for long enough. silly, he warbles between fits of belly-aching, hiccup-inducing laughter, and he leans down to nuzzle against his friend’s mess of dark green hair (leaves?). silly. silly. flock. “I do see Forever wave at me from his office sometimes,” he hums, once he’s calmed down enough to speak again. “He makes kissy faces at me through the glass, so I flip him off.”

Étoiles hums in acceptance, finally pushes Phil back to shimmy out from under him with a small héhé to lay on his back, starfish-style. Phil rolls onto his own back, and they both stare at the interlacing wooden beams of the dojo roof for a little while, basking in the fuzz of a fading adrenaline rush.

(Phil hasn’t seen his favourite Brazilian as much lately. Silly, sun, friend-protector. He probably has his hands full, what with returning to his political duties after so long. Still, Philza worries — he thinks of black tar clinging to sun-kissed skin and tired sienna eyes, above a smile that just doesn’t shine as bright as it used to.) “I kinda like it, though. It’s like our good morning. Never tell him I said that.”

“I wooooon’t, I promise.”

“Thank you. For the fights.” Philza closes his eyes. He is here, he is real, everything about this moment is so real. It’s comforting, a balm on his fraying psyche. “It was fun.”

“It was so fun. Please fight with me again like this sometime, no sticks, yes? You have to come back so I give you your black belt anyway.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“I can hear you smiling, Phil. You want to, I knowww.”

“M’not smiling at all, dumbass.”

Étoiles does that high-pitched hum of his that means he’s not buying it, reaches towards his friend — his leader, his wielder, his death-touched Angel. Cool fingers, untouched by code, playfully trace over each of Philza’s features, feeling out the dimples and the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes — pun very much intended. “You’re so bad at lying, Philza,” he sing-songs, playful and content. “I know you too well. Maybe I can’t see you, but I can see you.”

And goddammit, Philza actually does feel seen in this moment, anxieties melting away for now. How does he do it. How does this reckless, thrill-seeking cucumber man with a limited (albeit pretty good, and improving) grasp on English so consistently drop the most gut-punching lines in this entire server. Étoiles is something else. “...Yeah. I see you too, mate,” Phil breathes out, and the rough texture of the tatami is starting to dig criss-cross patterns into his back, but he wants to stay like this. Just a little longer.

(Philza is damaged goods. But so is Étoiles, and so is everyone he knows. But maybe they can both pretend, for a little while.)

#qsmp #qsmp fic #fanfic #philza #étoiles #codebreakers #commission

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