#but i would prefer to have. a different sort of deeper voice

[rendy-a]

I llove your self aware twt au can I request for a part two of dorm magical? If it's okay to you!

There was never an idea so appealing to the cast of TWST as the idea of having a slumber party in the famed Ramshackle Dorm.  You’d get to actually sleep in that place blessed with so much of the Player’s attention.  When Crowley surprisingly agrees to allow it as a motivational tool for students, the cast rejoices!  Only, what sort of activities do you do at a slumber party in a magical dorm?

Choosing a bed

Everyone knows that there must be a room in Ramshackle that is THE BEST and everyone wants to choose that room.

Only, it isn’t quite clear what makes a room the best.  Clearly, they want the room the Player prefers but how can they determine which room that is?

Each student ends up in a different room.  Each choice is based on some trivial factor, like a board squeaking when they walked into the room, but that was clearly a sign from the Player to sleep there!  In the end, everyone is satisfied that they have secretly been chosen by the Player to stay in their FAVORITE room.

Azul hurries from room to room, understanding the need to quickly assess the value of each and make his choice ahead of the competition.  He goes quickly but still each other student he passes in the halls fills him with worry.  What if he doesn’t find the Player’s favorite room?  No one really understands what the great Player thinks, and you are unable to voice those thoughts directly. 

The anxiety blooms even deeper each time he hears a (hasty and negligent) student yell that they’ve claimed their room.  Why, Azul has barely been through half the rooms.  There is no way some slacker like Ace has been able to divine the Player’s preference faster than him after all his research into your Greatness!  “Give me a sign, please…” he mutters in desperation as he throws open the next door and enters a drafty room with a slight hole in the roof over the bed. 

It was damp and cold inside.  The bed was so waterlogged you might wonder if it was better to sleep on the floor.  Azul lets his eyes sweep over several dust-covered furniture pieces, searching for that hint of presence that would lead him to what he desires.  Suddenly a shutter on the broken window slams into the side of the house.  Azul jumps and tumbles into the soggy bed.  The chill and damp immediately surround him, but he is overjoyed by this turn of events.  “Ha ha!” he laughs joyfully, the anxiety leaving him, “You are so right, Player!  This is the perfect room for a mer from the Coral Sea.”  He flushes just a tiny bit as he mutters under his breath, “You know me so well…”  Then he shouts out to claim his room (the BEST ROOM)!

Making snacks

Everything tastes better when its burnt, right?  They want you to help so bad but you are a house and there isn’t really much you can do about it.  So maybe letting you be the one to decide when the popcorn was done wasn’t the best idea.

Strangely enough, everything does taste better when its been burnt…by the Player!  There are other snacks laid out, but everyone chooses one the Player ‘helped’ with.  It’s the taste of love?

The microwave dings and a cloud of black smoke comes rolling out when Trey opens it.  Riddle tentatively opens the bag of popcorn and pours it into the waiting bowl.  Or at least he tries too.  The burnt mass takes a little coaxing from the two Heartslabyul students to detach itself from its charred coffin.  A cabinet door swings open with a squeaky moan.  Riddle and Trey meet eyes and then Riddle nods.  “Right,” he says as he reaches into the bowl and pops a handful of charred popcorn into his mouth.

Riddle crunches the over-done popcorn in his mouth with a curious look on his face.  After a moment, having been unable to decipher the expression, Trey asks, “How does it taste?”  Instead of answering, Riddle passes Trey the bowl and the vice-dorm leader takes a sample of his own.  The same curious expression crosses his face, as though not exactly sure how the popcorn does taste.  After a silent moment where the crunching of popcorn is the only sound to be heard, Riddle swallows with some effort and gives a small cough into one gloved hand.  Then he offers slowly, “Like love?”  Trey chokes down his mouthful and nods in agreement, “I think you are onto something.  Great job, Player.”  Then he carefully sets a single kernel of burnt popcorn in the open cabinet (for the Player) before gently closing the cabinet door. 

Then they both went in for another mouthful.  It was actually good when you ignored the taste entirely and remembered it was made by the Player.  Quite good.

Games

Finding a game to plan can be a bit challenging.  No one is interested in playing any games that don’t include the Player…who is temporarily a house.  So all games must somehow include the dorm itself.

When Epel suggests 7 Minutes in Heaven, everyone is immediately onboard.  A search is put on to find just the right closet that has that “Player” feeling. 

When the bottle is spun, some lucky student then gets the privilege of sitting alone…in the closet.  But, it’s the Player’s closet!

Ruggie sits down carefully and gives Jack a thumbs up as the door closes, which earns him a deep frown from his junior.  “Keep it decent in there!” Jack admonishes as the darkness settles in.  “Sure thing, shishishishi!” Ruggie calls out.  Then his eyes narrow slowly, he was finally alone with the Player. 

He sits for a moment, unsure of how to continue.  Then, he decides a little conversation might be in order.  “So, you come here often?” he says before cringing.  “Of course you come here all the time.  It’s your house.  Forget I said that.”  When there is no mocking laughter in response, Ruggie sighs in relief.  “Thanks, Player, I knew you’d understand.”  Then he gently runs his hand over the dusty floorboards, feeling their cold smoothness.  Then he stills his hand, placing it possessively over a swirl in the woodgrain that catches his eye.  “Hey, Player,” he says quietly, “Mind if I tell you something a little secret?”  He rubs the floorboard softly, “I think you are pretty great.  I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”

The old floorboards squeak when he lays down, “Yeah, I feel it too.”  Then in a bit of a fluster he sputters, “Say, I don’t want to mess up the moment or anything but…oh damn, I don’t know how to say it but…can I…I mean…well, I’m going to kiss you now.”  When there is no objection from the closet, Ruggie flushes deep crimson and tips his head until his pursed lips make contact with the floor.  Then he smiles triumphantly and laughs in joy.  “That was perfect, Player.  So perfect,” he drapes an arm over his eyes but it does nothing to block out his enormous smile. 

A beep of an alarm is heard thought the muffled door and it is immediately thrown open by a disgruntled Sebek, “YOU THERE!  WHY ARE YOU MAKING THAT FACE?  I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT YOU’VE BEEN UP TO IN THIS CLOSET!”

Hide and seek (until morning)

As the night goes on, it’s harder and harder to find games that include the Player.  Even though it is a childish game, the cast agrees to Hide and Seek just because it gives you time alone in the dorm to bond with the Player.

They draw lots to decide on who is “it” for the game.  Silver gets the short stick and ends up being the first “seeker.”

This proves to be a bad decision as Silver finds no one before succumbing to sleep. 

No one cares as each student is perfectly content to lay in their hiding spot thinking about the Player until sleep claims them too.

Malleus wanders quietly in the gardens below Ramshackle dorm.  He hadn’t been invited to the great sleepover (of course), but he didn’t truly care.  Wandering in the moonlight with the Ramshackle dorm (and the Player) looming over him was far more enjoyable anyway.  The wind blew wildly across the field creating a series of creaks and groans from the old dorm.  Malleus supposes this is some form of language you share only with him.  He can’t yet decode it, but he would wander alone for hours to hear you talk so sweetly. 

A single light illuminates the halls of Ramshackle.  Perhaps the students have gone to bed?  He’d certainly not have given up such a precious opportunity so easily.  Malleus stands in the night contemplating the dorm and finally, his curiosity gets the better of him.  He glides carefully to the illuminated window and peers inside.  The main room of Ramshackle stands empty, the signs of earlier activities scattered about haphazardly.  A flickering light draws the fae’s eyes.  Cater lays behind a sofa smiling happily in his dream as his phone continues to play a video where it has fallen, still gripped loosely in hand. 

But where are his retainers?  The thought crosses his mind and takes hold enough for him to choose to seek them out.  Levitating gently to the second story, Malleus peers into a window to see Silver slumped over on a bed.  Some sheets are still clutched in his hand as though he was in the act of pulling them back when he was overtaken by slumber.  Although not in any conventional sort of sleeping form, the way he was nestled on the bed seemed rather cozy.  Feeling a gaze upon him, Malleus lets his eyes drift up to where he can make out Lilia expertly perched on the beams of the ceiling.  Lilia gives him a sleepy smile and a little wave before closing his eyes again, seemingly content to remain where he is. 

One last dormmate for him to check on.  High up in the tower of Ramshackle, nestled in behind a rather regal gargoyle (if Malleus does say so himself) he finds Sebek.  He clutches the gargoyle and mutters in his sleep.  “…Player…hmmm…Malleus-sama!....mmm”  A curious dream, Malleus supposes.  He does understand though.  Being here, where the Player’s presence is strongest, it makes one give in to flights of fancy.  He smiles softly and caresses an old beam.  Goodnight Player, watching over them all.  Goodnight students, dreaming warm in the Player’s embrace.  Goodnight all.

[roughentumble]

this logan kinshift is making me REALLY want a deeper voice tho i am like drooling for T

[star-sim]

hello kitty meets batman (real not clickbait!) ☆ jake sim

☆ youtuber! super down bad! bf! jake x youtuber! fem! reader ☆summary: jake sim was youtube's cut-throat, horror creator, known for his dark video style. meanwhile, you were the cutesy beauty vlogger, lighting up every algorithmically generated home page you touched. no one would have expected you two vastly different people to know each other, let alone be in a long-term relationship. ☆ genre: fluff, youtuber! au, secret dating! au, established relationship, suggestive, im sorry im never letting the ytber au go, cutesy!reader, jake is SO down bad its kinda painful #patheticmen ☆warning(s): no, just fluffy, also reader is really feminine and girly in this ☆ word count: 13.4k words ☆ wrote half of this in spanish class so im sorry if there are mistakes, first time writing established relationship in full, kinda nervy

Jake Sim was many things.

One of the most popular and well-respected content creators on Youtube was one of them.

As Jake's nimble fingers darted across his keyboard, his other hand rested firmly on his mouth, he thought that the blue light emitting from his computer screen should burn his eyes. Except, it didn't. Despite what most people thought, 90% of being Youtuber was just simply staring at a computer screen, rather than being in front of a camera lens. The man felt his nose prickle before he let out a soundless, but satisfying, yawn. He leaned back against his office chair, stretching his neck and arms before he rubbed his eyes.

There was a reason that he was an extremely respected creator on Youtube.

For one, the production quality of his videos were high. Down to the Closed Captions or his camera's grain, Jake's attention to detail was immaculate. Not to mention, the content itself was magnificent. 

Whenever people asked Jake what he did for work, it was hard for him to answer.

He'd said that he made horror content, but he'd only earned incredulous looks, like he was a madman. Even then, "horror" content wasn't the correct description.

In short, Jake liked to make videos about obscure things. Which just so happened to be a little spooky. Sketchy true crime cases, searches for lost media, strange Internet phenomena, government cover-ups— Name anything a little bit eerie and Jake probably already covered something of that sort on his channel. Given the nature of his content, Jake almost always maintained a serious tone, but when the opportunity came to offer his opinion, he liked to relay it in a straightforward way. 

Another reason why he was so regarded was because of his content style. He preferred using darker colors, having a crisp microphone that picked up every rasp of his deeper voice. When he had camera shots, Jake liked to be in a dimly lit room. Unfortunately, his room was dark, too. 

This all combined together to create a singular image for Jake: the cool, high-quality, but a little bit scary, guy that likes to make videos about scary topics.

Now cracking his knuckles, Jake sucked in a sharp breath. Although he could easily export his upcoming video now and upload it, garnering millions of views, he refused to. There was something missing from it; it needed a little umph, a little embellishment to really pull things together. If there was one thing about Jake, it was that he'd put quality over quantity any day.

Jake is torn out of his thoughts when his phone, long forgotten next to his mouse, lit up. Usually, when he worked long afternoons like this, he silenced his phones in order to maintain focus.

However, there was always one exception.

You.

pretty girl: hi babe, do you think you can help me take promo pictures later?

The moment that Jake saw your contact show up, he picked up his phone immediately. His fingers tapped his screen, quickly responding to you.

me: yeah i can do it rn if you want

pretty girl: if youre busy, it doesn't need to be today, it can be tomorrow or something

pretty girl: oh

pretty girl: are you sure?

Of course he was.

Jake was already shutting off his monitor, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes at your first message.

me: yeah i'll come over right now

You were Jake Sim's girlfriend. But other than the people in your personal life, no one else knew that.

Not that either of you minded.

Like Jake, you were a Youtuber. Except, your community was the complete opposite from his.

Your niche was cute makeup and lifestyle. Your videos had cute, blushy sets, characterized by cute plushies in the background and pretty, pink decorations. When you weren't making makeup tutorials or "get ready with me's," you were giving your viewers small sneak-peeks into your life. Whether it be your rosy morning skincare, or your sunny afternoon cooking attempts, or your illuminated late night thoughts, your content was light-hearted, soft, and personable. 

And if you weren't doing any of those things, you were modeling.

You were a beauty influencer, so you had sponsors from different makeup companies and such. What was most distinguishable from your personal brand was that you were one of Sanrio's biggest ambassadors. If there was someone that was the living embodiment of Hello Kitty, it was you.

Your personability, and your ability to feel authentic to your viewers, was a key factor in your large viewerbase. And what contributed to that the most was the fact that you had no idea how to use a camera. One would think that a content creator would know how to use a camera, but you were somehow the exception.

Not a problem!

Because you had your boyfriend, Jake!

Who was basically the master of content creation and film, in your opinion.

"Jakey!" you pounced on your boyfriend the moment he appeared at your apartment doorway. You threw your arms around his neck, immediately peppering his neck and cheeks with kisses. You heard him let out a few chuckles, feeling the rumble of his strong chest as he did. 

"Geez, babe, let me take my shoes off first," Jake teased you, taking in your sweet strawberry perfume. You immediately peeled yourself off of him, your lips forming a cute frown. 

"Shut up," you murmured, punching him on the arm while you jutted your bottom lip out. The lip tint and gloss on them shined, which made Jake grin. And when you noticed that he was staring at your lips, you gave him a gentle shove before saying again, “Shut up, Jakey.”

There it was, his favorite thing about you.

You were so, very, really, undeniably, mean to him.

Okay, that sounded weird.

But it was the truth.

Your relationship could be summed up in a few words—

You were just the cutest, and could barely contain your feelings for Jake, so you'd get all cuddly and affectionate with him. He'd tease you about it, so you'd get all shy and flustered, and you would begin to be mean to him. You'd call him stupid or annoying, and you'd tell him to go away but make no effort to resist his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And then he would get to tease you more, until you were so embarrassed that you relented and let him kiss you.

How could he not resist teasing you?

You were always so pretty, with makeup or not, and it was easy to tease you since you got embarrassed so easily.

Even if he was holding his most expensive camera in his hands, he'd still let you pounce on him, if it meant that he got one extra kiss from you.

You led him to your bedroom. It had the same sweet, strawberry scent as you. Your room was pink, and along the walls were shelves, all filled with the many, many plushies that Jake bought you. Plopping onto your bed, Jake watched as you dug around your filming desk.

"Sooo," he started, "You're gonna do a promotional post on Instagram?"

You hummed. Sanrio recently launched a new line of lip tints, and they sent you their newest ones to review and promote. 

"I already made a review, and it's going to go up later," you said, digging through your drawers. "I want to make a promo post, too, y'know?"

You let out an 'a-ha!' as you found what you were looking for. It was a tube of lip-tint, the newest one from the collection. You then touched up your makeup a little more. 

Jake watched you in awe. The way you applied lip gloss and brushed setting powder (or was it blush? he didn't know anything about makeup) onto your cheeks was so mesmerizing, as you weren't already so captivating to him.

Finally, you stood up, straightening out your outfit. You puckered your lips, and when you noticed Jake staring at you, you gave him a little twirl.

"How do I look?" you asked. 

Jake, with his camera in hand, pointed the lens at you. He looked through the viewfinder.

"Beautiful." 

As always.

The shoot went smoothly. As you always did when Jake was your photographer, the two of you drove to the film studio, renting out a room for a good hour. Jake was a pro with the camera and you were an even bigger pro at modeling. Other than a few compositional edits or changes in exposure, you and Jake were done as soon as you started. The two of you decided that you’d go back to your place, cook dinner together, and maybe watch a movie.

Except that got delayed.

“Y-You’re so annoying, Jake,” you struggled out. You were in the back seat of your car, legs thrown over your boyfriend’s hips, his soft lips connected to your neck. Your fingers gently tugged on his hair, you yourself pressing soft pecks against his forehead and temples. It started because you gave Jake a kiss on the cheek as a ‘thank you,’ which spiraled into a makeout session in your car.

“What,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flickering up to yours. “You said you’d do anything to express your thanks for me.”

Jake kissed your neck again, before trailing up your throat to your jaw. Your fingers raked through his soft hair, pushing his dark locks out of his face so that you could see his face clearly. Jake reached up, took your hand out of his hair, and instead held your palm against his cheek, nuzzling into your warm hand. The way your eyes widened into saucers, lips parting, in response made the man’s lips curve upward.

“W-Well I thought you’d ask me to hug you… or something,” you said sheepishly, your voice soft as your boyfriend’s actions flustered you.

Jake grinned to himself internally before pulling away from you altogether. 

“Then do you want to stop?” Your eyes widened a fraction. “Then, let’s go hom—“

“No!” you cut him off, your hands squeezing his shoulders. “Let’s not!”

You stared at him, brows furrowed, for a few moments, before you noticed the growing grin on your boyfriend’s face. That look you knew too well, the one that said that he was going to tease the everlasting fuck out of you.

Jake pulled you in by the waist, close enough so that your chests touched, noses almost brushing against each other. He could feel the heat radiating off your face, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“You sure you don’t wanna stop?” His voice was teasing, but you knew better. The earnest look in his eyes, you stared into yours, was filled with sincerity. He gave your waist a squeeze, almost as if to ask, “Do you actually want this?”

“Yes, Jakey,” you breathed against his lips, matter-of-factly. “I don’t wanna stop.”

The corner of his lips begin to lift.

“So you better kiss me,” you quipped, gripping his shoulders.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he rasped back, before attacking your lips.

(Later, when you were done, you two went home and went about your plan for the night. Except, you had to yell at Jake to go wash his face, because the sight of your lipstick at the corner of his lips was too much for you to take.)

"Hi, everyone!" you greeted the camera, folding your hands in your lap. With your thick, pink, knit sweater's sleeves falling over your wrists, you shot the lens a pretty smile. It was another normal day on the job of making content.

"As you guys know, VidCon is coming up soon." You pulled your makeup pouch toward your chest, leaning against the edge of your filming desk. "So, let's pack with me!"

Vidcon was an event for people to meet all of their favorite Youtubers. This year, you were invited to be one of the featured creators, given your popularity. As you filmed your "Pack with Me!" vlog, surrounded by ring lights aided by your windows cracked open, you recalled the email you had sent earlier, squeezing your eyes shut.

You see, Jake and you were both invited to VidCon. Since no one else, not even Youtube the corporation or your fellow Youtubers, knew that you guys were dating, Jake and you were given vastly different things. Youtube booked an entire hotel complex for all of its creators, and unfortunately, your room was located 10 floors below Jake's room. And worse, your booths and events were so far apart from each other that you probably wouldn't even see your boyfriend even if he decided to traverse the Convention. 

That's what you got for being vastly different content creators.

This year would be the first year that you and Jake got invited to VidCon, and you two wanted to share this experience with each other as much as possible.

Which is why you just shot Youtube one of the most embarrassing emails of your life.

"Hi, Youtube. The hotel complex you booked has a bar, and it is much closer to the top than the bottom. I really want to visit that bar. Can I request a room change so that my room is maybe on the 15th or 16th floors?" except add more formalities and much more discreet language, and that was the email you sent to your employers. You knew that it wouldn't be hard, and that the Youtube PR manager wouldn't reject your request. After all, you were the Sanrio beauty girl. Regardless, you'd gotten a response about an hour ago, and your request was approved, luckily. 

As you continued talking to your camera, folding your clothes neatly while chatting to your viewers about updates in your life, you thought about what you and Jake should do at VidCon. It was in the LA area, but you definitely wanted to visit other places in Southern California. 

It was no surprise that you and Jake had been more than touchy and close to each other. You were dating. Still, butterflies formed in your stomach as you thought about what you would do with him. Your face heated up at the thought of you and him spending time together in the hotel's rooftop hot-tub. The idea of him sneaking in your room at night, warming you up and pepperinging your cheeks with kisses, made your heart rate speed up, and you could only relish in the thought of exploring LA, Irvine, or wherever Jake wanted to take you with him.

You were a grown woman with a job and responsibilities, but the mere thought of your boyfriend being within the same vicinity as you made you nervous.

Just as you finished folding your clothes, you heard your front door crack open.

"Babe?" you hear Jake's voice call out your name. You turn off your camera to greet him, swearing to forget all of the thoughts you just had. Except, the moment that you locked eyes with him, all determination to not be teased left your body. Your lips wobbled, trying to bite back that stupid, bashful, and lovesick smile that made its way onto your face when you thought about Jake, but your eyes gave it all away. Instead of throwing yourself at him like you usually did, you only reached for the hem of his black T-shirt, playing with it sheepishly. 

You mumbled a small, "Hi."

You could feel Jake staring at you, and you could hear the way his lips curve into a smug, shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," you told him, your eyebrows crashing together.

"Baby, I didn't even say anything," Jake said, his hands finding their place on your lower back.

You felt shy and exposed before him. "Well, I know you're going to say something."

Jake grasped your chin, gently making you look at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible to avoid those dreamy, caramel eyes. Then, he took your face with both his hands, leaning in.

Was he going to kiss you? Oh my god, he was! Quick! What do you do? You felt like you were going to melt.

Instinctively, your hands tightened on the hem of his shirt, the black fabric scrunching in your fists. You closed your eyes, your lips softly puckering. You could feel him coming closer and closer, until his breath fanned your cheek.

As if he hadn't kissed you a million times before, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. 

Jake ghosted his lips over yours, inching just close enough that he could brush his lip against yours. 

And then, he pulled away from you. He took off his shoes, placed down his keys, and made his way into your bedroom, leaving you there standing alone.

Heat spread across your face and neck and ears as you realized your boyfriend had just teased you once again. You hid your face in your palms, letting out a small whine of embarrassment, before recollecting yourself and joining your boyfriend.

"Woah, what's going on here, babe?" Jake asked, standing at your bedroom doorway. 

"Oh." There was clothes and film equipment sprawled across your floor and bed. "I was filming a video."

You saw Jake's expression twitch, before he took your hands in his.

"My bad, was I interrupting something?" He was sincere in how his face showed a small drop of guilt for disrupting your filming. How could someone be such a tease one moment yet be so genuine the next?

"No, it's okay, Jakey," you said. "I mean, I need to finish my video, but I don't mind if you're around."

And that's how you found yourself trying not to burst out laughing as you filmed your video. Jake kept making funny faces at you, that goofy grin growing on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Jake, stop making faces!" you laughed, throwing a shirt at him.

He dodged it, throwing his head back into one of the plushies that he bought you. "I'm not doing anything!"

You threw another shirt at him, this time hitting him square in the face. Instead of admitting defeat, Jake only grabbed your shirt, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking a long, dramatic, sniff. 

"You smell sooooo good, babe," he said, ignoring your contorted expression, "I think I'm gonna keep this. You won't mind, right?"

"Ugh, Jaaaaakee!"

You plopped on top of him in bed. You felt his chest rumble as chuckles left his lips, rolling your eyes at him. You gave his chest a smack, a pout forming on your lips.

"You're so annoying," you mumbled as his hands slithered up to your hips. He gave your ass a pat, gesturing you to adjust your position. You did, sitting up so that you straddled your boyfriend's hips.

"And you're so pretty," he said, squeezing your hipbone.

"Let go of me," you poked him in the chest, but made no attempt to get off of him. 

"No."

"I need to finish my video," you pouted, still not moving to get off of him. 

"I don't care." Jake instead sat up on his elbows, his hands sliding down to your lower back, his face getting suspiciously close to your boobs. "Just lay with me."

Your fingers ran through his dark locks, before giving them a tug towards your chest. Jake laid his cheek against your boobs like they were pillows, arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and neck. The next thing you knew, he was pressing sticky kisses against your chest and neck, soft gasps escaping your lips.

"Sorry, babe," he muttered against the shell of your ear, "I just can't resist you."

You let out a soft "ahhh!" when he bit down on your skin, his teeth brushing against the nape of your neck. Jake briefly pulled away, a smirk making its way onto his face as he admired the red-purple mark on your neck. 

"You're just too addicting."

Long story short, your video was still finished and uploaded. As Jake edited his video, he let yours play in the background, your bright voice illuminating his dark room. Somehow, your voice was the only thing that made him focus. 

However, when he heard a familiar laugh— his laugh— in your video, Jake stopped in his tracks.

His mind flashed back to what happened the other day in your apartment, when he interrupted you during your filming.

"I don't know if I turned off my camera, Jake," you had purred as Jake's tongue dipped into your collarbone. At that point, both you and him were shirtless, hair disheveled and pupils blown out with desire. Jake remembered the electricity that ran through him as those words left your lips.

"Am I supposed to care?" he had muttered, trailing kisses down your chest. "If they hear us, that's not my problem."

It was almost like you, who edited your video, added that clip to tease him. 

Immediately, his cheeks began turning the brightest shade of red possible. If you were here, he would have only coughed and looked away shyly, but since he was alone, his embarrassment spread across his face like a wildfire. Jake almost never showed it when he was flustered, at least when he was around you. 

He hid his face in his palms, sucking in a sharp breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, warmth prickling his skin. You were going to be the death of him. He let out a small, lovesick giggle, one that his friends would flame him for. He couldn't help it, not if it was you. 

When he read the comments, still flustered out of his mind, he felt a twinge of disappointment when no one seemed to notice him. 

For some reason, Jake couldn’t help but want people to know that you were his. He knew that you and him kept your relationship private to preserve it, but he still wanted to show you off.

Except, one comment caught his eye.

“Wait, does [Name] have a boyfriend? Who laughed at 6:34?” it read. Jake’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. The warmth that spread across his chest as his lips pulled upwards. He almost wanted to jump on his bed and roll around while giggling like a schoolgirl, but he contained himself.

At the corner of his eye, Jake spotted a certain plushie. 

As you were a partner of Sanrio, for a time there was a Limited Edition [Name] plushie, clad in pink with a cute, ruffle-lace bow to top it all off. Of course he bought one the moment it launched. Jake preferred his room to be completely dark and black, but he liked to keep that plushie on his bed, and although he’d never admit it, he hugged it when he slept if you weren’t with him.

Would it be wrong of him to tease you back? After all, Jake still had to film the brand deal for his new video. 

Would it hurt to position the plushie just enough so that it was in frame? 

So that maybe someone would see it.

Vidcon came crashing on you and Jake like a meteor, and before the two of you knew it, you were in the venue, wringing your fingers as the event commenced.

Sometimes, it was difficult for you to comprehend the level of your popularity. Sure, the numbers that Youtube loved to display for you told you that you had millions watching you, but mere numerical figures were simply not enough for you to wrap your mind around.

Your schedule that day was simple: you were going to have a booth that you'd tend to for an hour or two, where your fans could take pictures with you and take a few freebies with them. Then, you'd go to your main event, which was in a smaller venue.

At your booth, where you sat currently, your personal table was set up in a very special way: your table was pink, and covered in a lacy, white tablecloth. Even the wall behind you was specifically painted pink and decorated with various Sanrio-esque decorations. You had stickers that you'd give out, as well as a Limited Edition Vidcon Sanrio plushie of you that people could buy. The pink polaroid decorated with Hello Kitty stickers hung around your neck with a pink lanyard. You genuinely looked like Sanrio and Hello Kitty vomited all over you, but you didn't mind. And plus, that didn't matter, because you were cute either way.

You were hit with pure surprise as multiple groups of fans came your way. The amount of people that came to you, rambling nervously about how much they loved you, how much they looked up to you, how much you inspired them and made their days better, made you feel light-headed. And very warm inside.

Jake was the one that did the talking for you (thank goodness!), but for some reason, you pushed through your usual shyness, instead wanting for people to come up to you and talk.

Your face lit up as one of your fans, a girl that looked around your age, maybe only a few years younger than you, approached you. You could tell by the Sanrio sticker of you on her phone case that she was most definitely here for you.

"Oh my gosh, hi [Name]!" She gazed at you with wide, glimmering eyes. 

Your initial reaction was surprise, but then you broke out into a smile. You cocked your head, fingers gripping the hem of your dress, both nervous and excited. "Hi, there."

You fan took one look at your face, and squealed. The way that she giggled, bouncing on her feet as she fangirled over you made warmth spread across your cheeks, getting shy and looking down briefly.

"I'm sorry, [Name]!" Your fan couldn't stop giggling, which you thought was very cute. It was now that you noticed the camera in your hand. "I just really love your content, and I'm just so excited to meet you in real life!"

You blinked at her a few times, before you smile only widened. 

"Don't worry about it!" you said, taking her free hand in yours. Your shyness melted away as your fan squealed again. "It really means a lot to me that you came out here to personally see me."

Your eyes flickered over to her camera, squeezing her hand and motioning to it with your other. "Can I...?"

She nodded enthusiastically, so you took her camera. Turn on the 'photo' setting, you posed for the camera, taking multiple pictures of yourself for her. You hoped that that would make up for your shyness. The two of you hugged, and you took many polaroids for her.

Almost immediately, after she left, you were tagged in a Twitter thread. It was that fan, reporting her experience with you.

"She was so much prettier in real life, I thought I was in heaven," her tweets detailed, "And [Name] was so sweet! It felt like I was meeting the real life Hello Kitty."

She posted the pictures you took on her camera, and then the videos. You couldn't help but grin like an idiot, especially at the comments (and the rapidly-accumulating likes and retweets).

"The way [Name] gets so shy is so cute!"

"I don't really watch beauty content but I love [Name] so much."

"She's like an actual Disney Princess."

You loved your fans, you really did. You were grateful for them, and you thought they were very cute. 

You were excited to see how Vidcon would treat you.

Jake was fighting.

He was fighting demons, wars, the little voices in his head.

Did you have to look so pretty today?

Jake's own event was an entire venue away from yours. He had a few events, so after his first one, he took a small break, where he looked through his notifications. 

Of course, the first thing he looked at was your texts. They were from a while ago, during his show when he didn't have his phone on him, so he responded to them now. He smiled at your cute texts, expressing how excited and happy you were. His heart jumped out of his chest when he saw the selfie you sent him: there you were, in all your cutesy Sanrio glory, smiling so prettily for him. Jake had to clasp his face to hide the stupid, love-struck grin that bled onto his face. 

"Oi, what're you giggling about?" Jake was interrupted by Jay, another one of his fellow horror Youtubers.

Jake immediately wiped his expression clean. "Nothing."

When he glanced back at his phone, that dumb grin began to form again.

Jay groaned. "This is so weird. It's like watching Batman smile."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake scoffed.

"I'm sayin' that you're basically Youtube's Batman," Jay scrunched his nose, "And it's weird seein' you all... smiley and stuff."

"I literally smiled earlier!"

"Not in the way that you did just now. I have a bad feeling about it."

"Shut up!"

Jake really tried his best to swallow back his pure admiration for you as he opened his phone screen again, but he failed miserably.

He wished he could see you right now. He loved to see his fans, he loved to talk to them about their shared interest: all things horror and obscure.

But Jake missed you right now.

His heart plummeted to his stomach, however, when he logged onto Twitter, and saw the worst hashtag he could ever think of: #[Name]isSoCute.

He agreed with it. No, he embraced that sentiment with every molecule in his being.

Just... he wished that he could see you right now. When he checked the tag and saw all the cute pictures that people took of you and the sweet experiences they had with you, he frowned— That should be him!

However, Jake actually saw the worst thing to ever materialize when he saw the top video under the tag.

It was a shaky video, starting off with a teenage boy walking up to you. In the background, he could hear your pretty voice in the background, exchanging small greetings and words with the poster. Jake was almost lost in his sheer love for you when his eyes narrowed. The boy in the video let out a little chuckle, before dropping a cheesy pick-up line on you.

"[Name], if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber." What made it worse was that you only giggled, leading the boy to drop a few other dumb pick-up lines. The camera panned up to you, showing you all smiley and bashful. Then, you and the boy hugged, before taking a few polaroids together.

Jake almost snapped his phone in half.

He understood better than anyone that you were a content creator just like him. It was part of the job to interact with fans, and given your character, of course you were sweet to them. He could tell that you were perfectly comfortable in the video, and that the kid probably was just joking around with his favorite Youtuber.

But did that stop Jake from mentally lambasting every single aspect of the video? Absolutely not.

Shaky camera, probably filmed on a phone, Jake's hands balled into fists, Fucked up aperture, exposure to low, bad mic.

Was he being a little immature? Yes, and Jake knew that. 

Though, Jake would admit that he agreed with a lot of comments and retweets under that post, hearting many of them in agreement.

"[Name] is such a cutie!" one read.

Absolutely.

"I love her so much," another read.

Me too, Jake thought.

"I want her so bad."

Just as Jake's finger hovered over the 'heart' button, he let out a small hmph. Did it annoy him that other people wanted you? Yes. But did he disagree with the comment? Nope. He pressed the "like" button.

He wanted to see you so bad. As Jake was queued up on stage, ready for his second event, he hoped that he could see you soon.

And his wish came true a few hours later.

It was now past noon, and Vidcon was in its (unofficial) intermission period, where a lot of the creators were now taking breaks. As Jake traversed the convention, he texted you trying to find a spot where the two of you could meet.

He passed the many booths and venues of his fellow Youtubers. The layout was unique in the way that Youtubers of similar genres were placed in similar areas. So when he started seeing Youtubers with bright makeup and problematic pasts, Jake knew that he was near you.

And lo and behold, soon he found you. Under the fluorescent light, you still glowed. There was some kind of halo around you as you turned over your shoulder, your face instantly brightening up as you spotted your boyfriend. You had a few fans that you were talking to at the moment, so you tended to them first, while Jake made his way over to you.

You and Jake agreed that you wouldn't make your relationship too obvious at Vidcon, but all of that was left forgotten the moment that Jake saw you. 

However, as you ran up to him, people couldn't help but stop and stare.

Why wouldn't they? You were the living embodiment of Sanrio, that one Hello Kitty girl, whereas Jake was that one guy that made scary content and was often shrouded in darkness, dubbed as Youtube's personal Batman. Absolutely no one would have expected to see the two of you interacting with one another, let alone be within the same vicinity.

"Hi, Jakey," you smiled up at him, and Jake thought that he could die right there. With the amount of people staring, Jake had to restrain himself from throwing his arms around you and hugging you.

"Hey, baby," he grinned. 

Before either of you could do anything, you and Jake were interrupted by a shrill squeal. You whipped your heads around to see a young girl and her older brother, who still looked relatively young. They explained nervously that the girl liked your content, while the brother liked Jake's content. They were expecting to scour in order for each of them to meet either of you, but were surprised to see you and Jake in one place.

You and Jake took a few pictures with them, both individually. Though, the two of them requested a picture with both you and Jake in the same frame, which you happily did.

When they left, you and Jake shared a look, before going off together.

Vidcon Day 1: Over.

Jake returned to his hotel room, too tired to do anything other than wash up and order room service. 

As Jake laid in his half-hard hotel mattress, he scrolled through his phone. He was tagged in a lot of pictures and tweets, and he found himself grinning at a lot of the sweet words his fans left. Although he was tired, he could definitely do this a few more times, feeling invigorated by his fans.

As he scrolled, the trending Twitter hashtag caught his eye.

#HelloKittyMeetsBatman.

Interesting name, he thought as he clicked on it.

Jake's heart skipped a beat as he saw what came up.

Apparently, people were extremely surprised to see you and Jake so close to each other. 

There were so many pictures of you and him taken together from afar just from that one instance earlier, from multiple different angles and distances. Jake would admit, the way he was dressed in all black while you were dressed in cute pinks and whites was almost laughable.

What truly caught his attention were the captions of all these pictures.

"Craziest crossover of 2024."

"I'm crying they legitimately look like Hello Kitty and Batman."

"Jake Sim and [Name] interacting was not on my Vidcon 2024 bingo card."

"This is like seeing two worlds collide, absolutely wild but I'm pleasantly surprised."

For the most part, it seemed like everyone just thought that you and Jake were friends, but it was still a little funny how taken aback the entire internet was.

Then, he saw the picture of you, him, and those two kids together. 

"They look like a family," was one of the most popular retweets under that post. 

Family.

That word rang through Jake's head, before he buried his face in one of the pillows, giggling to himself. He felt a little ridiculous getting so excited over such a small comment, but he couldn't help it. He felt so giddy inside at the thought of having a family with you, and felt even giddier knowing that people could see it, too.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Jake wasn't going to answer it, too caught up in his flustered-ness, but when he realized that it was you, he quickly cleared his throat, instinctively straightening out his hair (because what if he accidentally turns on his camera?-- he needed to look good for you!).

"Baby," he greeted suavely, as if he wasn't just giggling like a schoolgirl seconds ago.

Maybe it was the fact that it was already getting late, or the fact that Jake barely saw you today, or the fact that you were just so goddamn perfect, but your voice sounded so attractive in that moment.

"Jakeyyy," you whined. "Come over."

His chest was already throbbing but Jake played it cool.

He chuckled. "What for?"

"I miss you," he could hear the pout in your voice. "And I want your attention."

It was rare for you to be so direct with him, and while Jake wanted to melt on the spot, he wanted to tease you a bit longer.

"What's wrong with just being on the phone with me?" Jake's lips pulled into a smirk. "You can just talk to me like this."

"Noooo," you said. "I want— I want you."

Jake tried his best to not crumble then and there, but it was too hard.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Okay then, baby. I'll come over right now."

He didn't miss the cute little "yay!" you let out before you hung up.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Eep! Jake, what are you doing here—?!”

You’re cut off when you realized that you were, in fact, backstage of one of your events. Today was the second day of Vidcon, and you had just finished up your first event. As you went backstage, carrying the little bags of gifts that your fans got you, you didn’t expect your own boyfriend to be waiting back there for you.

“Hey there, Princess,” he said cheekily, sprawled across the backstage couch. "Miss me?"

He opened his arms up, and you instinctively crawled into them, sitting on his lap and sliding your arms around his neck. 

As you did, you eyed him up and down.

Clad in black as always, he wore a black button-up, paired with black slacks, a black belt, and a loose, black tie. That's right: today, Jake was going to have a panel with a whole bunch of other horror creators, ones that transcended the internet— authors, authors that Jake spent his whole life reading and looking up to, which explained why he was dressed significantly more proper today than yesterday.

The way his shirt fit his chest and hugged his shoulders made it hard for you to not stare, and the way that it wasn't buttoned at the top, revealing his honey-tan collarbones, mixed with the scent of his rich cologne, made you feel dizzy.

"Ay, are you checkin' me out?"

On any other day, you'd be embarrassed, maybe even pushing him away, but today, you only nodded your head, humming mindlessly in agreement.

Jake blinked at you, before he pulled you in by the waist so that you were flushed against his chest completely.

"Kiss me," you mumbled, pushing his dark bangs away from his face.

Jake chuckled, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles. "What's with you these days? Getting so bold."

You only leaned into his touch. Maybe it was sometime in the LA air, or maybe it was the vigor that your fans gave you earlier, but all you could do was look at your boyfriend with glossy, wide eyes innocently, watching the way that his resolve trembled.

"Shit," Jake cursed under his breath. "Hold on—"

He grabbed your hips, then tilted your chin so that he could have a better angle. Your lips crashed into one another. Not in the way that a meteor would crash into Earth's delicate atmosphere, but in the way that gentle sea waves crashed onto themselves, dark folds of blue creasing over each other, only to brush up against the foamy seashore, none the wiser. 

Jake liked the taste of your lip gloss; it tasted sweet, but not nearly as sweet as you, hungrily squeezing your hips in his hands. He swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, earning a squeal from you, who tugged on his hair. 

When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, chests heaving not for air, but for each other. You stared at each other for a few moments, losing time in each other's eyes, when your eyes trailed down.

God, the button-up and tie were going to drive you crazy.

Without thought, your fingers twirled around his tie, slinking up his chest before you yanked him harshly, jerking Jake toward you abruptly. 

In a moment of pure, unadulterated boldness, you attacked his neck, laying sticky kisses all across his skin. One hand laced itself in Jake's hair, keeping a firm hold of his tilted head, while your other hand crept around the buttons of his shirt. 

Each soft sigh that Jake let out made you only press more kisses on him. When he let out one particularly loud whine, his arm jerking up to grab at the couch's armrest, you knew that you found the sensitive spot on his neck. You pressed another kiss on that spot, this time sinking your teeth into his skin. The hickey was dark and purple, and when you ran your tongue over it, Jake's hands shot to your hips again.

"Shit, [Name], wait a sec—"

Skillfully, your fingers began to slowly unbutton Jake's shirt, just enough that you could see more of his chest. 

Your head was feeling fuzzy now, drunk off your desire for him. The way he threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp of air he took in, curses falling from his lips, sent electricity coursing through your body.

When you unbuttoned the last button, you noticed the way Jake's eyes were squeezed shut, his other arm resting over them, hands balled into fists as his desperation for you increased.

"Jakey," you said. Jake was going to go mad, the way your voice was so soft and innocent as it said his name, all the while you were kissing and touching him in ways that made him go light-headed. He squeezed his eyes shut, another whimper escaping his lips. If he looked you in the eye right now, he was sure that he'd burst. "I want you to look at me."

He couldn't refuse you. Immediately, he opened his eyes, the arm strewn over his face dropping back to its position on your hips.

If he didn't die by combustion, Jake was certain that he'd die now— Your pupils were blown out, eyes lidded and staring at him like he was your prey to be slaughtered. He'd seen you wrought with desire so many times before, but the way you gazed at him like he was a piece of meat, like you were going to absolutely ruin him, made him feel weak.

"Watch me, Jakey," your voice sounded so sweet, but your actions said otherwise. You abruptly got up from your seat on his lap, Jake frowning at the loss of your touch. You dug through your purse thrown across the room, returning with a tube of lipstick.

You plopped back onto Jake's lap, making sure that he was watching as you applied it to your pretty, swollen lips. 

Then, you discarded it, throwing your lipstick to the side as you snatched his tie again. You brought the black fabric to your lips, staring your boyfriend down as you pressed kisses on his tie. You kissed it a few times, making sure that the color of your lipstick, as well as the shape of your lips, was well-imprinted on it.

Then, you yanked his shirt's collar toward you, pressing a harsh kiss on the fabric, making sure that the shape of your lips was once again imprinted on the fabric.

You looked back up at his face, unable to hide your smugness as his entire expression was painted with red.

"You're so hot—" Jake attempted to force out of his throat, but you only cut him off with a rough kiss to his lips. Without a word, you covered his face, from his forehead to his jaw, with kisses.

You pulled back to admire your work, before you pulled away from him.

"I have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said quietly, your back turned to him as you straightened out your skirt. Dumbfounded, Jake could only stare at you, but when you turned over your shoulder, flashing him a bright, but terribly cheeky, grin, Jake's heart fell out of chest. "I can't be late, right?"

With that, you left your boyfriend, all hot and bothered, on the couch, running off to prepare for your next event.

Almost immediately, Jake melted. He threw an arm over his eyes as he leaned back, letting out a groan.

Was this how you felt when he teased you?

Was he now sexually frustrated? Absolutely. But now he wanted you even more.

After mulling over it for a few minutes, Jake began to go back to his venue. But, as he passed the backstage vanity, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Some of it was obvious to him already: disheveled hair, messed up shirt. But what made Jake want to evaporate was the sight of his entire face and neck covered in lipstick marks. The corner of his lip had a big lipstick smudge, the hickey that you gave him earlier was so dark now, and he couldn't even dare to forget your lip imprints on his shirt and tie.

You little tease.

Jake's last straw was.... right now.

After the backstage fiasco, he didn't get to see you all day. That night, you had a PR event to attend with your fellow beauty creators, so he didn't get to see you at night either.

Which was why Jake was practically glowing with a dark and negative storm cloud as he pranced around the third day of Vidcon. It didn't help that he saw so many pictures of you and fans all across platforms. Poor guy almost lost it when one of your fans' vlogs blew up, the most replayed part being when you let out the most angelic and sweet laughs he'd ever heard in his life.

That should be him!

Meanwhile, Jake sat in the convention room at a panel. Lined up along the table were other horror creators, from authors to Youtubers to filmmakers, similar to yesterday. The way that this specific event operated was simple: fans got to ask anyone on the panel questions and they'd answer, which the entire room got to hear, and later there would be one-on-ones along the panel.

Jake was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the fans said that they had a question for him.

"Jake, your videos take a long time to make, how do you balance work and your personal life?"

Good question. He had a simple principle when it came to how to balance everything. Jake thought about it for a moment, before reaching for his microphone.

"I don't have any outright method," he began. Jake's mind flashed with your image: all the cute messages you'd send him throughout the day, all the times where after hours of rotting in front of his computer screen he could always count on your loving embrace to give him life, all times that he'd tune into your Spotify playlist so that he could be listening to what you were listening. It was easy to balance work and life, if it was you. "But I always put my life before the screen."

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

"To be clear, I understand the privilege of getting to work in a profession like mine," Jake continued. "I don't expect everyone to be able to follow my advice exactly, but the more I live, the more I realize that what happens before my very eyes will endlessly matter so much more than what happens in my own little Youtube bubble."

Jake's mouth jumped to you faster than his mind could stop him.

"My beautiful girlfriend is everything to me," he unconsciously began to grin stupidly to himself, "I'd put her above work any day if I had to."

The moment that those words left his lips, the room erupted with gasps and whispers.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend?!" one of Jake's Youtuber friends asked, leading the room to laugh.

Oh.

Shit.

Jake's eyes visibly widened. He clutched his microphone, bringing it up to his mouth, but no words came out.

There was no way in hell that he'd outright deny you, not even in a million years.

"I.... Well..." Jake stammered, trying his best to generate any words at all. He sucked in a sharp breath, a bashful expression making its way onto his face. "That's..."

The room filled with more laughter, alongside the teasing grins and pats on the back that Jake got from his colleagues.

"Oh, so that's what you were giggling about yesterday, lover boy..." Jay, also on the panel, quipped, his brows raised so high on his forehead that it could have touched his hairline.

"Sh-Shut up, Jay!"

Jake's chest felt fizzy. In a weird way.

A part of him felt on-edge. You and him always wanted to keep your relationship secret, for the sake of preserving it. He'd seen what the Internet did to relationships: it tore them apart. It wasn't like he name-dropped you, but he felt so... exposed, so vulnerable.

But at the same time, Jake felt his chest also swell with pride. That's right. He had a girlfriend (a hot girlfriend at that), a girlfriend that he was nefariously down bad for. He hoped everyone knew that, that he was taken and that if there was anyone that he'd spend the rest of his life with, it would be you.

Jake huffed. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend. What about it?"

No one questioned him further. Probably out of fear.

You were in the middle of trying your best to get through a conversation with some beauty guru that you knew one thing about: their personal makeup line launch failed horribly and they gave everyone hairy lipsticks. It was difficult, to say the least.

Exchanging your final regards, you quickly rushed back to your booth.

The first thing you saw when you checked your phone was a viral video, in which Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend. Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you initially read the caption, but when you watched the video, you had a difficult time processing your feelings.

Did you hate that Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend? … No, you didn’t. You didn’t at all. At a certain point, seeing the way that your boyfriend smiled so earnestly made your heart jump out of your chest. The way he was so giddy and smiley (of course, only you could tell that that was how he was feeling— to everyone else it probably looked like he was brooding) made your neck and cheeks warm up.

But, the way that the room erupted with voices and laughter, combined with the quirked brows of everyone on the panel, made you quiver.

You weren’t prepared for it, for how vulnerable you felt as a chorus of “ooh’s” filled the room.

Frankly, there were too many things that you had to focus on at the moment. You'd rather enjoy Vidcon now, and address it later, when things settle down. 

Pushing it to the back of your mind, you tucked your phone away, greeting another wave of fans. Though, not without taking an extra second to "heart" the post, adding it to your favorites folder, and rewatching the video one more time, feeling warmth and giddiness filling your chest.

As the cool night air kissed your cheeks, you fought the shy smile that seeped onto your face. It was late now, late enough that you could see all the city lights gleaming, lighting up the dark sky with blotches of all different colors.

There was a Vidcon party for creators, to celebrate the end of the event. Everyone was going. Although it was meant for any creator, there was a very exclusive VIP section; only those of high prestige could get in. Both you and Jake were invited, but upon realizing that nearly the entire hotel complex would be empty due to the popularity of the party, the two of you ditched it.

You'd been wanting to go to the rooftop hottub for a while now, but you never went because you wanted to go with Jake, and it was always too crowded for the two of you to go there comfortably. But now that everyone was gone, it was the perfect time.

Your boyfriend was already waiting for you up there, towel thrown over his shoulder with a shirt and swim trunks. His face lit up the moment he saw yours emerging from the elevator doors, rushing over to you to take your hands.

He paused for a moment. His dark eyes peered at yours, licking his lips before sucking in a sharp breath. Jake gave your forehead a peck, before saying a small "C'mon" and pulling you over to the hottub.

Jake took your towel for you, folding it next to his and perching it on a sunchair.

"They're gonna get off fireworks soon— Oh, damn," he cut himself off as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing a bikini top. Your face scrunched up, squirming under his gaze. It's not like Jake has never seen you like this (in fact, he'd seen you in much more compromising positions), and it wasn't like he never complimented you, but as the hottub bubbled, the rosy scent of the water filling the air, you felt shy.

Jake slinked toward you, taking his own shirt off. 

"Hey there, Gorgeous," he said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts that had yet to be taken off. Your heart pounded in your chest, fighting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and groan in embarrassment. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. Jake chuckled softly, before clutching your chin gently, making you look up at him.

"Don't get shy on me now, babe," Jake grinned when your lips pressed into an unconscious pout. He squished your cheek, relishing in the look of confusion painted across your face. Then, his hands fell to your hips, pulling them toward his. "You look so beautiful."

Jake's fingers hooked onto the hem of your shorts, meeting your eyes for permission before pulling them down himself, revealing your bikini bottoms.

Jake's eyes glazed over your figure, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Jaaakee," you whined, squeezing his hands.

"Sorry," Jake's eyes flickered up to your face. "I can't help it. You're just so hot, baby."

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub.

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub. 

The two of you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water, you felt your limbs relax. 

Vidcon was very fun, some of the most fun you've had in a while. But, it was very tiring, having to be around so many people at a time. And plus, it was hard not seeing your boyfriend whenever you wanted.

You pulled your knees to your chest. You could hear the loud techno music a few blocks away, probably coming from the club nearby. The bright night lights of LA was something that you could only imagine sleeping under.

Other than the sound of the city bustles, the hot tub’s jet system, and the occasional ripple of water, the night was silent.

“How was your day?” Jake broke the calm silence. The way the blueish water reflected off his skin made you dizzy.

“Good,” You cursed your voice for being so small. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. It was your boyfriend, for goodness’s sake!

Jake loved it when you were shy, but sometimes he was genuinely worried about you. Part of why he loved you was the game that was trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

He reached out for you, clutching your knee. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Your stomach churned. For a second, you thought about that video of him admitting that he had a girlfriend. It made your skin crawl, but when your boyfriend squeezed your knee, it all stopped.

"Nothing," you said simply.

There's a few pulses of silence, before Jake clicked his tongue.

"H-Hey—!"

Jake got up from the water, wrapping his hands around your waist, and hoisted you up so that your legs were thrown on either side of the body, before sitting back down so that you were perched right on top of his lap.

Your chest, nearly bare, pressed against his own bare chest in a way that made your heart race. The warmth of his skin as it contacted yours was an addicting feeling, enhanced only by the warm water surrounding you. Either it was the steam from the tub, or the heat collecting between the two of your bodies, that rose to your cheeks.

You rested your hands on his chest, your fingertips barely reaching his broad shoulders, while Jake’s hands stayed in their spot around your waist.

"C'mon," you could feel Jake's warm, strong chest rumble beneath you. "Tell me what's wrong."

Under the sky, his eyes gleamed, like two gems. For the flirt that he was, Jake was too genuine and pure of a person. The sincere worry in his eyes made you feel warm, even warmer than you felt right now. And sometimes that was enough for you.

You leaned into him, your hands coming up to cup his face. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks, to which he let his eyelids fall shut, relishing in the comfort that was your presence. Every time your thumb pressed against his lips, he kissed them, unable to hide the smile growing on his lips when you giggled softly.

At the corner of your eye, you spotted the purple hickey you left on him the other day. That combined with his wet hair, the water droplets temptingly running down his chest, and the fact that you were right on top of him made you feel light-headed.

Your hands left his face, and Jake opened his mouth to whine about it, but was shut up when your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss.

It was a soft, innocent kiss, the type you gave when you just wanted to be close to him. Jake hummed against your lips, squeezing your thighs. You pulled away first, but Jake gently guided the back of your head back to his, pecking your lips.

"I just missed you," you said. You kissed his cheek. "I really missed you."

"It's only been a day," Jake teased you, but he knew better than anyone that he had absolutely no right to say that to you: he was practically dying each moment he couldn't see you.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. You held onto his strong shoulders, eyes glued to his lips. You were feeling needy, needy in the way that you simply wanted to be close to Jake. You were already close to him, but you wanted to be even closer. Your heart thirsted for it.

Then, you heard a rustle, whipping your head around toward the sound.

"Nuh-uh," Jake whispered in your ear, gently holding your face and guiding it to look at him. "I want you to look at me."

It wasn't until a few seconds later that you understood why Jake's tone sounded so teasing: he was referencing you and him the other day backstage. 

"Stoppp," you whined, pushing your face into his neck. "You're so annoying."

Jake laughed, his chest rumbling. He stopped to admire the way you were all pressed up against him. He could feel every curve of your body, and he could feel the way your cheeks puffed with air, your lips forming a pout. He poked your cheek.

"You're so cute, baby."

"I know."

"What's with you getting so bold?"

"You're annoying me."

"Awww, you love me so—"

Fireworks fired off in the distance, painting the gray-blue sky with bright colors. 

You stayed in your position, only your eyes moving upward to admire the show. However, Jake stayed staring straight at you, practically ignoring the fiery flowers forming in the sky. He gazed into your eyes, watching the reflection in them.

"It's so pretty," you murmur.

"Yeah," Jake felt like he was falling into your eyes, "So pretty."

Just as another round of fireworks shot up into the sky, Jake grabbed your face, crashing his lips onto yours. Your lips fit into each other well, like puzzle pieces, in a way that was so satisfying, almost like you were made for kissing Jake. But for all of the desire and roughness that the kiss was filled with, it was a soft one. 

Jake swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, making you squeal and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands kneaded your body, roaming all over you with no intention of leaving a single part of your skin untouched. Likewise, you gripped his biceps, digging your nails into his skin to keep yourself grounded.

"Fuck—" Jake mumbled against your lips, only to get cut off by your lips attacking his— "Wait—"

Jake tasted sweet, like candy. He tasted like home, like love, like everything was going to be okay no matter what. How could you pull away now? 

"B-Baby, wait—"

"Stop talking, Jakey," you pulled away briefly, only to bite his lip, pulling on the pink flesh with your teeth. You let your tongue roam his mouth, feeling the warmth as your own hands began to wander his toned chest. 

"Just kiss me," you breathed.

You kept Jake like this for a few more minutes, trapping him in the heaven that was your lips. But when your bikini top began to untie at the back, something that Jake noticed immediately, he ripped away from you.

Something in his eyes had changed.

Quietly, he tied your bikini top back for you, ignoring your confused (and very breathless) gaze.

"If you keep doing what you do to me," he began into your ear, "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

With that, Jake threw you over his shoulder as he hoisted himself up to his feet. He grabbed everything that you brought to the rooftop, throwing your towel over you and ignoring you fussing.

"W-Where are we goin—?!"

"Back to my room."

You were in for a night.

You and Jake were going to stay in LA for a little while longer after Vidcon, so you extended your stay in the same hotel rooms.

After last night, Jake and you fell asleep in his bed. 

It was going to be the best, Jake thought. Neither of you had anywhere to be, anyone to put on a show for. The two of you could sleep in for as long as you'd like. It didn't really matter to him, as long as he could wake up with you in his arms, he'd be all right.

Which is why Jake's heart dropped to his stomach when he woke up to you already dressed, pacing around the room nervously.

"Baby?" Jake was alarmed, even as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Baby, what happened?"

You whipped your head over to him, your expression pinch and painted with anxiety. 

"Check your phone," you muttered as you chewed your lip.

Jake did as you said. The moment he opened up his phone, his screen was filled with text messages from everyone: his colleagues, his friends, heck even his own mother. He was tagged in about a thousand posts all across his social media accounts, and his Youtube home page was plastered with his face. But not only his face. Your face too.

What caught his eye was an article from a major Internet news source that made its round across every platform.

Its headline?

Jake Sim and [Name] [Last Name] are reported to be dating.

The worst part was the cover page.

It was a photo of you and Jake, together in the hottub last night, with your arms thrown around his neck with your lips connected. When he read more into it, the photo evidence got more and more specific. Close-up pictures of Jake's neck to reveal a hickey and lipstick mark on his shirt, your smudged lipstick, a screenshot of the Sanrio plush in one of his videos, even that clip of his laugh in the background of one of your videos. Of course, the most crucial one was that clip of Jake admitting that he had a girlfriend.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For everyone to know about you, to be able to show you off.

Objectively, this was bound to happen.

But as Jake watched you pace around, your hands shaking as you looked like you were about to cry, he didn't feel the pride that he thought he would feel if everyone knew. He didn't feel happy, he didn't feel excited that he got to show you off. All he felt was a mix of guilt and anger.

And before he could reach out to hold your hand and pull you close, you quietly said that you were going to go on a walk, and left the hotel room.

The quiet that filled the hotel room was piercing. Jake stilled in his spot, still groggy and disheveled.

Had he always been like this?

He swore that at the beginning of your relationship, he took every measure to keep it private. Because you asked him to. Because he respected you.

Why did he throw it all away? 

He agreed to keep things private. 

But now he put you in an uncomfortable position and an even more vulnerable position than you'd ever been in before. 

Was he a bad boyfriend? Were you going to break up with him? Would your relationship with him ever be the same? That made Jake's heart palpitate. He couldn't lose you. No, he'd die. But then again, he fucked up, he knew that.

Jake ran a hand through his hair. This was an asshole move.

But he couldn't help feeling his fingers twitch for his phone when it ding'd.

The first thing he saw when he opened up Twitter were tweets at him.

And they were surprisingly... supportive?

"Emo boyfriend, cute girlfriend, the best combo!"

"Sending love to both of you. Hope you're doing well. We support you."

"I'm very pleasantly surprised."

"This is literally like Hello Kitty and Batman meeting this is crazy"

But as he scrolled deeper, he found more obscure comments.

"Feel so bad for [Name]. Her boyfriend is a freak."

"He doesn't deserve her."

And the nail in the coffin:

"No wonder they kept it a secret. I'd hide it too if someone like that was my boyfriend."

Why did you keep your relationship with him secret? Jake knew the answer to that: you just wanted to keep your personal life private.

But as Jake plunged himself deeper and deeper into the hole that was the media, he could only imagine alternative answers, and one stuck out.

Were you ashamed of him? 

Of course you would be.

You were beautiful in every capacity and just the most perfect person in the world. And Jake was just himself. You were always cute, and sometimes, Jake felt like he couldn't keep up with you. You were far out of his league. His content was considered "niche" and "obscure," of course people, maybe even you, considered him a freak.

He was a bastard, and you were a princess. He didn't blame you for being embarrassed about him.

That's why you were so anxious and against your relationship being exposed, right?

No, no, no!

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Jake thought, his hands balling into fists. You wouldn't. He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you would never be embarrassed about him. You weren't like that, and he was a fool for even thinking of you in that way. He was being insecure and stupid.

But even so, as Jake let all the guilt, shame, anger, and anxiety settle in while he thought of an apology to you, he couldn't help but feel his insecurity seeping in.

You knew that you were overreacting. You shouldn't have left Jake in there all alone, you should have sat down and talked to him about it.

But there was something scary about having everybody's eyes on you at once, scorning you. You were a Youtuber, of course you knew what it felt like to be watched, but to have the entire internet so hellbent about your personal life made you jump into your own skin.

You just took a walk along the early city streets, you reflected upon yourself.

Why did you keep your relationship with Jake secret? 

Part of it was privacy. You didn't want the internet to interfere with your personal life, of course. 

But it wasn't like you wanted to hide your love for your boyfriend forever. It wasn't like you wanted to stow him away somewhere no one could find him. You were both adults, and you had to start living at some point.

You'd be lying if you said that you never thought about making a cute video with him, if you said you never wanted to post a cheesy anniversary picture on Instagram with a long caption just for him, if you said you never wanted the world to know that Jake Sim was yours.

You remembered the first time you and Jake talked about keeping it private. He was unsure, but because he cared so much about you, he agreed. Had you ever stopped to think about how he felt? You may have wanted to keep your relationship quiet, but did he? To a degree, there was something selfish about you, both now and in the past. You wanted to preserve yourself and your feelings, but you never even considered how Jake felt.

You were afraid, you felt vulnerable and too exposed to the world. But you cared far more about Jake than those fleeting emotions. Desire outweighed fear, you had to see him now.

But as you marched back to your hotel, your mind racing as you came up with paragraphs of words that you'd spill to Jake, you began to notice your worst nightmare.

A group of men, each with massive cameras that had even bigger microphones. 

They called themselves the paparazzi, but they were really only middle-aged men that made money off of being invasive towards people half their age.

Maybe you should have worn a hat, or something, as you were in a camera-infested area that was even more infested with celebrities and influencers. As they approached you, you quickened your steps, trying to get as far as you could from them. You tried your best not to make eye-contact, but alas, they got to you before you could escape.

"[Name]?" one of them called out your name, practically running to you.

Oh my god, you thought, ignoring them as you sped up. Please not right now.

"[Name], are you dating Jake Sim?" The sound of your boyfriend's name out of their mouths made your stomach churn. You kept walking, but you could feel them pointing their massive cameras at you, taking any measure to make a buck off of you.

You had a few choices.

You could make a run for it. Though, you had about six men double your age who would probably chase you down.

You could also give in to them, and give very vague answers. That would require a lot of patience, and simply, you wanted to go kiss your boyfriend, not talk to these so-called paparazzis.

Your last option was the one that seemed the most appealing, but could stir the pot of the media even more and it would give the tabloids what they wanted: you could tell them off and shut them down completely. The only issue was that you were the cutesy, sweet, Sanrio Hello Kitty girl. You've talked about adult topics before, but for you to be hostile and mean to another person? That was completely unheard of to anyone on the Internet. It would also be very reactive, and the media could twist that into something more.

But you wanted to get out of there.

You wanted to go see Jake. If you had to throw a few curse words at people if it meant that you could go home to Jake, then you'd use every curse under the sun.

"[Name], everyone is saying that your relationship with Jake Sim is real and not a publicity stunt. Any comment on that-?"

You were getting irritated.

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder.

"Will you fuck off?" Your gaze hardened on the group of men shoving cameras in your faces. You didn't even bother looking into the lens. "It's 10 in the morning, I don't have time for this."

"We didn't mean to offend you, [Name], we just wanted to know your relationship with Jake Si—"

You huffed to yourself, rolling your eyes. They loved acting polite only to violate your privacy. 

"Cut the bullshit, okay?" you narrowed your eyes. You were only a few meters from the hotel entrance, and they were still stalking you with their massive cameras. How shameless. 

Your anger was bubbling up inside you. It was rising, rising so much that you could feel it attempting to spill out of your mouth.

"You want to make a quick buck off of me so bad?" You stepped through the hotel doorway.

If the media was so curious about your life, and if they wanted to go so far as to try to disrupt your relationship, you wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

Everyone loved seeing what you were doing, everyone loved to watch you. It was your job to put on a show, to give people what they wanted. If you wanted to live, then you'd have to accept that.

You were an influencer, a micro-celebrity. You could make tides move if you wanted to. Why be so fearful of the eyes of so many?

But more than anything, you were a performer. And if that's what they wanted from you, that's what they'll get.

"Fine," you huffed. "I'll give you a story: me and Jake have been together for six years. In fact, we met each other in high school when he was my Physics lab partner. Go investigate that, won't you?"

With that, you slammed the hotel entrance door in their faces.

Jake swore he heard the trumpets of heaven when the hotel room door cracked open, revealing you.

He'd been waiting in front of it for a while now, and he jerked up immediately as he saw your face. He jumped right to his feet, ready to spill every word he thought of on you. You deserved an explanation.

But all you did was raise your hand, silencing him instantly. Instead, you took off your shoes, took his arm, and pulled him with you to the bed. You motioned for him to lay down, and did so yourself.

Jake stared at you like you were insane. Were you not going to yell at him? Why weren't you hitting him or telling him that you wanted to break up with him? Should he be on his knees begging you to stay at this point? But he complied (because of course he did, it was you).

You laid on his chest in silence, pressing your cheek up against him. 

That made his mind wander.

Maybe you were trying to ease him into a hard conversation. Maybe you were going to forget this until later.

He didn't want that. No, you deserved to hear what he had to say. If you were going to leave him, Jake wanted to say everything that he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Jake blurted. The silence was deafening, before you took a deep breath, turning over onto your stomach so that your chin laid on his chest.

"What for?"

The gentle look in your eye as you looked at him made Jake choke up himself. He had to hold back or he'd start sobbing.

"For going against your wishes a-and..." Jake searched through his mind for all the words he practiced, but nothing came to mind. Not with you looking at him like you still loved him. "And for telling people about our relationship. I—I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry for disrespecting the promise w-we made.... And... And—"

Jake sucked in a loud, sharp breath. His eyes were getting watery. He took your hands in his, squeezing them. 

"And I know that you're ash—ashamed of me, and I know that y-you won't— you won't want to be with me anymore, but—"

"Wait what?" you interrupted him, squeezing hands back. "I'm not ashamed of you, Jakey."

Jake stared at you.

Jakey.

"I'm not breaking up with you either. What makes you think that?"

The gate that was holding back Jake's emotions broke.

Jake let the tears that he tried so hard to hold back roll down his face. He let out a sob before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

You didn't hate him? You still wanted to be with him?

You instantly threw your leg over his hips, straddling him as you pulled his head to your chest. He melted into your touch, his wet face hiding in the crook of your neck. You pet his hair, pressing kisses to the crown of his head.

"Baby," you whispered into his ear gently. "Why are you crying?"

Jake's crying only got louder, and you couldn't help but giggle. He was a total softie. The way his hold around you tightened told you enough.

Jake sniffled through his words, cutting himself off every now and then with a hiccup and more sobs. "Th-Thought you were gonna l-leave me."

Your fingers stopped in his hair. "Leave you? Why would I?"

Jake pushed his face back into your shoulder, shaking his head.

You let him cry like that for a little while longer, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear as you patted his back. 

And when he was ready, the two of you talked it out, because that's what people did when they loved each other. You exchanged apologies, explained to each other your thought processes, and created an agreement: start anew, and you both didn’t mind that your relationship was now public, and if either of you disagreed, you had to voice it immediately. You ended it with a kiss.

You clicked the camera on, checking in the viewfinder that you were in-frame. You were back at home, the pink Hello Kitty decorations in your room, as well as the scent of strawberries, surrounding you. 

“Hi, everyone!” you smiled brightly, clasping your hands together. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all. How are you?”

You chatted about a few updates since Vidcon, telling about your wonderful experience there and how you were so happy to meet all your fans.

“Now, onto the video!”

You peered to the side, where you spotted Jake sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting intently for your cue.

“Oh, Jakey!” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Come out now!”

With that, Jake popped into frame, dorkily saying a quick hi before plopping down onto the chair beside you.

“Today, I will be doing my boyfriend’s makeup!” you chirped happily. “Are you ready, boyfriend?”

The two of you shared a grin.

“Of course, girlfriend.”

[mistywaves98]

Okay.... but like, consider merman/siren (Not the bird kind of siren.) Scara sinking our ship and eating our crew. But we're a woman disguised as a man because they used to not let women on ships. He only eats men so when he notices we're different he takes an interest in our body, mainly our boobs? I don't know- just a random thought I had while trying to concentrate during biology. Can be read as a drabble/brainrot or a request. Whichever you'd prefer to read it as<3

This is a very interesting concept ngl 😮 also this was not as great as I'd hoped it would come out..

✧･ﾟ:* ->Siren! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: (sort of) NSFW, Just him being entranced by your chest, Nipple sucking, Making out!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Smut written by a minor!

You had just begun to feel like everything was going according to plan until your ship was attacked and your crew disappearing beneath the water, only to resurface as mangled corpses. The water around you was a horrible mix of blood and guts as you clung desperately to a floating piece of board that passed by.

You couldn't see anything beneath you, it was just water that went deeper for miles. Suddenly, a webbed hand shot up behind you and covered your mouth. A shape emerged alongside it and you felt a firm, wet chest against your back. Another arm wrapped around your upper torso as a raspy voice whispered into your ear,"Looks like I missed one.."

You thought this was the end, and didn't even bother to struggle since you knew it was futile. This creature was going to turn you into one of the dismembered bodies that were still somewhere nearby. However, you didn't feel yourself pulled underwater. The hand on your chest suddenly moved, slowly tracing the curve of your breasts through your clothes. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed as the creature you assumed to be male straight up groped you.

Suddenly, you felt sharp nails dig into your shoulders as the webbed hands spun you around, giving you a clear view of your 'attacker'. Slit pupils bore holes into your chest as he studied you with a furrowed expression. There were fins in place of his ears and his indigo hair seemed to flow around him despite being dripping wet. His eyes then darted up to your face, his glare piercing you.

"You...you're not a man." He said in a flat tone. You slowly nodded your head,"You're right, I'm a woman... Aren't you going to eat me?" "Eat you? Don't be an idiot, I don't eat female humans," he scoffed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world,"...especially not such lovely specimens such as yourself..." his voice suddenly dropped an octave and a dark expression came over his face. He leaned in a bit, his nose almost touching yours,"You know that you're trespassing by sailing here, right? That's why I killed your crew as a punishment for disturbing my peace. But I won't kill you, though. I already have an idea of what I'll do to you..." His eyes flickered downwards for a split moment and you blushed in embarrassment as you caught onto his meaning,"O-Oh... Well I suppose I am in the wrong... Punish me as you see fit."

Your top was tugged open, even torn in some places due to the enthusiasm of his claws. His scaly tail curled around your lower body beneath the water to hold you still as he lowered his head down till it was level with those soft mounds now covered in droplets of water. Moans keened from your throat as he hungrily began to suck on your left nipple, pointy teeth grazing the already erect bud, eliciting a soft yelp from you.

Your hands weaved their way into the damp hair on the back of his head, tugging him closer,"Mmm...you're so eager, aren't you my little captain?" He teased with a smirk as he released your nipple with a pop and pulled back a bit. Your hands came down to grasp his shoulders as his hands moved up to toy with your breasts, squeezing and kneading them between his webbed hands. The sensation was strange yet pleasurable at the same time and it left you breathless and flushed in the face.

The siren seemed to notice how you seemed to writhe even more when he occasionally gave your nipples a light pinch,"These are so sensitive... Yet they taste delicious. I want to taste more of you." With that, he dove in and captured your lips in an intense kiss. His hands brought you closer, one holding the back of your head to ensure you didn't pull away. You moaned as you felt his tongue snake its way into your warm mouth. It was so sleek and long, practically choking you with how deep it reached, yet it felt so amazing, you didn't want to pull back.

However, the kiss inevitably ended when you needed to breathe. He licked his lips as he watched you catch your breath, appreciating the sight of your exposed chest heaving with every inhale,"Your mouth tasted even better than I imagined. I bet there's other places that would feel absolutely divine on my tongue...but for now I'm satisfied. But don't think that means I won't be coming back for you." He suddenly scoops you up in his arms and makes his way to the beach nearest to the mainland.

As expected of a siren, you arrive there in a matter of minutes. Once you get close enough, you decide to part ways and swim the rest of the way, but before you go he says,"The name's Scaramouche by the way. Remember it for our future encounters." After that final goodbye, he disappears beneath the water and you vaguely make out a dark shape heading back out to deeper waters. As you sit on the beach, attempting to cover up your torso so it looks somewhat decent, you can't help but think that you'll be venturing to that part of the ocean a bit more often now, but on purpose this time.

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 11 : lil guy meet the sworn brothers

Now the brotherhood understand everything a lot better! Mini Mac has been introduced!

Spring was in full swing, the breeze carried the airy scent of blooming flowers and the sky oscillated between clear and cloudy. Macaque was sitting just outside of the waterfall, enjoying the warmth of the declining day while it lasted. He wasn't daring enough to go, alone, in the lush forests of Flower Fruit Mountain. But since he managed to befriend most of the monkey cubs, he felt more at ease, less threatened. As such, sometimes, he sat just outside of the water-curtain cave, on the rocks that led to the waterfall. He was fond of the rock's freshness and liked to look at the clear water rippling. He also enjoyed the sky. Dusk and midnight were his favorite times to sit outside, he found beauty in those fleeting moments of peace. Sometimes, he would also accompany Sun Wukong and delve deeper on the mountain. The golden-furred monkey liked to show him his favorite spots to nap and his prefered peach trees. Macaque would sit on his shoulder and let himself be taken, enjoying the free ride.

Macaque looked up, admiring the last rays of light, before rising and stretching himself. He turned around when he heard a rustling coming from the forest before him. He was on guard for a second before huffing after recognizing the sound of the step. Sun Wukong came out of the forest, his face brightening when he caught sight of him.

“Hey, Mac!” Greeted the sage as he walked towards the lil guy and crouched before him. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” Shrugged Macaque “Weren't you supposed to head towards one of those fests with your sworn brothers?”

“Yeaaah, about that.” Nervously chuckled the sage, he averted his eyes and mumbled : “Usually we don't have those fests here… but our usual spot was trashed and I kinda, maybe, invited them?”

“Why are you so nervous about it?” Asked Macaque with a raised eyebrow.

“I know you think we're too loud.” Muttered Sun Wukong with flushed cheeks.

“It's your mountain, Wukong. You do whatever. I'll just be in the mansion.” Replied Macaque, even if he did dislike their loudness, he wasn't going to forbid the brotherhood’s entry on Flower Fruit Mountain because of his sensitivity. Sun Wukong was the King of this place, he was the one to decide this sort of matter.

“Hey, you wanna join us?” Proposed Sun Wukong the second he saw Macaque turn around to regain the water-curtain cave.

“I'm not one of your sworn brothers though?”

“It's fine! They're not gonna mind!” Quickly replied the sage with a blinding smile, already excited at the prospect of having Macaque beside him in a fest. Macaque was on the verge of refusing, he didn't like people in general, especially giants, but he stopped himself once he saw how excited Wukong was. The black-furred monkey sighed and awkwardly scratched his neck.

“I'm not… staying the whole night. And set the table near the cave.”

“Of course! Of course!” Giggled Wukong with a thrashing tail, he took one of his hair and blew on it to create a table, he then placed it a few meters away from the waterfall, in a nearby meadow. Macaque followed him and climbed the table as Wukong was bringing wine, chairs and different kinds of fruits. Wukong eyed him as he sat on the table, leaning on the back of his chair with a foolish smile.

“What?” Asked Macaque with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing, nothing.” Chuckled the sage. “I'm just… glad we're friends.” Macaque huffed, faking discontentment, the wind ruffled his hair for his dishonesty and he swatted it away with his hand. He was glad too, even if he could never fully admit it. Mayhaps one day he would. Sun Wukong chuckled at his behavior and created a silk napkin with one of his hair for him to sit on.

The brotherhood arrived shortly after, Macaque recognized them easily, their voices already familiar with how much the wind carried their conversations. Sun Wukong greeted them with bear hugs and laughter.

“Guys, I brought the… person I talked to you about!” Excitedly chirped Wukong, he went behind Macaque and gestured at him as if he was some sort of grand treasure. “This is the Six-eared Macaque!”

They had various reactions to his presence. The lion eyed him up and down as if he had trouble believing what he was seeing, the bull was chuckling as if he just realized a long time joke, the bird was scowling at the golden-furred monkey and the elephant looked like he was hit by a sudden epiphany.

“Well that explains a few things, I'm Azure Lion, a pleasure to meet you.” Chuckled the blue-furred lion as he sat around the table.

“Hm… You can call me Macaque.” Awkwardly replied the lil guy as he nodded at the lion. The rest of the brotherhood greeted him with various levels of inquiry. They began pouring themselves glasses and took various fruits and dishes. Sun Wukong conjured a thimble with one of his hair and poured some wine for Macaque before filling his own glass.

“I never thought I would see you pouring someone glass in my life.” Snorted the golden-winged Peng with a little smirk. Wukong looked up at him with narrowed eyes while Macaque raised an eyebrow (after all, Sun Wukong always served him).

“Really? You always serve my glass or cut my fruits though.” Pointed out Macaque as he took a sip out of his thimble.

“Oh you do now, Wukong? You usually only think of yourself.” Peng smirked as he leaned over the table.

“You paint me as if I'm a selfish prick.” Huffed the sage as he took a gulp of his own glass.

“I wouldn't say selfish prick but you do have a tendency to focus on yourself, brother.” Teased the lion with a smirk of his own.

“And you usually wave your glass around enough to spill half of it on the table.” Added Bull King with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Yellow-Tusk only shook his head, amused.

“I don't always do that.” Nervously chuckled the King as he glanced at the lil guy.

“You know I have six ears, right? I do hear what you're like when I'm not here.” Snorted the Macaque as he settled more comfortably on his napkin. Sun Wukong hid a little behind his glass as the others barked a laugh.

“So Macaque, from what we heard you lived in the mansion before Wukong?” Asked Yellow-Tusk with a tilted head.

“Yeah, I was in the mansion long before Wukong.” He exaggerated a little, but the wine was pleasant and the buzz loosened his tongue.

“And the beginning of your relationship was tumultuous I guess.” Chuckled the lion.

“A little.” Admitted the macaque with a nervous chuckle. “But he's my friend now.” He ended, a bit more firmly, Wukong's tail thumped against his own chair at those words. Macaque didn't react much, he was already used to his thumping. The brotherhood raised their eyebrows and snorted at their littlest brother's reaction.

“So did Wukong tell you about all his adventures?” Asked Peng with a smirk.

“Sometimes.” Shrugged Macaque, he turned towards the fruits for a second but brushed aside the idea, he was feeling too lazy to cut them into fitting pieces for him. Sun Wukong noticed his glance, he took one of the mangoes and cut some pieces for him. Macaque thanked him for this and ate happily, tail swaying in joy. When he looked up he found Wukong watching him with a beaming smile.

“Did he tell you about the time he was stuck with pink fur for three days because of an argument with a spirit?” Chirped Peng. Sun Wukong strangled himself with his wine and glared at the bird.

“Oh no, I never heard of this, do tell.” Snickered Macaque as he leaned forward, Sun Wukong hid himself in his hands in embarrassment.

All in all, Macaque thought that it was a rather fun night.

+cut scenes

SWK *with the brotherhood* : 😈🤩😛

SWK *with Macaque* : 😇😆🤗

Brotherhood inner thoughts when they saw Macaque :

Azure : Suddenly a lot of things makes sense 😌

Peng *look at Wukong* : Oh I'm gonna embarrass this man so much 😈

Yellow-Tusk : I didn't know such little macaque existed 🤔

DBK : I have to be careful to not accidentally crush him 😑

SWK *once Macaque left the fest* : I can't believe you guys said all that stuff! 😣

Peng : It's our duty as brothers 😌

Wind : sooo, how did the fest go? You said you didn't like the brotherhood much before. 🤔

Macaque : I still think their plan is idiotic but they do have interesting stories 😌

Wind : Ohhh, spill! 😏

*the Wind and Macaque then gossiped about SWK silly antics for the rest of the night.*

SWK and Macaque during one of their outing :

Macaque : Hey it doesn't bother you if I sit on your shoulder? You walk too fast. 😑

SWK : yeah, sure! 😃

SWK inner thoughts : ahjdhnklzl, he's on my shoulder!!!! 😆

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[auspicioustidings]

The Gentle Duchess

Blue Blood Part 4

Summary: Continuation of the Blood Druid. Johnny finally teaches you about the things you want to know.

Word Count: 3.3k

CWs: Smut, just shameless smut (which I am still a beginner at so my sibling in Christ temper your expectations)

“Aye, I can teach ye. Good students dinnae yell at their teachers like that though, dae they? I ken ye’ll have been raised with all sorts of those nice gentle manners, so ask again nicely hen” Johnny said, looking down at you sat on the bed with no end of heated mischief in his eyes. 

You had been raised with those nice, gentle manners. You had a reputation as such, the Gentle Duchess who was rarely ever seen at social events but always mild tempered when she did appear. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Powerful father so a decent prospect for marriage, no brothers. You had been ok with that, it wasn’t a bad thing to be known for being gentle. But right in this moment you understood the call to bloodlust that men at war held. You wanted to strangle this strange creature.

“Good teachers do not tease their students sir” you replied, curt and proper. 

Something of an animal came across him when you had called him sir. You had meant it to be mocking, anyone of good breeding would know it was an insult being said in such a tone. But it affected him in some way that was frighteningly exciting. 

“Ye want tae know whit it’d really be like if I wis teasing ye my lady?” he replied, voice seeming deeper now, the last two words coated in syrup. 

He had leaned forward, putting his hands to either side of you and caging you in. Your heartbeat quickened and you felt a confusion in your blood, fighting to rush to either your cheeks or between your legs. Johnny watched in delight as you naturally leaned back, not even realising you were doing so until you were braced on your forearms, him continuing to follow to stay right in your space. 

It was delicious watching you rebel for what was probably the first time in your life. He had met many women from the nobilities of these silly little Kingdoms, none quite as sheltered as you. And yet there was such a fight in you wrestling to get out. He knew it had always been there, knew that this was destiny for you to fall into their laps. He would bring out that fight, let you sharpen your nails on his skin and whet your teeth on his blood. 

“Perhaps you should reevaluate your surety that you could truly tease me” you said, trying your best to emulate the way you heard the vipers of different social events speak. Polite in the most cutting of ways. 

“Such a sharp tongue on ye” he grinned, putting a firm hand to the centre of your chest and giving one strong push.

With a soft oof you found your back on the bed, arms no longer holding you up. He readjusted, bringing one knee to rest on the small space at the edge of the bed between your legs and bracing one hand beside your head. The other he brought to your lips, two fingers bullying their way past to massage at your tongue. 

“Cannae believe such a pretty wee mouth would gie me such an attitude” he cooed.

Your head may have been getting a little hazey, the sink into that floating space you had discovered this past couple of days feeling imminent, but you steeled yourself. You bit down, feeling a little satisfaction when he hissed and pulled his fingers away, shaking them out. Johnny was indulging you a little, he knew your bite had been controlled, gentle. You didn’t have it in you just yet to try to hurt him. He wondered if you ever would, but he thought it might be a good thing that your nature was more to be docile and gentle. He was more than sure he could push you to be mean, but for Simon a gentle love would be perfect. 

“If you are not going to teach me, then I would prefer you go and play with someone else.”

“You bit me, feral wee thing.”

You tried to stop from going bright red, not able to stop it. Feral wee thing. You had never dreamed anyone would even have a passing thought to think of you in such a way. It made you feel a rush of heady satisfaction. Is this how a pampered cat must feel when it finds cause to sink its claws into something? The reminder that under all those frills and laces and poise there was still a predator?

There was a desperate want in you. Oh how you wanted and wanted and wanted. You wanted to bite him again to see him hiss, you wanted him to bite you so you could feel the sting. You wanted him to touch you. Oh Gods you wanted to touch him. You wanted to stop fighting and beg to touch him, show him how gentle and compliant you could be and have him coo sweet praises at you for it. You wanted to fight and fight and fight until he forced compliance out of you. 

Johnny could see you at odds with yourself. He was pushing you he knew, probably too far too fast. How irresistible a temptation it was when it flushed you so, had you erratically grinding down on his knee without even realising it. Had your hands fisting the sheets, white knuckled in an attempt to keep from losing control and touching him. Touching yourself. Fuck, the little whine that had left you unbidden at his words had him painfully hard. 

But there was another feeling aching away in his chest. His brothers in arms were 3 men he loved fiercely, he would call down the Gods to burn the world for them. Simon Riley especially. The man who had understood what it was like to be looked down on. When Johnny had first let Gaz talk him into joining the Duke’s little team, he had only done it because he thought the Prince was a bonnie thing he wouldn’t mind corrupting and because he wanted to see more of the world. It was Simon who noticed the way people would treat him. Like some untamed savage.

He enjoyed it for the most part, but it got lonely after a while to have everyone be scared of you. And then the big eejit in a mask had started dragging him to spar with the other soldiers, had goaded him into bantering little arguments at dinner where the servants in earshot could hardly hide their laughter, had told fantastical stories to wide eyed children about how Johnny’s homeland had cù-sìths and kelpies and unicorns and all sorts of magic bubbling away that had them constantly bothering Johnny to tell them all about it. He admitted he enjoyed telling them all about his home, treating them with ghost stories and tales of grand adventure.

It was only when he realised all at once that the people around here smiled at him in greeting that he had been fully aware of Simon’s cleverness and quiet care. The man was a monster on the battlefield, but so few saw that he was also fiercely loyal and he protected those he considered his. Looking at you, knowing that soon he would be giving you to the man who so fully deserved you, had his heart singing. 

You would so perfectly compliment him, be the gentle place his heart could rest. Johnny felt such a rush of love for you then, the same warm light he got when communing with his Gods. He sent up a quick prayer, a thank you for sending you. 

“Your aroused wee yin, that’s what this is.”

“What?”

“Ye wanted teaching naw?” he said, steady and encouraging as the bitten hand was placed on your waist, giving a warm squeeze. “This feeling, it’s arousal. This divine wee body wants touching, needs something inside.”

You heard your little noise this time, a startled note. You had tried to put your finger inside, it had felt foreign and uncomfortable. The Prince and the Duke hadn’t… well there was the Duke’s clever tongue. It made you see stars. Did it need to be a tongue? 

“I tried that” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes out of shame.

You jolted when he pressed his lips against your jaw, kisses peppering over you and down to the neckline of your dress. The hand at your waist dragged leisurely down, rucking your dress up to your thigh before pausing there. He pulled his lips away.

“Look at me please.” 

He had asked so achingly sweetly that you had little choice in the matter, meeting his eyes. He was different somehow, no less intense but the intensity was different. Softer in a way that was terrifying for a reason you couldn’t name. 

“Fuck. Tha thu bòidheach” he said, almost breathless. 

“I don’t…”

“Let me touch ye. Let me show ye how to feel good.”

Gone was the teasing, he seemed so sincere now. And he wasn’t pushing you either, the hand on your dress paused. With the others there hadn’t been anytime to really think about it. You had been overwhelmed with sensation. But now he gave you time, gave you a quiet moment to decide if this was something you wanted of him. And still, still you wanted.

“...please” you whispered, not even sure if the word was audible.

“Ok mo leannan, I’ve got ye. Going tae undress you.”

And undress you he did, achingly softly, until you were bare on the bed. He moved you with gentle touches to be fully laid out so he could straddle you and press his forehead to yours with an affectionate headbutt that made you scowl and butt him right back, causing him to chuckle lightly and nuzzle on you.

“Still my feral wee thing.”

He started trailing kisses from your jaw again, this time not meeting any fabric to stop him from continuing down to the swell of your breasts. His hand was firm on your stomach keeping you pressed down into the plush bed as he swirled his tongue around one of your nipples. Your body tried to arch without your permission and you nearly choked on your own saliva at the sharp gasp of pleasure escaping your lips. 

“I… I can feel it between my legs. Ah! I-it’s like there is a path between them” you rambled, trying to fight against the urge to just lose yourself in the sensation so you could understand.

The wet pop of his mouth leaving you was obscene.

“Aye, to here” he said, hand coming to cup you. “Lots of names people call this.”

“His highness he- oh Gods I don’t- c-cunt! That’s what he called it.”

“Fuuuck. Never sounded so pretty a word before now. Whit did his royal pain in the arse call this then?” he asked, finger delving in to press at your clit.

“He called it my clit. Please!”

“Come on wee yin, use your words.”

“I - I don’t know!”

It was driving you wild, his fingers just sitting there pressing. Not moving. You were trying to wriggle as best you could with his other hand still holding you down, trying to get anything. You thought you might cry.

“Aye ye dae. Dinnae be a brat, tell me whit it is ye want.”

You lashed out, small hand grabbing at his hair and sharply pulling as you bared your teeth at him. You hated being called a brat and he had done it twice now. You were a Duchess, demure and proper. If anyone was being a brat it was him. He brought this out in you, this beast. If he was so determined to act like it was somehow you being the problem here then he could do something about it. Oh, wasn’t that a thought that got your blood hot.

“Move your fingers. Use your tongue. Do something!”

His pupils were blown out and he was panting like a dog at the little attack, baring his teeth right back with a feral grin. 

“I’ll allow it my lady, jist this once. After ye get married, ye try that again and I’ll bend ye over and fuck your arse silly while the Prince eats out your cunt. Ye’ll be begging for us tae let your husband come take whit’s his by the time we’re through with ye.”

You didn’t fully understand, but it made you want to fight even more nonetheless. He still wasn’t moving his damn fingers. Deliberate of course on Johnny’s part. He had really thought he could be slow and loving with you, but he adored you spitting mad like this. You were so haughty, refusing to beg him pretty. He knew that Simon and Price would probably spoil you completely, it would be him and Gaz who would work you up like this, get you fighting.

“You insufferable man! I will not beg anything of you” you snapped, yanking him down so you could kiss him.

It was a battle more than anything, all tongues and teeth. The sounds were lewd and you did not care, only relishing in a small victory when he had to move his hands from between you to balance himself and you could wrap your legs around him, rolling your hips to get that friction he should have just given you in the first place. He moaned loudly into your mouth and you felt a hard length pressing into you beneath the heavy fabric of his kilt. It startled you enough to loosen your grip on him, allowing him to pull his mouth from yours, both of you panting and staring at one another.

“Did Gaz teach you the name for it?”

“He… I think he touched it, but he wouldn’t let me see.”

“Selfish Prince hm?”

Your legs tightened around him when he went to move off of you, not understanding. He gave your neck a small nip with his teeth which made you yelp and he used the distraction to pull away and stand. You turned to your side to look up at him in what you had wanted to be anger, but was more akin to looking like a kicked puppy. When he started to unwind the fabric covering him, you watched with fascination. 

You could not look away from the heavy weight between his legs, hard. He wrapped his hand around it and you saw that it was leaking, his thumb catching on that liquid to slick himself up.

“Cock gets hard like this the same way that pretty cunt gets all wet,” he said, fist continuing to pump slowly. 

“May I…?”

You weren’t sure how to ask exactly, but your curiosity had cooled some of your fight. You wanted to touch him the way he was touching himself, see what it felt like. You swallowed thickly, salivating with the image of putting your tongue on him. Would it feel for him the way the Duke had made you feel? He held his hand out to yours and when you took it guided you to hold him. 

It was velvety, hotter than you thought. Sticky. His low moan made your bones rattle. You could die to hear him do it again. You shifted forward to taste it and the noise you were rewarded with made you believe in his old Northern Gods. 

“Fuck, pretty little tongue feels perfect. You’re perfect” he groaned. 

For some reason those two words made you squirm far more than any filth that he could have come out with. He carded a hand through your hair and moved your head back from him, groaning.

“Turn around mo leannan.”

You didn’t follow the instruction immediately, confused and stubborn. But you didn’t resist when he just took your body and turned it as if you weighed nothing to him. You were laid on your side facing away from him and his body joined you, chest against your back. His arm landed heavy on your hip, hand coming around to finally touch you like you had wanted. 

“Touch yourself the way I’m doing, I’m going tae move my fingers to put them inside. Need ye tae relax.”

You wanted, you wanted, you wanted. If he was going to give you what you wanted then you could do what he said without complaint, fingers bumping against his sweetly as you took over. He readjusted your legs, pushing his cock between your thighs making you moan at the heat of it. When he was able to rut slowly he finally dropped his fingers to your opening, pushing one inside.

It felt different to when you had done it. It felt so hot and tight and wet and you could feel your walls trying to milk his finger. 

“So tight. So hot and tight and perfect. Fuck taking it so pretty aren’t ye mo leannan? This was made for a cock, that’s whit I meant by saying I wisnae going tae take your maidenhood. The first cock in ye should be yer husbands in this Kingdom. Fuuuck, bunch of bastards. If ye were from the Northern Isles wouldnae be a problem for me to be inside ye before ye married.”

Everything felt blindingly intense, but it felt like you were on a thin line between that and a fuzzy softness. Like if you just gave in to it, you could leave your thoughts to the wayside and just feel. You resisted, too busy buzzing with the singular thought that one finger was already making you feel desperately stretched and full. A cock inside you?

“I’d die if you put it inside me, s’too big. Feel so full already” you whined, grabbing one of the pillows to press your face into.

He was picking up the pace, the sound of his hard cock sliding between your thighs combined with the sound of his finger pumping in and out of you wet and only interrupted by both of your desperate noises. 

“I know, so tight. We’ll help ye, me and the Prince and the Duke. Get ye ready and excited,” he said, his words spoken right into the flesh of your shoulder where he had buried his head. 

He added another finger and you swore, not something very lady like but fuck you wanted, you wanted, you wanted. Your own fingers bumped against his again, dipping down to get more of that slick to make everything feel better. He kissed at your shoulder and you thought you could die from such a sweet little gesture.

“So good, taking it so good. Feels better already hm? Ye know that ye were made to take our cocks, can feel ye clenching thinking about it. Would ye like that? After Simon gets ye nice and full with a child let the rest of us have ye. Never going tae want for anything wee yin, we’ll take such good care of ye.”

He reminded you of Gaz, the words seemingly being spoken for himself more than you. The idea that he would find it pleased him thinking of you being taken care of was going to give you heart problems. 

It was only after you came with a scream that he really showed you how much this was affecting him. He fucked your thighs with a fury, leaving your breathless. You had taken your fingers away, choking a sob when he pulled his out and then just crying out incoherently when instead of removing them entirely he went back to your clit, the overstimulation dragging pleasure out of pain. 

“J-Johnny I can’t!”

“Ye fucking can! Cum for me again my lady” he growled.

Turned out you could and the way you howled had him cumming as well. You felt ropes of sticky fluid make a mess of your thighs and you were too boneless and dazed to question it. That was a lesson for another time, on the balance of things you reckoned school was out for the day.

[kunekojo]

What would aizen, as nodt and adult uryu(seperately ) x fem reader

Them with a size kink

Maybe reader is smaller

I gotchu :3

NSFW Size Kink with Aizen, As Nodt, and Adult Uryu x Smaller Fem!Reader

Warning: NSFW, pretty descriptive

Tags: fingering, blowjob, Size kink, dom, edging, a hint of fluff eventually

Aizen

He prefers to enjoy the size difference between the two of you by holding parts of your body. Oftentimes even wanting to see you wrapped around parts of his body 👀

His favorite sight is you, kneeling in front of him while you try to fit in as much as you can of his cock. Your lips barely wrapping around his cock makes him buckle his hips, thrusting himself deeper with each second you spend sucking. He’ll place his hand behind your head and give you a tiny impulse to take more of him which will lead to him gripping your head, moving it for you instead.

Other times, Aizen will eye you from above as he gently traces his finger against your facial features. The sight of his larger finger circling around your mouth always drives him crazy, but it's the way you partly open your lips to welcome him inside that urges him to push it.

You instinctively nibble his finger, knowing how much he enjoys it but all you can see is a simple smile covering his face.

The way he stares at you so carefully makes you feel uncertain of what he'll do but right after you're ready to take more of his finger, he shoves it down your throat, pulling it and pushing it deeper.

He's infatuated with how you can squirm and moan so much just by getting a taste of his fingers. It makes him wonder how will you deal with his cock if this gets you so wet you almost cum.

Make yourself comfortable because this man won't leave you alone for longer than you anticipated, handling your body in all sorts of positions he wants thanks to your frail frame.

He’ll tease you by fucking you with his fingers, refusing to let you cum until you're a crying mess begging to let you finish. But he loves how you clench his fingers with each orgasm he denies you

When he finally decides to fuck you, he'll effortlessly pin you to the ground, lift your ass up and spread your legs so he can brush the tip of his cock against your tight cunt until you feel close.

His tainted words about how you're all his, about how you're his favorite play thing to toy with, they make you crave for more.

You try to push yourself so you can feel his cock finally making its entrance, but it's pointless. You're helpless, you can't do anything to gain more friction but whimper for him to fuck you.

But once he hears your voice calling for him, begging him to do it already, he presses hard. You’re so good for already fitting so much of him but he's sure you can do better than that.

His slow strokes aren't deep enough but he wants to enjoy every single second of it before he'll make you more of a mess than you already are.

While you feel his pace become more frantic, he'll grab your hand and place it on your stomach so you can feel how deep he got inside of you as he shoves himself deeper and harder

As Nodt

He loves the sight of your lips barely wrapping around his head because of how much bigger he is.

He will constantly remind you how small you are compared to him, and that no matter how much you try to rule over him you won't be able.

That being said, he won't hesitate to prove it to you just by doing low-effort gestures that get you on your knees, begging for him to fuck you.

It's the way you try to convince yourself you could get on top of him that brings the dominant instinct out of him. He usually prefers getting straight to the point instead of laying too much around, playing taunting games with you but just try to push your luck and you're in for a big Time.

Truthfully, you just like messing around because of how good he fucks you when he gets like that.

You want to have control over him? He’ll fucking show you how much control he has over you just by leading your body to sit in any position he wants you to, and you take it like the good girl you are.

The sensation of his hand gripping your skin and handling it with so much ease makes you moan but once you feel just his fingers rubbing you off, you're on his knees.

See? That's all you needed to collapse into his touch so why bother every single time to fail again and again? He’ll always show you just how you can't. But now he can't go back, he wants to keep proving himself.

Shoving a finger in, your walls clench as his sharp whispers brush against your ear, telling you you can do better than that.

He's not frantic to place another finger inside until he sees you’re well-prepared to take more. But when he inserts it, it's too much overstimulation for you and you just release yourself all over his fingers.

But he won't stop, he wants to make your body cum over and over again and will use only his fingers.

Once he considers it's enough, he’ll lick the juices coating his digits, delighted with how he managed to do all that with low effort. It's only now that you're warm enough to take his cock.

Just by rubbing his head against your slick folds, he can hear you already crying his name. Oh how he loves having so much control over your body.

When he suddenly shoves himself in, you can barely hold your body with the way he pushes inside, but his hands are quick to hold all your weight while wandering all around you effortlessly.

“Take it in, take all of it in like you want to”

Your tightness makes him grunt in amusement at how you really thought your tiny words would lead to this. And when you cum once more, he can't help but pride upon his victory, placing you to rest because he can't have you overly exerted

Uryu Ishida

Uryu admits to himself that the considerable size difference between the two of you fills him with an intense need to protect you. However, that need wears a visible scent of lust every time he finds himself drawn to your body.

Every time you two find yourselves in intense moments, the height gap between the two of you urges him to treat you like the pillow princess you are but he rather prefers you towering over him instead.

It's the fact that you’re able to recognize when you've shoved yourself too deep into him that brings him a slight feeling of security.

However, Should he notice you're masking the difficulty of taking him despite the apparent expression of discomfort drawn all over your face, he'll intervene in the situation, leading your body so there's no inconvenience for you.

When he's on top, seeing your tiny frame laying below him will surge a wave of satisfaction and a need for more, but he'll constantly pay close attention to your motions.

Causing you any pain is the last thing he means to do, even when you manage to take him.

He’ll thrust with slow gentle motions, trying to look for a spot that makes you toss your head back in delight, and once he finds it, his strokes will focus on that area.

While he feels your walls clenching him, the unbearable sensation of stimulation won't mess with his worry about not hurting you. He needs you to feel as good as he does.

Will always use lube as a pre-measure despite you being soaking wet, there's never too much lubrication.

Every single time you prove to feel good, he'll shower you with praises for “taking him so well”

Once you two are finished, he'll make sure to clean your body and make you as comfortable as possible. You deserve it after all.

[faeries-child]

No place for love

(I got inspiration from Thomas Shelby's line: "Everyone's a whore, Grace. We just sell different parts of ourselves")

Pairing: Azriel x reader / (y/n) / oc

Warnings: Mentions of sex, drugs and prostitution.

Enjoy :) (I'll maybe make part two)

Azriel didn’t really prefer places like this. Not at all. Even if he, Rhys and Cassian had been really stupid and young once, the male was not going to indulge himself in those activities anymore. Azriel remembered the time when he and his brothers used to have females at the same time, in the same room. Azriel however had grown fully past that phase centuries ago. But the spymaster would play this role, if not for Velaris’ sake then for his high lord and lady. 

Before him now rose the dark and luminous red light district of the court of nightmares. The path that now opened right before him was crowded and the most unwelcoming. For when it came to the court of nightmares the so called road of lust offered far more than just satisfaction for bodily urges. Azriel could see vendors selling illegal substances, suspicious looking jars filled with dead things and he could as well see things sold, alive. Spymaster also noticed females and males alike leaning in the doors of buildings in very little clothing to cover themselves with, trying to lure people into entering. The Whole place had a sinister feeling but Azriel didn’t have any other choice than to wander deeper into the streets.

Rhysand had sent him to gather information about a mole that had been delivering crucial information to their enemies, Beron included. Spymaster had heard from an important source that his suspect visited the den of sin often. Especially a particular brothel. He had also heard that the brothel in question was one of the more expensive ones, they would provide their clients with anything that they asked for, almost anything.  

It was not hard to spot the brothel in question. Building was bigger and grander than the others surrounding it. However no females were outside luring men in. 

Building was made of stone, painted black and there were curtains in the windows, so the only thing that one could see was candles that shone through the light fabric. 

Spymaster blended into the shadows and approached the brother. Front doors were open, so one could see what really was happening inside. There was carving over the door in the wooden frame. It read: “There is no place for love here”. In Azriel’s mind that was a weird thing to be carved in the doors of a pleasure house, but that wasn’t important now. He set a foot into the building and was met with the smell of scented candles, wine and to no surprise, sex. Music could be heard, someone playing instruments, sensual tune that matched with the atmosphere of the place. There were mostly men, drinking and indulging in activities that Azriel did not stay to watch for any longer than necessary. What he did point out was that the place certainly seemed to be on a more expensive side than the brothels he had visited in the Illyrian mountains.  

“What is it that you're looking for, lord of shadows?”´

 Hearing the voice Azriel turned around, as calmly as he could. Given the amount of people in the room and the acts that were currently being committed, his shadows had a hard time sorting out what each of them were doing. So the speaker had succeeded in surprising him. 

“I’m am sure whatever you are looking for, we will be able to provide”

Speaker was a woman, not an high fae. Her ears were longer and eyes bigger. She was also dressed in very little clothing, so Azriel focused mainly on her face when he spoke: “I’m not here for your services, but I am looking for someone with important information. I am here in high lord’s name.” Female let out a short laugh, smiling in a way that Azriel could only describe as sinister. 

“In high lord’s name you say?” Female circled around letting her gaze wander around the spymaster's body. “You seem rather… uptight, but I would gladly help you to relax.” She was now reaching to touch Azriel’s wings but the male took a step back immediately after sensing the woman's intentions. “But since you’re not here to pay for them I will sadly pass the opportunity”. Woman turned to leave but Azriel opened his mouth before she had a chance to: “I will pay you a nice sum for the information I’m looking for.” 

“Now that's what I like to hear. Follow me, our mistress will surely be interested in your offer.” 

Female gave him no choice but to follow her up the grand staircase that was leading them to a corridor that had many doors on both sides and with his precise hearing Azriel could hear exactly what was happening behind those closed doors. 

The woman led him to the end of the corridor, where there were big twin doors, decorated with gold accents. Without knocking, the female opened the door and let Azriel in while following behind him. 

Room was covered in different kinds of fabrics, pillows and areas designed for lying around. Room was mostly red colored, with some gold and black accents. Air here smelled like vanilla candles and surprisingly, some kind of musk. 

Almost immediately after stepping into the room, Azriel’s focus was drawn to another female in the room. She was sitting on the ledge of the window smoking something like a cigar, but by the smell Azriel could definitely swear that the substance was way stronger and most likely, illegal. Smell of it traveled to his nose and lungs.

High fae female, well she was… The only word Azriel could think was gorgeous. Her hair was left down, curling down all the way to her back. Color of it was white, whitest that Spymaster had seen in his 500 hundred years on this world. The male also pointed out that the female was wearing practically nothing. Only a long translucent black gown that widened towards hem on her ankles. One could see everything, her wide hips and almost spotless skin. She didn’t bother looking at them. Only opening her mouth to say: “I thought I told you that I’m not taking anymore customers for today Daphne”

Azriel’s shadows seemed to delighted to hear her voice, slivering out of their hiding place to caress the shadowsingers hands and neck. 

“But I have brought someone special for you my lady” said the female whose name allegedly was Daphne. 

When the woman turned, Azriel was left gasping for air. Her eyes were the color of ice, same as the gaze that she gave him. However something seemed to spark in her as her mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Oh well, I might be able to make an exception under this special occasion.” Woman walked closer to him and Azriel for the first time in centuries felt like compromising his morals. 

“So tell me lord of shadows, what do you desire? I am sure whatever your heart wants, I will be able to provide”.

Female stopped just a few feet from him. Looking him up and down like he was a prey and somehow Azriel felt like it too.

“I do not seek what you are offering, I am here only for the information-” but Daphne interrupted him “He says that he’s here in the name of the high lord”. Azriel could sense almost a hint of mockery in her tone but let it slide since he was not looking for trouble right now. 

“Leave us Daphne, tell the girls not to bother me for the rest of the evening”

Daphne only nodded and left the two in the room alone.

“Sit” 

And to his surprise, without questions Azriel sat on the cushions that made up some kind of strange sofa. Female got closer and was now standing before him, only a few feet between them. The spymaster could smell her. Vanilla and a hint of tar. Azriel could also smell whatever the female had been smoking. 

“So if you truly aren’t here for my services, why are you looking at me like you would give up your title and all that comes with it to be with me?”

Azriel tried collecting himself and threw on a mask of calmness. “I am here to collect information about a traitor and hopefully catch him. My sources tell me that he visits this particular establishment often. The High lord-” Azriel could not finish his sentence because the female moved closer to him, too close. Before the spymaster could do anything, the female moved to his lap straddling his legs. She placed her hands on Azriel’s shoulders. “The high lord of the night court. So much does he oversee and control, but unfortunately you have come to the one of the few places that even his gaze doesn’t fall nor does his words reach.” Female continued to smile at him as she leaned close to his ear: “What power does the lord of shadows hold in a place like this, where everything is of shadows, how are you special?”

The spymaster could almost feel the female's lips on his throat. He didn’t even notice that control over his shadows was now slipping, they were traveling around her exposed thighs. 

Gathering the last drops of his control he pushed the woman gently farther away from him, so he could see her face. “The night court will pay you nicely for your information” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and not to just take the female's offer to make an exception for him. 

The woman rose from Azriel’s lap and said: “You’re no fun. But at least now you're talking my language. But what makes you think I have what you need?”

“They said that he prefers your… company. Almost exclusively.” He answered. “So can you help me?” Azriel didn’t know why he felt like… the female already knew what he was asking. It could be her face that now showed a certain kind of bitterness, maybe some sadness as well. 

The female now walked towards the writing desk on the other side of the room and leaned on it. “I might know who you are talking about. So what now, do you want me to catch him or… Oh” her face twisted in a knowing smile. “You need proof that he is the male you’re searching for-” Azriel interrupted him: “I have heard of your reputation. You get people to reveal their secrets”

“Men talk when they are happy, easy as that” She now eyed Azriel like he would be her next meal, and Azriel truly thought that maybe he wouldn’t even be opposed to that. “I will pay you-” again she interrupted him: “I don’t want money”.

His mouth tightened into a line: “Then what do you want?” 

“I want you to owe me a favor, you cannot ask what kind or when I will ask for it”

It wasn’t good deal on Azriel’s part, but he really didn’t feel like he wanted to torture anyone right now, he was tired. “Deal.”

Azriel rose and walked to the female offering his hand, which the female took without hesitation. Azriel could notice a tattoo forming on the female's fingers. The spymaster couldn’t really read the female's face, nor did his shadows provide him with any assistance. They almost seemed a little unsure of how to act around her. 

Azriel turned to leave, but his interest in the female got the best of him. “So that’s it. I know your profession, but you are willing to do this just like that?" The female's smile fell and her eyes hardened as she said: “We are all whores shadowsinger, we just sell different parts of ourselves.” 

That was that, Azriel turned and left. But somehow he could tell that this definitely wasn’t the last time he would visit her. 

Shadowsinger cursed himself, by the time he had already reached Velaris he realized that he didn’t even ask her name. 

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 18: Tomorrow

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 17

Present Day, May 1987

Julie sits down at her lunch table, unpacking her lunch and picking at the bread of her sandwich. Wondering if today is the day where she can eat all of it. Instead of just taking a few bites and throwing the rest out. Preferring to pick at the other snacks in her lunch than eat something in whole.

Hoping that she can just start acting normally again instead of really fucking weird. That when El asks her a question, she can respond without stuttering. Without reacting. That her cheeks will remain unflushed when El inevitably gives her a compliment. Her hand will stop fidgeting while she sits there, waiting for something to happen. Act nonchalant. Like nothing is wrong.

Even though a lot is. Her mind battles each day with thoughts that she doesn’t want to have. She didn’t ask for this feeling to come. Nor did she want it. But it’s here and she can’t’ seem to get rid of it. No matter how hard she tried. And she tried.

She tried doing something every time she thought of El. Something monotonous, something she hates. Like doing the dishes or taking out the garbage. To make some association in her mind that would make the crush more unfavorable than it already is.

She tried avoiding being alone with El. Only hanging out with other people around so Julie could fade into the background. There would be other things to focus on then. Things to distract from the thoughts that gave her butterflies.

She tried just ignoring it. Every time Julie thought of El, she pushed it down in the depths of her mind and tied it up. Trying to get it out of the way, hoping to leave it there to rot. But without fail, it managed to return a million times worse than it had been before.

The thing was, no matter what, it never worked. Doing the monotonous tasks only left space in Julie’s brain to wander. Think of something funny El said that made her laugh. No matter what, El made sure Julie didn’t fade into the background. Always pulling Julie to sit next to her, engaging in conversation. Falling behind with Julie when she was trailing behind the group. And ignoring it just flat out didn’t work.

It's a crazy thing. Now that’s it’s happening, Julie can say that she’s never had a crush like this one before. One where the laughter sticks in her mind so much that she tries her best to draw it out. Where the smiles shine a bit brighter than they did before, and the most miniscule of touches ignites her heart. Makes the blood rush to her cheeks and forces Julie to curl into herself. Turn away.

No one can know that this is happening. No one can know that Julie is like this. She doesn’t want to be ostracized from the only friend group she’s ever had.

Not that she thinks they would care that she likes girls. She actually knows that they would be ok with it. With half of them already asking her when Steve and Eddie are going to finally admit that they are dating, to Will coming out as gay a few weeks ago, it would be positive. What’s different is this crush on El. She doesn’t know how they would react to that. How El would react to that.

The thing about her place in this friend group is that it’s not cemented like the rest of them. They all have some sort of bond that Julie doesn’t understand. Probably will never understand. Something that connects them beyond years of friendship. Something deeper.

It’s probably connected to when Will went missing a few years ago, or to the mall fire that they were all present for. Or something completely different that makes Steve scream out in the middle of the night. Makes Robin’s or Eddie’s, sometimes even one of the kids’, voices shake when they call in the middle of the night, begging for Steve to answer. Something Julie’s grateful that she didn’t have to witness but wonder what it really was.

What was the bed thing that El couldn’t tell her that night? Why was it so bad that she’s better off not knowing? And how did these kids become so unfortunate to witness it all?

“Your hair looks nice today, Julie,” El compliments as she sits down.

She’s wrong. Julie’s hair is pulled back in a French braid, hoping that it hides the fact that she hasn’t washed it in days. The same things she’s been doing for the past few weeks. Still, her head ducks to hide the red of her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she mutters. Taking a bite of her sandwich to stop herself from talking more.

The rest of the group sits around them. Dustin sits next to Julie, probably to bug her about the next book he’s forcing her to read. Well, not forcing. They apparently have very similar reading tastes. But she’s not really listening. Stuck in some form of trance. Feeling weird about herself and staring.

It just happens to be at the person sitting across from her. That’s what she tells herself. It's not because of everything else. Definitely not because El’s outfit is really cute, and Julie wants to say something about it but is afraid that it will come off weird. Complimenting a friend is something completely natural. Normal even. But there’s a line she’s afraid of accidentally crossing. So afraid to do anything that would make El suspect that her feelings have changed.

Afraid that anyone will find out that her feelings have changed. She can’t have that happen.

“Julie,” El’s voice breaks her trance. “Can you come?”

Julie blinks, forcing her head to meet El’s eyes. “Sorry?”

“We were going to have a movie night at Max’s house tonight, can you come?”

She swallows the rejection that forms on her tongue. “Uh, sure. Are we going right after school?”

“Yeah,” Max adds. Giving Julie an interesting face. Like she can tell that something’s off with Julie. Hear the uncertainty that runs through her voice. “Some of us already have rides if you need one.”

Julie feels her body stiffening, trying to act normal. This is anything but normal. “Uh, yeah, I would. I biked here today.”

The bell rings, saving her from any other awkward interactions. She gets up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and rushing out the door. Throwing away the mostly untouched lunch on her way out.

There’s a tap on her shoulder before she makes it too far. Dustin giving her a look like he’s trying to read whatever’s going on in her head. “Are you ok, you seem off?”

Julie nods, not selling anything. “Yep, totally ok. That's for checking in.”

She turns on her heel and rushes down the hallway to her next class before he can get in another question.

. . .

Steve gets home before Julie. Heats himself up some leftovers for dinner and settles on their new couch in front of the TV. Relaxes after a long day of meetings and telling customers that no, he can’t wave the late fee just because they don’t want to pay it. Telling them very sternly that they could at least rewind the tape if they don’t want to return it on time.

It’s the only reason he’s back so late. He let Robin go home and leave him to finish up the afternoon shift. Helping out the next person working by taking all of the unwound tapes into his office to rewind in there while filling out some paperwork he’s been avoiding. Telling himself that it’ll all be worth it once he gets his paycheck.

When Julie gets home, she drops her backpack on the living room floor, dramatically falling onto the couch with a groan. He snorts, trying to hide it. But honestly, seeing her act more like herself is a relief compared to a few weeks ago.

“It’s not funny,” Julie protests, sitting up. “It is far from funny.”

“You’re right,” Steve says, trying to hold in his laugh. “Long day?”

Julie glares at him. “Yeah, long day. I can barely act right around El and now Dustin has picked up that I’m acting weird and keeps asking me if I’m ok. Which I’m not, but he doesn’t need to know that. And it’s all just,” she makes and explosive gesture in front of her, leaning back into the couch.

“Good luck, he’s not one to let things go.”

“I know. It’s basically a daily thing now asking if you and Eddie are together. Which I had promised to tell him if I knew something was going on. And now I do but it’s not my business to tell him.”

Steve thanks her for that. Not quite sure how and when he’s eventually going to tell the rest of the group about him and Eddie. He promised that as soon as the court case was over, he would. But as that date keeps slowly creeping up on him, he doesn’t know if he’ll be ready for that.

The thing was, once everyone knew about it, it wouldn’t be just his and Eddie’s relationship anymore. There would be the jokes and the talking. The reactions of how everyone thinks about it. Support and surprise. Maybe some disdain. He’s not sure.

Steve has been weird about relationships for a long time. With every relationship, it would spread like wildfire through the high school hallways. Whispers of his night life following him as he walked. At first, he liked it. Wanted the reputation to spread, wore it like the crown that metaphorically rested on his head.

But as he grew up, as his relationships became more intimate. More sacred. He didn’t like the rumors anymore. Sure, he wasn’t one to shy away from PDA. Loved to wear his heart out on his sleeve, show everyone how much a person meant to him.

It was different, though, keeping a relationship a secret. Made it more special in a way he’s never experienced before. With the way this town would react to his relationship, it would always have to be hidden on some level. Kept between their small group of people.

It’s been so long since he’s been in a semi-public relationship. He doesn’t quite know how to go about it anymore.

“Talk to him about that book he lent you, that’ll shut him up for an hour or two.”

Julie sighs. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that.”

“I have nothing else to help here, good luck.”

“It’s not like it’s all that bad. It’s kinda nice to know that he cares enough to check in, make sure everything’s ok. I just wish he knew how to give me some space until I’m ready to talk about it.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, never quite got around to teaching him that.”

He lets the silence fill the room before changing topics. “So, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. And I know you already have a lot to think about, but I want you to just start thinking about this. You don’t have to give me an answer right away.”

“Ok,” she says concerned.

“I’ve been talking with Sarah over the last couple of weeks, discussing what the next steps could be if you wanted to move forward with this. But I haven’t really filed for anything yet because I wanted to ask you first.” He takes a deep breath. Nervous for some reason he doesn’t really know. “Would you, maybe, want me to try and get permanent guardianship of you?”

“Yes,” Julie answers without missing a beat. “I would very much want that.”

Steve’s not sure why he thought she would answer any differently. “Ok, good. I would want that too.”

She smiles. “Good. What would that all mean, then?”

“Well, I’d be putting in to be your guardian, officially, until you turn eighteen. Then like everyone else, you’d be an adult and can make your own decision. But it would take going in front of a judge, proving I'm fit to fill that role. Then it would be official.”

Sarah says it would actually be a very smooth and easy process. Since Julie’s much older than most of the kids that go through this, and is already acclimated to living with him, it would be a bad decision not to grant him the guardianship. Plus, with the money that Rebecca left for Julie, she’s pretty much already cared for after high school. Steve just has to worry about getting her through until then.

Which should be fine. Now that he’s finally getting the last of the furniture, the expenses are starting to even out. There’s more money sitting in his account and his savings are starting to grow again. Everything is working out better than he planned them to.

He’s happy in this little house. With Eddie lying next to him on most nights, coming through the door before the sun goes down now that Julie knows. Julie finding her way back to herself after the roll of emotions dies down, becomes less present in her mind. Steve finally letting go of the thoughts that plague his mind, make him think that everything’s going to fall apart the minute he messes up.

And he does, no one’s perfect. But he’s found people that understand that, call him out in a way that’s needed but full of love. Full of understanding.

It’s all that Steve has ever wanted.

“So, you’d be going to court again. For this. I don’t want you to do that if it’s too stressful.”

Steve shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be. Sarah is pretty confident that the judge will look at us for twenty minutes and just sign the papers. And if it’s longer, I don’t care. I want this to happen. I don’t mind, really.”

Julie nods. “Ok, only if you’re sure about it.”

“Believe me, I am.”

. . .

Two weeks later

Steve wakes up on his birthday with Eddie’s face pressed between his shoulder blades. Arms holding his torso in a death grip. He ignores the need to get up to sit in it a while longer. The clatter of a familiar metal bowl hitting the kitchen floor breaking all hopes of staying in bed any longer.

He pries Eddie’s arms off of him, leaving him still asleep on the bed. Wandering into the hallway, he makes a stop in the bathroom before seeing what’s going on in the kitchen. Finding Julie squinting at a cookbook with a pile of ingredients on the counter.

She jumps when Steve clears his throat. “Sorry, did I wake you?” Julie tries to move in front of the counter, doing a poor job of hiding what’s behind her.

“No, I was already awake. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” She avoids eyes contact. “Why don’t you just go back to bed.”

Steve continues walking into the kitchen, watching as Julie shifts to hide the stuff behind her. He swiftly reaches behind her to grab the book, seeing it open to a pancake recipe. Julie makes a sound of protest as she tries to grab the book back.

“You’re making pancakes,” Steve says with a surprised smile. “That’s what you were trying to hide, you can make breakfast anytime you want.”

“Yeah,” Julie says, defeated. “Thought it would be nice for you to not have to make breakfast on your birthday.”

“Yeah, that would be kind of nice.” He hands the book back to Julie. “Call me if you want help.”

“I’m not completely helpless in the kitchen.” Julie rolls her eyes. “Happy birthday,” she calls down the hall as he walks away.

Steve returns to his bed. Eddie blearily pulling him close before falling asleep again. He somehow falls into a light sleep. Getting up when he hears the dishes clanking in the kitchen, each one thudding on their new table.

He shakes Eddie awake, watching as he fights to keep his eyes closed. Face squishing up in protest, rolling away from Steve and gripping the blankets close to his chest.

“Come on, Julie made breakfast.”

Eddie doesn’t move, faking snoring.

“You don’t snore like that.” Steve sighs, getting out of bed. “I’ll save you some.”

He walks back out of the kitchen, watching as Julie sets a plate piled with pancakes on the table. Finishing with pouring some coffee into mugs and pacing them at each spot.

“It looks good,” he says, startling her.

“Jesus Christ, a little warning would have been nice.”

Steve laughs, sitting down. “Sorry.”

“They’re a little lumpy,” Julie explains while sitting down. “And some might be a little burnt, but they’re good.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Steve assures, stabbing some with his fork.

Julie does the same, topping them with some maple syrup. “Is Eddie still asleep?”

It’s nice to talk about him with someone else. Act like they are a couple in his own house. Not having to keep them so secret anymore. “He’s pretending to be.”

Halfway through breakfast, Eddie finds his way to the table. Hair tangled and frizzy. He stops them from trying to talk to him until he finishes his first cup of coffee.

After breakfast, Julie insists on doing the dishes herself, almost having to push Steve out of the kitchen. But he lets her, goes to get changed so he’s not hovering around the kitchen. Eddie comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Happy birthday. Now we both can buy alcohol legally.”

Steve laughs. “That’s the first thing that you think of.”

“That’s the first thing everyone thinks of when you turn twenty-one. Not just me.”

“Sure.” Steve turns around to give Eddie a kiss. “Thank you.”

“How about we go see a movie, do something just the two of us.” Eddie releases Steve to rummage around in the dresser to find something to wear. Pointedly avoiding his own drawer to find one of the shirts that Steve had stolen. Stealing it back.

Steve pulls a polo over his head. “Is that because you want to, or because Robin told you to get me out of the house so she can throw a not-so-secret surprise party.”

“I was definitely not told to keep you far from the premises between the hours of two and five o’clock. But I could just want to spend time with you. Is that such a crime?” Eddie walks over to Steve and presses something into Steve’s hand.

Steve looks down at the metal chain in his hand. “What’s this?”

“Your birthday present,” Eddie explains, walking over to the dresser to pick up one of his rings. He takes the chain from Steve’s hand and unclasps it, threading it through the ring. “So you can wear this, if you wanted to.”

The ring is the one Eddie wears on his right hand. The silver band and dark stone. “This mean anything?”

Eddie shrugs. “Not really. Just wanted you to wear something of mine that isn’t a piece of clothing that I severely miss.”

“You won’t miss this, you wear is every day?” Still, Steve slips the chain over his head. Letting the ring settle in the middle of his chest.

“I have others, just don’t wear them that much. Plus, now I’ll never lose it because you never lose anything.”

“No, I just never throw things in a corner and expect to find it again.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Seriously though, want to see a movie? Get lunch? Literally anything?”

“Yeah, sure. A movie sounds nice.”

. . .

The house is full of unorganized chaos. Robin is frantically running around trying to make sure everything is perfect. While Dustin and Lucas keep getting into small arguments about who knows what. Max is sitting off to the side either laughing at them or telling them to shut the hell up. Mike is just sitting on the couch, refusing to do anything while Nancy keeps trying to get him involved.  The only people being helpful at all are El and Julie. And even then, they keep getting in their own way or Robin’s way.

It’s a mess. Food is haphazardly placed in the kitchen and across the coffee table. There are streamers all over the floor with only some of them making it to the ceiling. Somewhere, balloons keep popping and the music keeps being changed over and over again.

“Can you two quit changing the station after each song is played, Jesus fucking Christ,” Robin yells in the kitchen. Pouring a bag of chips into a bowl.

“I would if Lucas stopped putting the stupid sports radio on,” Dustin argues.

Lucas groans. “I’m trying to hear the scores. It’s a big game.”

“You and your stupid sports. This is a party we’re planning here.”

“Yeah, badly,” Max comments, crossing her arms.

“You can’t even see how bad it is,” Mike mutters.

Max glares at him. “I’m blind not stupid, idiot.”

“Why don’t we all just take a breath,” Will suggests, trying to calm everyone down.

Lucas changes the station again.

“Would you just-.” Dustin starts to scream. The group getting into an argument.

Julie sighs, starting to pick the streamers off the floor and handing them to El. She sticks them to the wall with an extra piece of tape, making sure they don’t fall again.

“Are we sure Steve even wants this party,” Julie asks. “The only reason I even found out about his birthday was Robin telling me two weeks ago.”

El shrugs, taking another streamer out of Julie’s hands. “I do not know. This is the first time we have ever thrown one for him. I think that is why Robin is so upset.”

“And going slightly insane,” Julie adds. Watching as she rips the radio out from between Dustin and Lucas and places it on top of the cabinets. “Did you guys really not know it was Steve’s birthday?”

“Yeah,” El takes Julie’s hand as she steps down from the chair they were using as a stepladder. “He was secretive about it for a long time. Told Dustin the wrong day and everything. We only knew the real date because Robin stole his driver’s license to find out.”

Julie’s trying to ignore the way that El continues to hold her hand when she doesn’t need it. “Maybe this was all a bad idea.”

“It’s not,” Nancy interrupts. “I told him about it a week ago.”

“What. Why?” Robin complains.

“Cause he hates surprises, and his birthday. And walking into his house looking like a tornado hit it.”

“It’s looking better,” Julie defends.

Nancy tilts her head to the side, looking over to the mess that still sits in the living room. “It could just use some finishing touches, that’s all.”

Finishing touches was setting up all of the food in the kitchen with the exception of a few bowls of chips. It was for the radio to return to the spot in the living room with the promise of it staying on one station and one station only. Nancy glaring at Lucas and Dustin until they agreed. It was Mike getting off his ass and helping straighten up. Until the party looked a little like a party.

Now they were just waiting for Steve to arrive.

“You are wearing your hair down today,” El comments.

Julie wasn’t wearing a French braid or a ponytail today. Her hair actually cooperating with her this morning, not drying in a weird wave pattern. So she wore it down. It probably won’t stay that way much longer, her hair can only get into her face so much before it gets annoying.

“Yeah,” Julie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thought I could do something different today.”

El smiles. “It looks really nice. I wish my hair was as long as yours.”

Julie looks at the short curls that crown El’s head. A colorful hairclip pulling back some of the longer bits right above her ear. “I think your hair’s cute.”

She wills the flush rising to her cheeks to calm down. It wasn’t meant in any certain way, she just felt it was true.

“Thank you, but I am still letting it grow. The longest I have ever had my hair was around here.” El places her hand right below her shoulder, showing how long it was. “I miss that hair.”

“Did something happen that made you cut it?”

The question seemed harmless, but El’s face falls. “Yes.” Is all she says.

Julie ignores the need to ask more. Thankful that the door opens, forcing the mood between them to shift.

Steve stumbles through the front door, Eddie’s hands over his eyes. Waiting for the cue to remove them. When Robin gives him the thumbs up, Eddie removes the hands on Steve’s eyes. The group yelling an out of sync surprise.

The smile that catches Steve’s face is contagious.

“Thanks guys, this looks great.”

“Thank god,” Robin dramatically says. “I was scared you were going to hate it.”

Steve throws his arm over her shoulder. “Yeah well, I did have some warning. And I can say this exceeded my expectations. It takes a lot to wrangle them to help out.”

“Not if you threaten them enough,” Nancy adds.

The party officially starts. The group forming little clumps as people get food and start conversations. Julie ends up on the couch squished on the end of the couch with El next to her.  

It feels different than the hangouts they would have in the other house. Where the rooms separation was finite, and the noise only carried so far. Here, with people in the kitchen spilling out into the living room, the sound filling the walls and probably leaking outside. Everyone feels so close, even if they aren’t directly talking to each other.

The group somehow includes her in all of this. Making a space for her, welcoming her in. It’s breathtaking how it all happened.

“What happened to your ring,” Dustin asks Eddie.

Eddie looks down at his hand, the ring he normally wears gone. He shrugs, saying something along the lines of he lost it. Steve with a smirk on his face, silently asking Eddie something. It goes unnoticed. He's about to do something.

Steve pulls at a chain around his neck, revealing the missing ring from underneath his shirt. “I think I found it,” he smirks.

Eddie widens his eyes, surprised. “I thought we were going to wait until after court?”

Steve shrugs. “Fuck that, this was way more fun.”

Dustin seems frozen, eyes squinted at the chain. Like he has to make sure that the ring is the one he was talking about. Robin and Nancy are not so silently cracking up on the other side of the room. The rest of the kids with varied reactions.

“Fucking finally,” Max says annoyed.

El leans over to whisper to Julie. “So I was right? They are together.”

Julie snorts. “Yeah, they are."

Dustin catches this. “Wait, you knew?”

Julie wants to sink into the couch. “Kinda.”

“You were supposed to tell me about this. We made a pack.”

“We did not.”

Dustin makes an explosive gesture. “Yes, we did. I said I thought something was up, you said you agreed. Then you said you would tell me if you knew anything more. You knew something and didn’t tell me about it. Breaking the pact.”

“That is not a pack, dumbass,” Max butts in. Laughing at this whole situation.

“It really wasn’t,” Julie defends. “And I just got, like, official conformation about this a little while ago. I just didn’t get around to updating you about it.”

Dustin crosses his arms. “How long was a little while ago?”

“Like, three, maybe four weeks ago.” Julie shrugs to try and lessen the impact.

“So a month ago?”

“Yeah kinda.”

Dustin gaps. “How fucking dare you.” He picks up a stray pillow and throws it gently in Julie’s direction. Missing her entirely.

Lucas starts laughing. “You make fun of me all I want for liking sports but at least I can throw a pillow and hit something with it.”

“Don’t you start right now.”

Eddie and Steve start laughing, falling into each other. Looking totally and completely relaxed.

“That went way better than I thought it would,” Eddie wheezes.

“I know right.”

A few hours later, Robin starts to slowly convince the kids to clean up. With Nancy standing behind her making sure they actually listen. It shouldn’t be Steve’s responsibility to clean up his own birthday party.

Julie’s hair keeps falling in her face every time she bends over. She finally goes to tie it back, but the elastic breaks as soon as it stretches.

“Damn it,” she whispers under her breath.

“What?” El asks, wincing when Julie shows her the broken band. “Here,” El reaches into her pockets and pulls out a barrette. Sliding it into Julie’s hair, pining half of it behind her face. “That’s better.”

Julie can feel the heat rising to her face faster than she can try to stop it. Her hand coming up to touch the barrette, it radiating warmth. “Thanks,” she says impossibly soft.

El smiles before walking away to say goodbye to Max. The party slowly dispersing.

“What was that,” Dustin asks, dumping a pile of paper plates in the trash.

Julie sighs. “Can’t you mind your own business for once in your goddamn life?”

“That’s rude. I’m just looking out as a concerned friend. You're the one who’s acting weird whenever El does-.” His face lights with recognition. “Oh my god.”

Fear shoots through Julie’s veins. “No.”

“Yes,” Dustin whispers loudly. “That has to be.”

“It’s not what you think it is.”

Dustin gets a smug look on his face. “Oh, I think it is. You’ve been acting weird for weeks,” He starts to list out points on his fingers, “but only when El is around. Whenever she gets close to you, you either start stuttering or getting cagey. Your face becomes part tomato any time she says something nice or touches you. There's only one explanation.”

Julie tugs his arm away from the group. “Would you quiet down for two seconds.” She pushes him into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“Woah, your room is nice. I haven’t seen it since the move.”

“You cannot try and make this better by changing the subject.”

“So there’s a subject to change?” He crosses his arms proudly. “You like El, don’t you?”

Julie rolls her eyes. “That’s not something you can just ask about like that.”

“But I’m right?”

“Yes, you’re right,” she exclaims, sitting on her bed. “It’s so stupid.”

Very stupid. But true.

“It’s not stupid.” Dustin sits next to her.

“Don’t lie to me just to make me feel better. It’s very stupid.”

Julie reaches up to feel the barrette again. Knowing exactly which one it is. Feeling the bumps that form the small row of multicolored flowers. Replaying the feelings of El carefully gathering the strand of hair that was too stubborn to stay out of her face. Her hand resting just a second longer than it could have. Making sure it was perfect.

“That’s one of El’s favorite barrettes. She wears it all the time,” he comments.

“I know.”

“Do you know why?”

Julie shakes her head.

“El loves wildflowers. It was one of the things she missed most about Hawkins when they lived in California, other than the town and her dad. The other people she left here. And I’m not trying to give you hope or anything, I don’t know what she’s thinking, but she only gives wildflowers to people she really cares about.”

Julie doesn’t even know how she feels about this all the time. Some days, it feels kind of good. Other days, it feels crushing. But still, the idea that El cares about her, on any level, fills her with a warmth that is indescribable. Unmatched. Something Julie’s never felt before.

Something that feels so good that she’s not sure how she ever thought it was a bad thing.

She touches the barrette again. “But it could just mean she cares about me as a friend.”

Dustin shrugs. “Yeah, it could. I’ve seen Max wearing it a few times.” He takes a breath. “But it means that El cares about you, no matter what. Even with this.”

Julie smiles. “Thank you. This has been really hard for me.”

“I’m sorry. I hope it gets better.”

“Yeah, me too.”

When El hugs her goodbye that night, Julie’s able to return it. Part of her satisfied with knowing that she has her as a friend. The other pulls just enough on her heart to make the moment sour. For the want to overshadow the joy enough to make an effect.

But another person knows. Another person accepts it. Didn’t judge her for it. Maybe soon, she’ll be able to stop judging herself for this. Making it worse than it needs to be.

Let the good feeling be the good feeling.

. . .

June 1987

Julie sits in the row right behind the prosecution stand. Eddie and Robin next to her, the rest of the kids and their families filling the rows behind them. Steve talking with his lawyer, getting the final details all in place. All of them waiting for it to start.

And for the defendant to arrive.

The sides of the courtroom were completely uneven. Steve’s side filled with people scattered through the rows. Almost strategically placed to make them seem larger. It wasn’t hard, there wasn’t a soul seated on the other side of the court.

The large doors open, three people filing down the aisle. Taking their place on the defendant’s side. The lawyer pulling out papers from his briefcase. Mrs. Harrington sitting with her eyes glazed over, looking bored. Richard Harrington staring daggers at Steve. Trying to get him to react. Do anything.

All Steve does is continue to talk to his lawyer, pretending like his dad isn’t even there.

This is the first time Julie’s seen her biological father. Having only heard of him, and seen old photographs. The ones that haunted Steve’s old house. Created an unsettling feeling once anyone walked through the door.

Now here he was, glaring, taking it all in. Stalking it like a predator hunting prey. Wanting to find the weakest link just to watch it break.

His eyes find her in the crowd. Staring. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a look back. He doesn’t deserve it.

She wonders if he recognizes her. Sees her mother’s features sewn together with his. The sharpness of her jawbone, the curve of her nose, the brown of her eyes, all from him. Mixed with the dark brown hair from her mom, the similar build, fairness of her skin. Does he see Rebecca in her? Does he hate Julie for reminding him of his past?

It doesn’t matter to her. What matters was the family he left behind. The family she knew. Her mom. Steve. Everyone else. The people surrounding her, all here to show their support for Steve. That is what mattered.

Especially now, as the judge takes the stand, and it begins.

The opening statements are made. Evidence is brought forward. Witnesses take the stand, questioned and cross examined. Each item telling a tale of a young boy that was left to his own devices way too soon.

That was the main point of the case, at least. The emphasis of the age Steve was first left alone is the heavy hitter. How he was left alone for hours on end, with an entire house to himself. No supervision. No check ins. Anything could have happened. This town wasn’t as safe as everyone thought it was.

When Steve takes the stand, having to face the questions and badgering from his father’s attorney, the jury looks pissed. As he recounts the times alone in the house, how scared he was as a kid. As the tears come to his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. Not wanting to waste a single one more on his father. Showing the strength that someone of his age shouldn’t have.

He talks about his medical visits. The concussion he was sent to the hospital for in his freshman year after a bad fall on the basketball court. Brings up the ones after he was a legal adult, while he didn’t technically need them there anymore. It still didn’t look good.

Nothing changes the reaction in the defendant. If anything, it just makes him smugger. Him not understanding how any of this was bad. How bad he neglected his son.

It wasn’t until the verdict was read that the smirk was finally wiped off his face.

It was a unanimous vote. The plaintiff won.

. . .

The first thing Steve feels when the verdict is read is relief. Freedom. It’s over.

His lawyer pats Steve on the back and explains how he’ll take care of the transfer of funds. Will call to set up a meeting once the paperwork is filled out. Steve couldn’t care less.

He was believed. He fought, and won. Richard Harrington has no hold on him anymore.

As soon as he walks out of the courthouse, he’s met with more hugs and congratulations than he can count. People who came to support him, testify for him, believed in him.

People come over to the house that’s in his name. Bought for the people he cares about. Who care about him. A drink gets passed to him, someone turns on the radio. Voices flood the house, laughter, joy. He’s having a conversation with someone. A few people. Not being able to get a smile off his face. the feeling of disbelief sitting under his skin.

Tomorrow never looked brighter than it does right now.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

[leighsartworks216]

Biological Malfunctions

Data x AFAB!reader

I rewrote this and then did not proofread it so have fun!!

Warnings: THIS IS A PERIOD FIC. THERE IS TALK ABOUT MENSTRUATION. PLEASE DON'T READ IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. Reader is described as having a uterus, but no other explicit descriptions of their gender is made. Can be read as platonic or romantic (like, the beginnings of a crush)

Word Count: 2003

Masterlist

Tag List Form

Data entered his room as he had over a thousand times before. He stepped in, making sure Spot was not by the door waiting to rush out and scamper down the hallways, and- He stopped in the middle of the room, hardly two steps in the door. Something was different. The lights were dimmed.

Data only changed the light setting in his room during Alpha shift, a ship-wide nighttime when he was usually put in charge of the Bridge, as he did not require sleep like the others. By doing so, he simulated a day/night cycle for his beloved feline friend. However, Alpha shift would not start until approximately 2 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds. Also unusual, the lights were dimmed to 20%, a setting he himself never used.

Now the question was why?

Truth be told, he was momentarily titillated by this mystery. He considered, briefly, donning his Sherlock Holmes outfit to investigate. Alas, the mystery did not last long enough for a costume change.

“Data?” a voice called from the bed-area of his quarters. “Are you back?”

The android followed the voice, as did Spot, to a figure curled under his Starfleet regulation blankets. The fabric shifted, and a face peeked out from the edge, squinting up at him. He recognized the voice, but seeing the face it belonged to absolutely confirmed it.

“Lieutenant Y/N, I did not expect to find you in my quarters.”

“Sorry,” you yawned. The blankets were warm, and clean from lack of use. They drew you in deeper, coaxing you into curling further within the cascades of fabric, warm and safe. Spot climbed on top of you and began lovingly making biscuits into your side. Data was briefly fascinated by the strange exhibition of behavior. “I needed to see Spot,” you admitted. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Your presence was unexpected, but you are always welcome here.” He met your tired little smile with a sort of grin of his own. “May I ask why you needed to see Spot? Has she done something wrong?”

You chuckled airily at the question. “No, she’s a good kitty.”

Data nodded, agreeing without hesitation, as the cat in question snuggled into a ball atop you and began purring contently.

In a softer, less comfortable tone than before, you murmured, “I needed the comfort.”

“Comfort?”

“Mhm. I’m…” A deep-rooted tree of shame ached in your chest at the thought of confessing your problems. You couldn’t help it, really. All your life since middle school, the biological issues - whether physical, mental, or emotional - you faced were heavily enforced as your problems. Even further, the most enforced rule of all was to never disclose them to men.

You would think, in the 24th century, these silly little laws of society would die.

When you did not respond after a moment (approximately 37 seconds), he understood that you may not wish to tell him. A prolonged silence in humans often reflected a sense of unease or discomfort, especially relating to conversation topics they were uncomfortable with. Your voice stopped him before he could retreat back to his computer.

The branch squeezing around your heart, pumping guilt through every channel of your body, won out over all.

“I’m going through some, uh, biological malfunctions.”

Data’s eyebrows raised, surprised by this new information. He kneeled down, positioning himself in a better position to speak with you face-to-face. “If you are feeling unwell, I suggest going to sickbay for an examination. Doctor Crusher is well-suited to a wide variety of biological issues. If you would prefer, I could ask her to visit you here.”

You nearly startled at the suggestion, speaking in a rush. “No, no, no, no. Really, Data, I’m okay. I just have to wait it out. I’ll be fine by the time you go back on shift, and then I’ll be out of your hair, promise.”

Confusion replaced his surprise. You seemed to panic at the subject of Doctor Crusher, yet you have shown no previous signs of anxiety relating to anything medical. Not to mention your strange phrase. “Lieutenant, you are not in my hair.” You found yourself relaxing once again as he rambled on about the logistics of being in his hair, a small smile finding your face once more. “A single hair is roughly 80,000 to 100,000 nanometers wide, while the average adult male is approximately 2 billion nanometers tall. To fit in my hair, you would need to shrink down to 25 times the size you are now. Alternatively, you would need to increase the size of a hair by 25 times in order to fit inside it at the height you currently stand.”

His sweet naivety reminded you of how you so easily fell into a friendship with the android. You could discuss niche topics in varying detail for hours on end and never get tired. He helped you feel like you belonged when you were just an ensign, fresh from the Academy and unsure in every step. Even now, without even trying, he grounded you and gently pushed away all of your anxieties.

Only once he was finished did you speak. “It’s an expression, Data. It just means that I won’t be in your space, or causing you any problems.”

His head tilted, cataloging the new phrase within an ever-growing list of human figures of speech. “Ah, I see. You are not ‘in my hair’, Lieutenant. If you would like, you are welcome to stay once I leave for Alpha shift. I do not mind.”

“I appreciate it.” You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes to revel in the dim light, surrounded by your best friend and his cat. The quiet sound of machinery beeping and Spot purring made it feel like home. This was not your room. “But I really should get back.”

“Would you like me to escort you to your quarters?”

You hummed, considering. “Maybe.” Data’s bed was unused, soft, and clean. It was much nicer than yours, which had a pronounced divot in the mattress after sleeping in it so long. But, you reminded yourself, you had barged into his room and made yourself comfortable in his bed, without any form of permission to be had. You were trespassing, despite Data’s all-too-welcoming attitude. Still… He was giving you a chance to stay for a bit longer. “I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality,” you opened your eyes to study his pale face, “but I don’t really want to leave right now.”

“No advantage taken. I even find your presence quite…” he paused to ensure he had the right word, “enjoyable.”

You smiled gratefully at the android. Now, more at ease than ever, your eyes slid shut and you welcomed the exhaustion that tickled the back of your mind. You pulled the blankets slightly to tuck them snugly under your chin, and even curled the blanket around your feet, effectively trapping in the warm air and sealing out the colder air beyond your cocoon.

Data watched your actions with interest. He wasn’t exactly privy to how humans slept, nor did he find the topic as fascinating as sneezing or hiccuping. The act of sleeping itself, that it. Dreams were another topic entirely. Now, though, as he watched you curl into a fetal ball, nuzzling your nose into his pillow, he wondered why he had not been interested before. For a brief moment, you curled in tighter, holding your breath. A grimace twisted your features. And then you breathed out slowly, uncurling a little.

“Lieutenant,” he pried, continuing even when you did not look at him, “your actions suggest you are in some form of discomfort. If you tell me what your symptoms are, I can look up methods to ease them.”

The branch of guilt and shame coiled like a snack around your heart once more. It was illogical to be ashamed, especially when you were talking to Data who would never be offended by anything as natural as bodily functions. The years and years of having your femininity shamed only brought you anxiety and a vague feeling of nausea. He wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t be disgusted.

“I’m menstruating.” For such a small admission, you wanted to crawl within yourself and die surrounded by your shame. You kept your eyes firmly shut, pressing your face into the pillow, in hopes that, perhaps, this was all just a dream. “I’m just having really bad cramps right now.”

His head tilted, though you refused to open your eyes and see it. “Am I correct in thinking that you are uncomfortable with this topic?”

You huffed a strained laugh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Menstruation is a natural occurrence among biologically female humans. I do not understand your discomfort.”

“It’s just… not really something humans are comfortable talking about, especially in mixed company.” Before he could ask your meaning, you added, “With males. Biological functions make people uncomfortable.”

His eyes lit up. “Fascinating.” He opened his mouth, ready to ask more questions about why, but stopped himself as you curled up tight once more. Right, he said he would help with your symptoms.

“There are a wide variety of methods said to reduce menstrual cramping. Methods include holding a heat compress to your lower abdomen, taking a hot bath, eating anti-inflammatory foods such as berries, tomatoes, pineapple, almonds, walnuts and salmon, or holistic treatments such as acupuncture or acupressure. Other methods such as exercise or abdominal massages are also said to relieve discomfort.”

You huffed out a frustrated breath, body curling in on itself as a second wave of pain ripped through your body. You curled in as tight as you possibly could, and yet the pain stayed. Your constant movement disturbed Spot, who finally had enough of laying on top of you, and jumped down. Data followed her movements as she found another, solitary, surface to sleep on.

As the wave ebbed away, it left behind aggravation and irritated tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t want food, you didn’t want to move, and you definitely didn’t want to get poked or prodded. You just wanted the pain to end. Spot had been acting as a sort of heated compress before, one that purred and had soft fur. Now, though, you had nothing to help.

Unless…

“Are you doing anything important right now?”

Data was confused by the odd question. It was entirely subjective. “I am kneeling here, talking to you. Is that not important?”

You may have been touched by the simple sweetness of his words, in the naivety he carried to find something as simple as talking to you important in the over-simplified, highly-literal way he saw the world, if you weren’t busy scrubbing the wetness from your eyes and gathering every ounce of dignity you had left. “Will you cuddle with me?”

“Inquiry: ‘cuddle’?”

“Just… lay with me and hold me?”

Data, confused but willing, nodded. As he got up from the floor, you scooted to make more room for him on the bed, while at the same time opening up your cocoon for him. In smooth, albeit unsure, motions, he joined you in the bed. Laying on his back, you threw the covers over him and helped to guide him in a rough lesson to cuddling. With no resistance, you were able to pick up his arm and wrap it around you as you settled down into the nook it created. He watched as you pressed yourself against his side and rested your cheek on his chest. You were close enough to hear the soft whirring of his inner mechanisms.

“Is this cuddling?”

Your cheek shifted against his uniform as you nodded. You appeared more at ease now. He… enjoyed seeing you like this.

“Yes, Data, this is cuddling.” After a brief moment of hesitation, you found his hand resting loosely behind you and guided it to rest over your waist. And as everything stilled, you were finally at peace.

[lieutenantselnia]

One of my favourite 2D Doof scenes just because I like listening to him (or actually both Doofs) rambling over stuff, here in the German version! <3

A few words on this; when I imagine scenarios with him in my head I'm actually never quite sure if I imagine him talking in German or English, in my mind it just kind of all blurs together since I'm so used to using both languages in my everyday life at this point. However, I think for the most part I imagine him with the sound of his German voice and his pronunciation, probably also because I'm more used to it (for PnF I always kinda preferred the German dub, I don't know why exactly, it really can't be nostalgia since I didn't watch it as a kid, but maybe just for the childhood show vibes). I like the original as well though (and sometimes kind of mix them up in my mind), I feel like Dan voiced the two Doofs with a bit more nuance, making 2D Doof speak a bit slower and maybe a tiny little bit deeper, to give him a bit more of an intimidating aura.

Another detail about his accent that might be interesting especially for non German speakers: In the original, Heinz' home country Drusselstein is a parody mostly on Germany/German-speaking countries, and on a few occasions, characters are heard speaking some German words. Doofenshmirtz himself is supposed to have a sort-of German accent as well. In the German dub, this was mostly replaced with Russian, for example that once scene where little Heinz is dressed as a lawn gnome and his father yells at him "Bewegen Sie nicht!", which is a grammatically incorrect way of saying "Don't move!" (correct ways would for example be "Beweg dich nicht!" or "Nicht bewegen!"), while in the German dub he yells in Russian "Не шевелиться!" - in latin letters something like "Nje shevelitsja!" - (which I believe is also grammatically incorrect lol).

Doof's accent seems also inspired by what the (stereo-)typical Russian (or generally Slavic) accent sounds to German people. However it doesn't lean very strongly into it, the most notable thing is that he rolls his Rs quite a bit stronger than it's common for German speakers, otherwise he speaks pretty much standard German. For example his pronunciation of the "ch" sound isn't really emphasised at all, which often tends to be associated with a Russian accent.

Also another small note about accents in general, I don't know how common it still is nowadays for people to think that German speakers all speak with a strongly rolled R, but we actually don't. Of course it may depend on the region or specific dialects, some people also just happen to naturally speak with a more rolled R due to their individual mouth/throat anatomy, but in the standard way of speaking in both Germany and Austria at least, it's not really a thing. We roll our R differently than English speakers, but it's also not that very "full" rolled R that you may hear in languages like Spanish. I myself, despite being Austrian and growing up speaking the Austrian variant of German, am physically struggling to roll my Rs because my tongue frenulum is literally too short to do it properly. The R pronunciation was always my biggest challenge in my Spanish and Russian classes (luckily my teachers weren't strict with it as long as you tried). But yeah, I just wanted to clarify that Doofenshmirtz' way of speaking isn't what the average German speaker would sound like, also I just find languages a fascinating topic to ramble about :D

[bcbdrums]

Any and all soul eater ships? I know crossstitch and soma but are there others?

I answered this before but I don't feel like digging up the post, lol. So here we gooooooo..... Only lightly touching on the first two.

Soul x Maka = perfection. I'll elaborate should anyone wish, heheh.

Stein x Spirit = extremely messy perfection (my fave flavor). I actually prefer them platonically but I don't knock the romance. It shows up in my fics here and there lol.

Not going into those two cuz I already do that in other posts and you already know those, so moving on....

Black Star x Tsubaki = I know a lot of folks prefer them as a found family vibe, but they're no different than Soul and Maka. Teens who once grown up, have found their other. These two with all their quirks absolutely complete each other. And it's one of those things...again like Soul and Maka, where they don't need a...big moment of love declaration, or confused and gradual realization of feelings... They already know. And it's just that matter of...coming of age to where they step into that next phase of life, you know? (manga spoiler here) aahhhhhh just imagining Black Star and Tsu raising little Angela! The absolute chaos, that would be so fantastic!

Kid x Liz = they're also a found family (with Patty) but I see them....as they get older, Liz realizing her feelings of protectiveness are something far deeper.... and she keeps it to herself, doesn't wanna mess with what they have. Until it's one day hurting her in the future, how much she loves him and can't do anything about it. And Kid notices she's not well, and asks her, so she just tells him cuz it's the easiest thing... and much, much to her surprise he fully reciprocates her feelings! Aaaaahhh!! I've mentally written that fic so many times I can hear their voices. Kid by his nature just doesn't have any of that as a priority, so he would not be the one to bring it up. It would definitely be Liz.

Stein x Marie = since they are sooooooo different between the two canons I'm still wrapping my head around my feelings for these two, in terms of how they come together. I think manga gives them a much stronger foundation. (so manga commentary here) Stein is obviously interested in her from the beginning, but the dude ain't gonna make a move it's not his nature. Marie... she has this sort of ideal picture in her head, and Stein while she loves him doesn't fit the bill so she's got her own issues to overcome. That's one of the things I love about them in manga... We don't get to see what happened offscreen sadly, but, we can surmise that just by nature of their being there for each other and the day to day stuff they had to do in exile... she was able to forget about her "gotta get married asap and do the housewife/nuclear family thing" and actually let herself....be herself. With Stein. And get to know him past her duty and her own issues. And Stein too, in a very new situation, recovering from madness and trying to figure out what on earth to do with his feelings. I need to give this more thought, but, I know they're still learning each other but also that they're good for each other. Anime... idk man, I don't feel it as hard there. (And Stein and Spirit are still soulmates in both canons regardless fite me.)

Ox x Harvar = we needed a lot more of Harvar in general but we needed Harvar pining after Ox okay? Okay. You can tell this dude will follow his meister to the ends of the Earth and beyond (like Kim and Jackie) but it's also pretty one-sided (also for Kim and Jackie, on Jackie's part.... just easier to see that in the story since the author likes girls and seems a bit anti-gay guys...). But anyway. Yeah I could see Harvar slowly and slowly winning Ox over one day with his absolute faithfulness.... ah! I love angst.

Ox x Kim = (manga spoilers) it's freaking canon first of all they're an actual dating couple, but also maaaaaan that dude's love and devotion for her....! My gosh. Those are some of my favorite chapters, absolutely phenomenal.

Black Star x Patty = chaos duo, enough said.

Sid x Naigus = that's just canon and awesome. Power couple. Also there's the vibe that she's older (like Tsu and Black Star) and that's kinda neat too, the slightly older voice of wisdom. I don't think about them much tho.

That's all that's leaping out at me... If I've forgotten something I'll add to this later. Kilik gets no one, sorry lol. I have some NOTP's as well, but you didn't ask about those haha.

[rockingrobin69]

17:25

Sometimes they go to the little pub down the road and order nothing but blackcurrant lemonade. Sit crammed around a table and pretend to follow the screen. It’s nice to groan with a dozen or so people, to jump when the little men in different colours score on their little field—it’s mostly nice because Harry leans back and grins when Draco shouts, referee!

‘I like seeing you like this,’ he explains, much later, nuzzling into Draco’s neck on the sofa, sticky with tiredness and achingly sweet. ‘I like that you’re a part of my world.’ And Draco hums something nonsensical, coaxes him up and to bed, come on, love, let’s call it a night. To wrap under covers, to sing softly in his ear: glory, glory, and hear Harry laugh, bat at Draco with a far-too-fond hand.  

Sometimes they go to the little Korean shop near the train station. It’s the only place that sells the ramen Harry likes, and Draco would travel much further than a couple of stops for that: they also have the best snacks, and Harry’s first and foremost a snacker. Sweet, savoury, doesn’t matter at all, if it comes in a small bag and is preferably crunchy. Draco suspects the roots go Deeper, but he doesn’t push: buys whatever Harry wants in the reusable plastic bag with the dragon pattern. Watches him flush and try to hide behind his hands, the way his smile melts wider and he sighs, ‘All right. Take me home, you unbearable creature.’

‘I just like—’ he can’t explain this one, but he tries, those star-bright eyes and the rasp of affection in his voice. ‘I like it, okay,’ as they boil the water. The noodles are very spicy and Draco needs the tissue paper nearby, but they’re sort of his favourite, too. They sit very close and talk about nothing, about their days: Harry tells him how many dogs he’d seen (in detail, words tumbling over themselves in delight, tiny-little-thing-with-a-ribbon, black-lab-with-a-huge-stick). They sit and make silly jokes with no punch-line, and invent new careers to take (Draco’s going to be a slug tamer, and Harry’s will make candles). They sit. Draco just likes it too.

Sometimes they go for a walk around the neighbourhood. They let the traffic lights decide on each turn and point at things they see on the street: flowers, boots, the reflection of the night sky in a puddle. They walk and walk and sometimes Harry sighs, takes his hand, and they go quiet for a little while, both flushed and both grinning. It’s silly, and it might always be, how devastatingly darling Harry is. The dimple in his cheek when he gestures with his head, the twinkle in his eyes.

‘I like those curtains,’ to a window on the third floor. Draco memorises them on sight. He’d look through a catalogue or, Greg is fairly good with sewing. He’s thinking about fabric shops and yarn until Harry laughs, takes his chin. ‘Oi. I can see the wheels whirring.’ And Draco swallows a meaningless denial and squeezes his hand instead. They walk back a meandering path through all the parks, and Harry says, ‘You know,’ but doesn’t continue. Draco does, he thinks. Know.

Sometimes they take the train to nowhere in particular. Sit across from each other and dream up songs with no rhythm. Sometimes they go to the theatre and catch a film neither of them gets. Sometimes they sit at the window, together, and stare, and stare: sometimes they stop behind the bins outside their building for a kiss.

‘I like,’ Harry says about everything, and Draco says I know. Sometimes it’s a Monday, 17:25, and they're looking at each other.

(Flufftober day 16. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

[decidedly-not-heterosexual]

Can we get a spacedogs fic where Nigel is in denial about his feelings for Adam and then something happens to make him realize he’s in way too deep <3

Hi anon! Thank you for sending me a prompt :))

I wrote a oneshot for this, which you can read on this post. I also posted this fic on AO3. Hope you enjoy <3

Five favors

Nigel Banyai loves saying no. More than that, he loves saying fuck no. After all, Nigel Banyai is untouchable. He doesn’t need anything from anyone, and nobody needs anything from him. That’s how he prefers it.

He can’t get through his life without ever doing anything for anybody, of course. But he only does favors for a few select people. Like Darko, his oldest friend, And even then, their interactions go something like this:

“Pass the salt, asshole.”

“Fuck off,” Nigel says, as he hands Darko the salt.

The exception, of course, is Adam.

~~~ First favor ~~~

Nigel first meets him at a club downtown. He leans against the brick wall of the club and lights his cigarette, enjoying the fresh air on his face. Through the wall, Nigel can both hear and feel the thumping music.

Nigel wouldn’t come outside, normally, except the last time he had tried to smoke inside the bouncer had fucking kicked him out. Nigel likes to go to clubs that aren’t his own to unwind, because otherwise it feels too much like work. But, Christ, Americans all have a stick up their asses.

He breathes the smoke deep into his lungs, grateful for the rush of nicotine. Nigel watches the smoke from his cigarette curl into the night air. He sees some people dressed in leather harnesses and heeled boots totter by, their gender indeterminate. The club has it loud music and a hazy interior, which is why Nigel bothers with it. It’s more alternative than his tastes, and it lacks both strippers and hard drugs. He misses his club in Bucharest. He wonders, for the thousandth time, why he thought that moving to the United States would fix his problems.

A breathless, flushed man stumbles out of the club and makes his way towards Nigel. The man stops a few feet away and leans against the wall, breathing heavily.

Nigel first notices his dark, curly locks, falling over his damp forehead. When the man lifts his face, Nigel sees his eyes: pale and strikingly blue. He’s not shy about his staring.

“Hi,” the man says, looking in Nigel’s direction, yet not quite looking directly at Nigel. He flushes a shade deeper and looks away.

Nigel flicks ash off the tip of his cigarette. The man is attractive, with a form-fitting black v-neck and blue jeans. A simple outfit, yet one that shows off the dip of his highly-grabbable hips. More than suitable for a quick lay.

Nigel turns towards the man, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He gives the man his signature toothy toothy smile, and says, “What are you doing out here all by yourself, gorgeous?”

The man blinks rapidly a few times. His lips purse with an expression that may be confusion, or disgust. He doesn’t respond for a few moments. Nigel wonders if he’s unwittingly hit on a homophobe. Then the man says, in a rush:

“Well, my friend Carol told me about this club. She’s been trying to find a good club for me to go to ever since I mentioned I I wanted to try going to one.” As he talks, the man gesticulates with his hands. They don’t move higher than his torso, as if they’re boxed in, and he’s making an effort not to move them. “She thought I wouldn’t like this one because it’s very loud. But I like that it has different rooms that play all sorts of music. And they give you a wristband so you can step outside if you need to. You don’t even have to talk to anyone to go back in.”The man raises his wrist to show off his black wristband, pressed close to the skin. Nigel personally finds wristbands infantilizing.

The man continues. “I’ve been taking breaks so I don’t get overwhelmed. I’m also trying to stay hydrated. It’s very important to stay hydrated when you’ve been drinking to reduce the likelihood of a hangover.” His voice is fast and high-pitched. Nigel doesn’t know how out of breath he is from the dance floor, and how much is from his talking. “I haven’t had any water since the last time I came out, which must have been over an hour ago. It’s hard to keep time exactly in the club. I should really drink more water, but I don’t feel ready to go back inside yet. Oh! And I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Adam.”

The man—Adam—sticks out his hand. He still doesn’t meet Nigel’s eyes, but his eyes flick up to Nigel’s face this time.

Nigel takes the offered hand. He tries to make the movement sensuous, rubbing his thumb along the back of the man’s hand, but it’s difficult with a handshake. Adam lets go after a few firm pumps.

Nigel makes a sound between a scoff and chuckle. He says,“I don’t think I’ve ever shaken someone’s hand at the club before.”

Adam cocks his head to the side. “Is that bad?” He sounds genuinely curious, rather than affronted.

“Not really. It’s just unusual.”

Nigel would say odd, but, well, he’s still hoping to get Adam’s number, and he figures he’ll have better luck if he doesn’t insult him.

Adam takes that in with that same thoughtful expression. Except this time, his tongue peeks out from between his shining lips, which Nigel finds distracting.

Finally, Adam says, “Could you get me some water?”

Nigel’s no is a live wire, ready on his lips. Nigel hasn’t finished his cigarette yet. He doesn’t feel like going inside. And even if he did feel like going inside, he wouldn’t want to be an errand boy for a total stranger.

But Adam’s eyes finally, finally meet Nigel’s. Just for a second. He has a sweet face. An open face, with high cheekbones and rounded cheeks, without stubble. Not the kind of person Nigel usually goes for.

Adam looks down and rubs the back of his neck. He shifts on his feet. He has an uncertain smile on his face, and he opens his mouth, as if he’s realized it’s odd to ask a favor from a total stranger, as if to say never mind.

“Sure,” Nigel says. He stubs out his half-finished cigarette.

~~~

Adam texts him the next day. Nigel has to laugh.

Hi! the text begins. This is Adam, from the club. My friend Carol said you were flirting with me. Were you flirting? I’m sorry if I didn’t notice. I have autism, so I sometimes don’t pick up people’s intentions unless they tell me directly.

Nigel types out his reply. What gave it away, gorgeous?

Nigel sees the three “typing” bubbles poop up on his screen. Given the length of his response, Adam types quickly.

Well, Carol said that calling someone gorgeous and asking for their number at the club usually constitutes flirting. Would you like to go on a date?

Nigel pokes his thumb into his mouth, considering. He offers to meet for dinner at Casa di Lecter. A restaurant that has several Michelin stars and usually usually requires weeks of notice to get a reservation.

But, well, Nigel is a regular. He can afford to be, now that he and Darko’s club has started rolling in cash.

Adam replies instantly. I would like to pick the restaurant.

Hmm.

Nigel responds. Sure thing, gorgeous.

Adam suggests a homey, humble Italian restaurant, the kind that probably has checkered tablecloths. Nigel wants to meet right away, but Adam sets a date for later that week.

Nigel slides his phone in his pocket, a smile quirking at his lips. He wonders why Adam would turn down one of the fanciest restaurants in the city: a place that Nigel frequently takes his dates to impress them. Maybe he should read up on this whole autism thing.

~~~ Second favor ~~~

The restaurant is about what Nigel expected. Plastic tea-lights flicker dim lighting over red-and-white checkered tablecloths. The tables are small, circular, with straight-backed black chairs and plastic daisies in vases.

Adam waves from a table near the back. When Nigel gets closer, he can see the smile on Adam’s face, and the small white flowers on his navy, short-sleeved button-down.

Nigel’s dressed up, too, from the worn dog button-down he wore at the club. He wears a sharp, dark-red polo, one that Gabi had said brought out his eyes.

God, Gabi. He shoves aside the thought of her.

“Nigel!” Adam’s still waving. Nigel can’t think of the last time someone genuinely seemed excited to see him. “You came.”

Nigel sits down on the small chair. “Of course I came.”Nigel may be an asshole, but he’s not the kind of asshole that stands up people for dates.

When he sits, his knees immediately knock into the leg of the table. The ice cubes in the two water glasses, already placed on the table, clink together, the water threatening to spill. The table is also too low, and Nigel’s thighs brush up against the underside.

Nigel scowls. What is this? A table for dolls?

Adam watches him carefully, his brows furrowing, tongue poking between his lips. Nigel gives him a gleaming smile, but Adam’s confused expression remains.

“Knocked my knee when I sat down,” Nigel says, by way of explanation.

“Oh!” Adam’s expression eases. He hands Nigel a laminated menu, which is a little sticky.

Nigel scans over the menu. Standard Italian fare, but at least there’s tiramisu for dessert.

He sets the menu aside and gives Adam another smile.“What do you recommend?”

“I always get the pasta bake,” Adam says. That tracks with what Nigel read about routines. Adam continues.“It’s like mac-and-cheese but a little different. I don’t know anything else on the menu. So I can’t give you any more recommendations.” Adam’s face falls, then brightens again. “Oh! But Stephanie knows the menu very well.”

Stephanie?

A waitress arrives at their table, with long black hair tied back. Sure enough, her name tag reads Stephanie.

“Hi, Adam.” She gives Adam a familiar smile, then sets a bowl of bread on the table. To Nigel, she says, “Do you need another minute?”

Nigel sets the menu down. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Adam says, “I’ll try the pasta bake with bread crumbs this time, please. And could I get a glass of wine? Whatever you think would pair well with the pasta bake.”

Stephanie smiles, tapping a finger against her notepad. “I recommend the house red.”

“That sounds great.” Adam’s eyes flick back to Nigel. “Do you like red wine?”

Nigel chuckles. “Aren’t you going to get a glass for yourself?”

“No. I don’t really like wine. But Carol said a lot of people like to take wine with dinner and that I should consider that.”

Adam waits patiently for Nigel to respond.

Nigel’s stomach flutters. He thinks of Adam at his job, talking to his co-worker about their date. Had he planned out every step of it? Gotten here early? Nigel can’t remember the last time he had really prepared for a date. Yet the thought of Adam doing so makes him feel some type of way.

“I like red wine,” Nigel says.

Stephanie smiles and gives Adam a you’re-being-cute-with-your-date look, which Adam completely misses. He’s tapping his fingers on the table and staring vaguely at the center of Nigel’s forehead.

Trouble with eye contact, Nigel thinks. Don’t take it personally.

Nigel reaches for a glass of water and nearly knocks it over, his hand brushing against the oversized bread basket. He catches it just in time.

In a rehearsed tone, Adam asks,“What do you like to do for fun, Nigel?”

Based on his impression of Adam, Nigel feels like partying hard and doing coke and partying hard while doing coke would not be a well-received response.

“Oh. You know. Stuff.” Nigel clears his throat. “I like going on walks.”

And he does. He goes outside to smoke, but he’s found he enjoys walking around the city, especially by the water.

God, he sounds lame. He can’t even say going to concerts because he hasn’t been able to do that since Gabi dumped him. (Don’t think about it, Nigel.)

Nigel wracks his brain, trying to think of other hobbies besides watching TV and listening to music. (Boring and basic, Nigel. God, you’re lucky people you hook up with don’t ask questions like this).

To save himself, Nigel asks, “What about you?”

Adam’s eyes sparkle. He sits up higher in his chair, and his fingers stop their tapping. “Oh! I’m really interested in space. I work at the observatory making computer chips to guide satellites. But I also enjoyed stargazing and learning about space in my free time.” He pauses, worrying at his lips. “Would you like to hear about space?” he asks, formal.

“Sure.”

“Okay!” The sparkle returns. “I just finished a book about exo-planets. Any planet outside of the solar system is called an exo-planet.”As he talks, Adam’s hands flutter up higher than his shoulders, moving more freely. He pulls at the collar of his shirt, seemingly without realizing it. Nigel tries—and fails—to not stare at the glimpse of Adam’s sharp clavicle. Adam says, “With advances in technology, we’re constantly discovering new exo-planets. There’s a type of exo-planet called a hot Jupiter. This is a gas giant planet with a rocky core, like Jupiter. But! Unlike Jupiter, the planet has orbits of less than 0.1 AU from their star.”

Adam pauses to take a sip of his water. Nigel expects the conversation to shift, but Adam continues.“An AU is a unit of measurement equivalent to the Earth’s distance from the sun. A lot of units in astronomy use the Earth and Sun as a reference. Previously, scientists thought that gas giants like hot Jupiters could only form several AU away from their stars. But since they have such small orbits, hot Jupiters must have formed much closer to their stars.

“That’s interesting,” Nigel says, and he means it.

“Would you like to hear about how the discovery of hot Jupiters challenge current theories of planetary formation?” Adam asks politely.

Nigel is about to say yes—because why not?—when Stephanie returns with a wine glass.She sets it down in front of Nigel with a friendly smile, but decidedly but cooler than the smile she had given Adam.

“Here’s your wine for you. Your entrees will be out shortly.”

Nigel thanks her and reaches for the wine glass. He shifts awkwardly, boxed in by the stupid bread basket and hard chair. His hand knocks into the wine stem and tips the glass forward, spilling all over his shirt.

“În pula mea!” Nigel jumps up, scraping his chair back, but it’s too late. The wine spreads dark, blooming stains, almost purple against the red of his polo shirt.

“Oh no,” Adam says, without emotion.

Nigel grabs some paper napkins from off the table and begins dabbing at the stain. The liquid is cold against his skin.

“It’s all right,” Nigel says. “I was planning to throw this shirt out anyway.”

Adam’s brow furrows. “You shouldn’t throw away your shirt. You look very handsome in it.”

“Uh,” Nigel says, dabbing at the spreading stain with a handful of paper napkins.

Adam stands. “You should clean your shirt immediately. Otherwise the stain will set.”

Nigel blows air out from between his teeth. “I would, but my apartment is on the other side of town.” He smiles, crooked. He’s acting blasé, but it does bother him. He’s started wearing the shirt again—even if it makes him think of Gabi—because he likes the way it clings to his pecs.

Adam says, “That’s okay. My apartment is very close.”

Adam waves over Stephanie.“Can I change our order to take-out and pick it up later?”

Stephanie blinks at him, but one look at Nigel’s shirt clears up the situation.“Sure, Adam,”

Adam takes his wallet out of his form-fitting jean pocket and pays before Nigel has a chance to react. Adam leads Nigel out of the restaurant, Nigel still holding the napkins to his chest. It’s a quick walk to Adam’s apartment.

Nigel takes off his shirt as soon as he’s through the door. His skin is pink and sticky, the wine matting his chest hairs. Damn. The whole glass had really soaked through his shirt.

Adam takes the shirt from his hands.“Can you look up how to remove a wine stain, and read the instructions out loud to me?”

Nigel does as requested. Adam flits into the kitchen to grab vinegar and club soda, then heads to the bathroom. Nigel hears the water running.

Adam’s apartment is one large rectangle, with the living room to the left, and the kitchen and bathroom to the right. The bathroom is tiny. Normally, Nigel would take the opportunity to crowd Adam, but he doesn’t exactly feel sexy with wine drying on his chest hair. Instead, Nigel waits in the doorway.

Adam comes out with a blue towel, dotted with planets, which he hands to Nigel. “I think the stain will come out,” Adam says. “It just needs to soak. Then I need to wash and dry the shirt. I’ll give it back to you when we have another date.”

Nigel feels a blush creep up his cheeks. Adam’s voice is so casual, certain. When we have another date.

Adam continues, seemingly without noticing. “You can dry off in the bathroom. I’m smaller than you, but I might have a t-shirt that can fit you.”

Adam disappears through a door at the back of the room, presumably into his bedroom. Nigel’s throat dries. Adam is smaller than him. A very satisfying, holdable size, in fact. Nigel had hoped to go home to Adam’s apartment after their date, but perhaps under different circumstances.

A few minutes later, Nigel is clean, dry, and wearing a soft black cotton t-shirt. It is too small for him, and rides up his stomach, but Nigel hopes the way it clings to his chest is at least flattering.

“Good,” Adam says, flicking his eyes over Nigel, and Nigel feels heat bloom in his stomach. He doesn’t have time to process that interaction before Adam says, “I’m going to go pick up our food at Cecilia’s. You can stay here and watch television if you’d like.”

Just like that, Adam is gone.

Nigel lets out a breath. He’s not nervous, not exactly—but he feels displaced, removed from his usual easy charm. He’s grateful to have a moment to collect himself. And to snoop around Adam’s apartment.

The space is modest and neat. Bookshelves line the wall in the living room, and dark windows line the adjoining wall. There are mostly books about space, a few about philosophy, and a few classic novels. There’s a row of DVDs too. Nigel smiles when he recognizes two copies of The Little Prince, one in French and one in English. Nigel had also read that book as a child, translated into Romanian.

Nigel is still leaning over the bookcases when the door opens. He jumps, not having expected Adam to get back so fast.

“I only have one chair at my kitchen table,” Adam says bluntly. He holds a plastic bag in his hand and tilts his head, adorably, to the side.“Would you like to eat on the couch?”

~~~ Third favor ~~~

They keep seeing each other, and Nigel keeps forgetting that he had initially started this whole thing for sex. Because, well, it’s Adam.

Nigel’s always happy to see him, regardless of what they’re doing. And it’s not like he doesn’t think about sex with Adam. He does. It’s hard not to, when Adam brushes his fingers against Nigel’s, the touch brief, yet sudden and electric. And when they went swimming in Nigel’s swimming pool, Nigel had certainly stared at the way Adam’s dark-blue, space-themed briefs clung to thighs when he got out of the water.

But the relationship is casual. They haven’t talked about what they are, which suits Nigel just fine. He doesn’t want to rush into anything. Not after Gabi.

Even after they have sex, it doesn’t change anything. Nigel enjoys it, of course, even more than he expected. Still, that’s not the only reason he keeps seeing Adam. It’s just one more thing for them to do together.

“You’ve gone soft, man,” Darko tells him one day. They’re in the back office of the club, and their conversation has shifted away from their most recent shipment.

“No way in hell, Darko. I’m too old now to be motivated only by sex. Gabi taught me to stay away from that.” He lights a cigarette.“I didn’t know anything about her apart from the sex for the first few months we dated. And that she played the cello.”

Darko raises his hands. “I’m just saying. You do his grocery shopping, for christ’s sake. On a schedule. You blew off a shipment with the Russians to pick up his goddamn mac-and-cheese. If that’s not relationship material, I don’t know what is.”

Nigel scowls. He stubs out his cigarette on Darko’s desk, to annoy him. Darko’s eyebrow twitches in a deeply satisfying manner.

“Adam doesn’t like going to the grocery store,” Nigel says. “And he likes schedules.”

Darko lifts his eyebrows. “Exactly. You’re doing what Adam likes. Because you care about him. Because you’re in a relationship.” Nigel’s expression turns serious. “Nigel,” he says, his voice suddenly flat. “Are you in love with him?”

Nigel scoffs. “Fuck, no.”

Nigel knows he isn’t falling in love. With Gabi, it was an obsession: a steep drop, his stomach plummeting. Adam is comfortable. Safe. He feels seen by Adam. He doesn’t think feel like he has to be loud and flashy and intense, the way he did with Gabi. He can relax around Adam. Hell, he can laugh with Adam. It’s completely different.

Nigel takes a deep drag of his cigarette, glaring at Darko. Who does Darko think he is? Some kind of idiot? Nigel almost died the last time he fell in love. He’s not going to go through that again.

His oldest friend holds his gaze for a beat. Nigel shifts, plucking the cigarette in and out of his mouth. He intensifies his glare at Darko, but it doesn’t seem to have an effect.

After what feels like forever, Darko closes his eyes. He opens them and says, “Good. We wouldn’t want you getting into a mess like that again.”

Nigel doesn’t even deign that with a reply.

~~~ Fourth favor ~~~

But Nigel is in love with Adam.

Of course.

Nigel realizes during a typical evening.It’s a new moon. He and Adam are going stargazing. Adam enjoys stargazing during the new moon, because the sky is darker. He also stargazes during the full moon, because duh, who doesn’t want to see the moon. And also at the quarter moons, because Adam likes to stargaze frequently.

Adam had explained that, at first, he struggled to adapt to a lunar schedule rather than a monthly schedule. “But I’m trying to be more flexible,” he said, “and it makes me feel more connected to the universe.” From anyone else, that may have sounded corny, but Adam said it with complete sincerity.

Adam works late on Thursdays, so Nigel goes to the observatory to pick him up. His car is packed with two thermoses of hot cocoa, blankets, and Adam’s telescope.

Adam had given Nigel a copy of his apartment keys for that purpose. When Nigel went to pick up the telescope from Adam’s apartment, he had also grabbed Adam’s favorite sweater, a worn and soft green one.

Nigel couldn’t give less of a fuck about the weather. He wore short-sleeved shirts year-round, and if sometimes he found himself shivering, so be it. But he grabbed the sweater for Adam, without even thinking of it.

Nigel gets out his car, the sweater folded over his arm, and pauses. He hadn’t consciously thought of it until now. But there were lots of steps involved to grabbing the sweater, actually.

He knew that Adam was sensitive to the cold.

He knew that Adam planned his outfits every day and didn’t like carrying around extra layers.

In the morning, he had checked the weather app to see how he should plan their stargazing date.

During the day, he realized that the day was getting colder, contradicting the weather app, so Adam wouldn’t be prepared.

He thought about Adam’s comfort and preferences while choosing which sweater to take.

He had a copy of Adam’s keys, to even get into the apartment.

He was in love.

Fuck. He's really in love.

Nigel opens the car door and slides back into the passenger seat. He presses his forehead into the steering wheel.

“Fuck.”

He lifts his head up and bonks it into the steering wheel. The horn makes a flat, pathetic little sound.

“Fuck.”

Nigel feels a headache begin between his eyes. He raises his hand to hit the steering wheel, but his head is still pressed against the center, and he doesn’t want to make his headache works. Instead, he grips the wheel until his knuckles turn white. He keeps a hold of the steering wheel even when his hand starts to feel numb.

He hears a tapping at the window.

Double, tripe, quadruple fuck.

Adam wears his usual white work button-down, his nametag still pinned to his breast pocket. He has a vague, pursed smile that indicates his confusion has started to slide into something closer to worry.

“Nigel?”Adam says through the glass.

Nigel groans. He presses the button to roll down the window. Now there’s no protective barrier between him and Adam’s big, beautiful, concerned baby-blue eyes.

“Nigel, what’s wrong? I was waiting outside for you to pick me up. I saw your car but you didn’t come out.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Nigel tries to keep the frustration out of his voice. It isn’t Adam’s fault that he’s a goddamn motherfucking idiot, after all. “I’m fine. I just needed a second.”

“Okay.”

Adam waits a moment. Nigel keeps his face pressed against the steering wheel, his eyes closed.

God. The worst part isn’t even that he fell in love. It’s that he didn’t fucking realize.

And now what? There’s no world in which he leaves Adam over this. They’ve been together too long, now, and Adam hasn’t done anything wrong.

Not to mention that Nigel doesn’t want to stop seeing Adam. Adam is good and kind and sweet, and has a nice smile, a beautiful laugh, and makes Nigel laugh, which has been rare of late. (Stop that train of thought, Nigel).

“Nigel,” Adam says. “You said you’re all right, but you’re still bent over and not looking at me. These are both unusual behaviors which may indicate distress. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Nigel straightens, and rubs at the imprint of the steering wheel on his forehead. He still has the soft, comfortably-heavy sweater folded over his arm. Nigel throws it in the backseat as if it burns.

“You’re right, Adam.” Nigel rolls his lower lip between his teeth, to buy himself time. He doesn’t want to lie, but he doesn’t want to tell the full truth.“I’m upset.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No!”

Adam cocks his head, considering.“Can I come in?”

Nigel wants to say no, he really does. But he can’t. He leans over to open the car door, and Adam slides into the passenger seat.

Adam looks at him carefully. He reaches out a hand, tentative, giving Nigel the chance to pull back.

Nigel doesn’t. He leans into Adam’s touch instead. First, Nigel feels soft and warm fingers against his cheek. Then a hand slides into Nigel’s hair, scratching at his scalp with some force, just the way he likes it. The same way Adam plays with his hair when they’re curled up in Adam’s apartment, watching a space program.

Nigel closes his eyes. He leans over the center console until his shoulder knocks against Adam’s. He feels tears prick underneath his closed eyelids.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Nigel says, his voice husky. He keeps his eyes closed. He can’t bear to face Adam’s reaction.

God. It’s only been a couple months. They only recently started using the word boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. The worst way Adam could react—and the way Nigel expects him to react—is with pity. Condescension.

Adam is silent. The image sharpens in Nigel’s mind. He sees Adam’s pursed lips, Adam’s slightly scrunched nose. It’s nice of Adam to keep scratching Nigel’s hair without a lapse, even while wracked by disgust.

Still, maybe—just maybe—the image is incongruous. Maybe Adam is still playing with his hair because he’s not reacting badly. Nigel can’t imagine how else he would react, but maybe it isn’t badly.

Nigel can’t bear the not-knowing any longer, and cracks his eyes open. He tilts his chin up against Adam’s shoulders to look into Adam’s eyes.

Adam has a softness to his expression. Nigel’s gotten more used to it over the past couple months. His mouth is soft and relaxed, his gaze candid and considering.

Nigel clears his throat. “What are you thinking?”

Adam hums.“I’m thinking about how to react.”He slides his hand down and slips it under the collar of Nigel’s button-down shirt, to rub at the nape of Nigel’s neck. “I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

Nigel chuckles, dry and bitter. He lifts himself off of Adam’s shoulder and runs his face over his hand.

Nigel says,“The last time I fell in love, it ended badly.”

Adam nods. He’s heard the full story by now, in bits in pieces.

“But I’m not Gabi.”

Nigel sighs deeply. “No. You’re not.”

Adam nods. His fingers tap against his slacks. “What would make you feel better, Ni?”

Nigel rubs at the nape of his neck. It doesn’t feel as nice as when Adam does it.

“We’re supposed to go stargazing tonight.”

Adam’s voice is flat. “I asked what would make you feel better. Not what our plans were.”

~~~ Fifth favor ~~~

“Sorry,” Nigel says, dragging a french fry through his mixture of mustard and ketchup. “Tonight was supposed to be our stargazing night. I’ve messed up your entire schedule.”

“That’s okay.” Adam finds Nigel’s hand under the table and squeezes it. “It’s important to support the people you love. Even if that means your own life has to change in the process.”

Adam takes a sip of Nigel’s soda. He doesn’t drink his own, since that amount of sugar keeps him awake, but he always tries some of Nigel's. (That is, if Nigel gets root beer, since root beer is the only soda Adam likes. Meaning: ever since Adam first took a sip of his root beer, Nigel’s always ordered root beer.)

Nigel stares after him, the gears in his brain clicking.

He says, “You love me?”

Adam nods. He has a simple, clear earnestness about him. “I’ve loved you for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Adam shrugs. “At first, it was too early. Carol said I might scare you off. And it seemed like a bad idea. You got so uncomfortable when Carol called you my boyfriend. You know, at that movie night, the first month we started dating? It seemed like you wanted something, well, more casual. I wanted to respect that.”

Nigel speaks slowly. “You were okay with that?”

Adam shrugs again. He begins tapping his fingers on the table, then moves them to his thigh.

“I was happy whenever I spent time with you, Nigel. And last time I told someone I loved them, it didn’t go well either.” Adam smiles, sudden and brilliant. His posture straightens and he reaches for Nigel’s hand again. “This is good, Nigel! I thought maybe you wouldn’t love me back, or that my love would feel like a burden. But we both love each other. So we don’t have to worry about it anymore. Well, I don’t have to worry about it anymore. Were you worried?”

Adam reaches over for one of Nigel’s french fries and bit down on it. Nigel watches him, incredulous. He’s still caught on the idea that Adam’s love could be a burden, ever, to anybody. That’s a whole other conversation, which Nigel will bring up another day.

“I was worried,” Nigel says. “Once I realized. That’s why you found me freaking out in my car.”

Adam nods. “That makes sense. You had similar worries as me.”Adam reaches for another fry. Unlike Nigel,he doesn’t like to eat them with sauce.

“Something like that.”

“But we don’t have anything to worry about. Because we both love each other.” Adam’s smile grows. “That’s nice. Now I can start saying I love you. I’ve wanted to say it for a while now.”

The words aren’t even directed at Nigel, yet he feels a flutter of butterflies in stomach. At the thought that Adam wants to say them to him. Has wanted to say them to him.

Nigel cups Adam’s chin with his hand. Adam keeps on eating french fries. Nigel feels the moving of Adam’s jaw underneath his fingers.

“Just like that?” Nigel breathes.

Adam nods. “Just like that.”

Nigel reaches across the table and kisses him. Adam makes a small surprised sound. He swallows his last bite of french fry and leans into the kiss. His lips are familiar, soft and gentle. Nigel feels them tip up into a smile, and he does the same.

They break apart, because it’s awkward to lean so far over the counter, and Nigel wants to save their makeout session for the bedroom.

Nigel can’t stop a goofy smile from spreading over his face. He know he looks ridiculous. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have to perform for Adam.

“I love you,” Nigel says. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He reaches for Adam’s hand and squeezes it, hard. Adam returns the squeeze.

“God,” Nigel continues. “Now that I’ve said it you’re not going to get me to shut up.”

Adam’s brow furrows. “Why would I want you to shut up? I love you too. We just talked about it.”

Nigel laughs. He stands from the table.

“Let’s get out of here.” The last thing he wants now is his greasy burger and soggy fries.

Adam blinks.“I thought you said you liked eating burgers and fries when you’re upset?”

Nigel’s smile threatens to split his face. “I’m not upset anymore, darling.”

“Oh, okay. I just wanted to make sure.” Adam pauses. “Can we still go stargazing?”

“We can do anything you want, gorgeous.”

They walk out of the restaurant together, holding hands, brushing shoulders. Adam bumps more forcefully at Nigel’s shoulder. Adam nuzzles at Nigel’s ear.

“I love you,” Adam says, and places a soft kiss on Nigel’s earlobe. Nigel can feel his lips, still curling into a smile.

Nigel pulls Adam into a deep kiss. Adam giggles, then relaxes into the kiss. He threads his fingers through Nigel’s hair, and Nigel places a broad hand on Adam’s lower back. Nigel swipes his tongue along Adam’s lips. Adam opens his mouth, sighing happily.

They exchange long, slow kisses, until Nigel realizes Adam is probably cold. “Stay here,” he whispers. “I’ve got a sweater for you in the car.”

To his dismay, Adam follows him into the car. Adam buckles himself into the passenger seat. “We can continue making out when we get to the park,” Adam says. “Then when we get home we can have sex.”

Nigel’s laughter bursts out of his chest. Even when he’s laughed through that comment, Nigel can’t stop the giddiness rising through him, light and warm, flushing his face. Adam catches his gaze, his eyes twinkling, a similar flush on his face.

Adam runs his hand down Nigel’s shoulder as Nigel drives, seemingly unable to stop touching him. They laugh and smile the whole way to the park.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

But Who's Keeping Score?

For good, and for bad, I don't have nearly as many unfinished pieces this year, but there are still a handful that I'd like to move off the burners, so here's a last-minute WIP before the year ends. As per usual, it's got placeholders all over and isn't in a finished state.

Just in case you're sensitive to the subject matter, it focuses pre-transition characters, who use their birth names up to a point. It's not coming from a place of malice, it's just because they don't identify as men at that point in the story.

(As a side note, I somehow ended up basing this in the same continuity as Keep Making that Face, but you don't need to be familiar with it to read this.)

---

Somebody had submitted Irma’s name to the annual Nimbasa [?] poll. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t upset about it-- it was just a silly popularity contest-- but if they were being realistic, it was all about appearances. Under different circumstances, Irma wasn’t the sort to wring her hands over how attractive others did or didn’t find her, but…

But throughout her entire adult life, over and over, she’d been told how much prettier she’d be if she smiled like Emma.

Irma tried. She really, truly did. If people paid enough attention, they could see the way her eyes narrowed when she was happy, and she did her best to make her voice dynamic and expressive to show others how she felt. It just… wasn’t enough. People always took her at face value, and one thing Irma physically could not do was smile like her sister.

It wasn’t the idea of people finding her unattractive that bothered her; it was the fact that she’d have irrefutable proof that people simply didn’t understand her, and didn’t care to try.

She tried to put it from her mind and focus on work but, inevitably, someone would make a comment about her expression and she’d be forced to confront the problem again. Emma had started taking it personally. It would have been a nice gesture, but it always ended in Irma having to swoop in and intervene before she could say something that would get her fired. She loved her sister, but the extra responsibility of dragging her away by the collar every time she heard the word ‘smile’ was the last thing she needed right now.

It made sense; Emma had felt responsible for the facial paralysis ever since diagnosis, no matter how emphatically Irma told her it wasn’t her fault. The guilt of it had lessened for awhile-- once Irma made enough progress with physical therapy to emote from the nose up, and Emma relearned to read her twin’s face-- but when they’d gone on to find employment with the United Unovan Railway, people started making pointed comments. Ironically, Emma never had possessed much of a poker face, and it was plain to see that it struck her every time she happened to hear.

Some days, Irma wished she could just be a man instead. No one would lament her “resting bitch face” then-- or, if they did, then maybe the “bitch” part wouldn’t sting so much. It was a fleeting-- if frequent-- thought that she passed off without any deeper consideration.

In the end, the voting period wasn’t actually so bad. She’d tried to tell herself that, even if she came in at dead last, it was still a lot to have been nominated at all… regardless of the fact that it did feel like a cruel prank, when she was being honest; she’d never know if it had been a legitimate submission or a mean spirited joke. Surprisingly, she landed just under the median. It was still a good two dozen spots behind her sister and entire light years from someone like Elesa, but she could live with that.

What hurt the most was the discussion in the aftermath. Irma didn’t go out seeking commentary on the poll, but having been an unwilling part of it, it found her-- people lamenting that she’d somehow placed ahead of them or saying that anyone who voted for her over their preference didn’t have any taste. There were some whose talk wasn’t even negative, just incredulous. Somehow, it didn’t feel any better to be told that someone had been surprised to see her rank so highly, but congratulations!

She took to wearing a face mask during work hours, sick to death, but only of the subject matter. If people couldn’t see her lips, they might mistake her for Emma and spare her the unsolicited interjections. Emma hated that she had to resort to such measures, but couldn’t offer any other solution-- save for ripping into anyone she caught making noise.

When Elesa had caught wind of the situation, she’d taken a different track. The reassurances that it was a stupid poll to begin with, and a mid-tier placement wasn’t bad at all weren’t anything Irma hadn’t already told herself, and as much as she’d tried to be grateful for the fact that her friend cared enough to encourage her, Irma only found it exhausting. It was over now, and she just wished they could move past it. She understood that they wanted to make her feel better, but why did they have to keep revisiting the topic?

Irma had forgotten that, while the general public had proven they couldn’t read her, Elesa certainly could, and she recognized that her input was only making things worse. Instead, she took to sending Irma messages throughout the week, showing her those comments that highlighted her enthusiasm and geniality-- and even several that framed her not as distant and aloof due to her frown, but intelligent and alluring.

It was kind of her, and her efforts did actually help. Irma didn’t really know what to make of being called “alluring”, but could… appreciate the compliment? She guessed?

The years after that weren’t so bad-- it was just the first time she’d been on the board that people had seen fit to approach her about it. Frankly, the only time thereafter that it had been of any interest at all was the year a particularly nasty strain of the flu ran rampant through the city; it became commonplace for people to wear face masks in public and, with only the upper half of her face to judge by, commuters were able to recognize when Irma smiled at them in her own way. Strangely, it even reflected in that year’s poll: instead of twenty places apart, Irma found that she landed just under Emma.

It still didn’t mean anything in the long run, but it was… nice to feel like people could begin to see her for what she was, rather than what she wasn’t.

The year after that, he’d come out to his sibling and they’d drawn up rough schematics for a train car that could withstand the wear and tear of battle. Both of them had been somewhat absent from the public eye as they brought the idea to both the head of the UUR and the Pokemon League, then subsequently been made to prove the concept. Surely polling happened that year, but both of the twins were too caught up in their project to pay it even the slightest bit of attention. It meant even less than usual that time, when they’d only be put in the wrong category.

Which brought them to this year.

The battle cars were perfectly functional and the system was promising. They’d debuted the mini-battle facility using different names from what people knew, and hosted only multi battles-- it set the subway apart from the gym challenge, and it also let them focus on their specialty, honing it to perfection. The somewhat dramatic coming out hadn’t had any bearing on that; it had just been convenient timing.

So far, the Battle Subway was a hit. They’d had coworkers express an interest in joining up, and had successfully proven the concept to the League; while it wasn’t guaranteed at this point, there was even talk of broadening the system to include more common battle styles.

With the prospect of expanding the services on the table, Ingo had been focused on how to make it work. There was a fair amount of interest in battling for a living, but so far, no other trainers who could serve as the final milestone for a line dedicated to single or double battles. While he and Emmet were certainly capable of filling those gaps, he needed to figure out how to make the timing work; using a win streak kept them from being swamped so far, so maybe it was just a matter of tweaking the existing system? How many wins could they reasonably expect a trainer to achieve? It was difficult to say. Not everyone was as… enthusiastic as he and his twin were, but if they’d boarded looking for a battle, then it wasn’t unfair to provide a certain amount of challenge…

He heard the lock turn, snapping him back to reality, and belatedly pulled a [blob] of accumulated fur from the comb he’d been moving on autopilot. It was the interruption of the pattern that caused Excadrill to look up, disturbed out of the doze it had fallen into.

On the other side of the front door, two muffled voices chattered back and forth, but went strangely quiet when they finally crossed into the apartment. Ingo sighed internally and braced himself for whatever trick would eventually be leveled at him.

[abysswalkersknight]

Horrortober (twst) Day 3: sharp

A fair warning, this was meant to be much better but I got distracted by vampire literature halfway through and now just finished it to get it out of the way so I can finish off other vampy stuff. Once there is more time I will probably revisit this.

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

It wasn't everyday that Lilia heads out to the human village. Usually he prefers to hunt in the woods so as to not be disturbed but Silver has been getting quite hungry lately, even if Lilia captures bears, deer or any large game, his son's appetite’s never fully satiated. This has been going on for a while so Lilia thought he should try… a different sort of prey. Hence why he's been drifting through the evening streets observing the villagers he walks by. Hmm, he has to be careful with what he chooses, no doubt he’s going to feel heavy and sluggish until he goes home. Hmm, no, too young… too old… too bony, hardly anything there at all… yeah he’s not feeding whatever that is to his son… oh dear, decisions, decisions. Malleus did say it would be better to go for criminals or something like that, but where in Briar Valley am I supposed to find one? He went around the night market stalls, buying little trinkets and whatnot as a disguise and then like a blessing from the great thorn fairy herself, while he was buying some fruit he suddenly felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He’s careful to keep his fangs hidden under his travelling cloak as a wide grin splits across his face. Success! He thanks the stall owner and moves on his merry way.

He was being followed.

And not by some mediocre oaf, it was a human rather skilled in keeping themself concealed! It was only by his keen senses that Lilia had caught wind of them, and from the malicious intent wafting off their form, this was most certainly a criminal. Perfect! Bless his adorable, petite, damsel like figure. It was excellent bait for wandering thieves! 

Lilia kept his pace nice and slow for the thief to catch up, and he could tell it was a thief, why else would someone be carrying a knife like that, not to mention they’d be a bit more aggressive if they were just a serial killer. Keeping his head low he veered off the cobblestone path towards an isolated section of the woods. 

It's showtime.

This little girl was an idiot. 

The thief has been following her for a while now, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Her travelling cloak may have been old and worn, but the clothes underneath spoke of a finer material, and a fair amount of coin.

All of a sudden she leaves off into the woods, onto the crude dirt road that only hunters were known to use. The thief smiles at their good fortune, this should be a piece of cake. On both sides of the road, dense forestry spread as far as the eye could see with not a soul in sight. The sky grew darker and darker, the wind tossing the girl’s dark hair this way and that. Deeper and deeper they went, the air grew colder by the second, enough for the thief to start shivering on occasion. In the still moonlight, a high pitched giggle pierces through the air. They startle at the sound, was something else there?! As if to answer their question an owl takes to the air, screeching away into the night. They breathe a sigh of relief, they should probably get this over with anyways, from their hiding place they ready their dagger, glancing up to make sure the girl was…

Gone.

They leap up in disbelief rushing over to where the girl had just been. Where was she? She was right there! There was no way she could have just disappeared into thin air! Just as they were about to make a run for it, there was no point in staying if the target wasn’t there, a particular cool gust of wind blows past their ear ‘now, now, you could really hurt someone with that’ a deep voice snickers, the thief screeches and falls forward, still clutching their dagger. The voice tsked ‘careful with that! I’d rather not have you bleed before necessary’ they look up to see the girl from before smiling down at them. Only it was clear now that this wasn’t a little girl. Not with those big scarlet eyes and gleaming fangs baring down at them.

Lilia couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had this fool thought to follow him so far into the woods but they were quite the decent size, perfect for feeding his boy, perhaps there’d even still be enough for Malleus! Though for some reason the prince always declines when offered a share. Oh well, royalty tends to be picky I suppose. Now… ‘alright dear criminal I have only one question for you so please answer nicely’ he says clapping his hands ‘you wouldn’t be ill by any chance would you? No blood poisoning or anything?’ the thief forgot their fear for a moment ‘what?’

‘Oh right, perhaps you’re too daft to understand that question, I mean you did follow me out here in the middle of nowhere right?’ he casually walks up to them. They tried to swing the dagger at him but Lilia easily flicked it out of their hand ‘seriously, I said be careful! Do you know how hard it is to collect blood for both you and a growing child? It's not easy, I tell you, I need every last drop. "He then licks his teeth, hunger evident in his eyes." You understand that, don't you?’

That night, the village cowers as blood curdling screams filled the air. Malleus is reclined on the couch with a tiny human in his arms when Lilia slipped through the door, blood soaked on his face and hands, unfortunately the thief hadn’t been very cooperative and Lilia had to resort to more violent means. But in the end there was plenty of food for both him and Silver. Speaking of, the moment the child and prince saw him Silver leapt off Malleus’s lap and rushed over to hug Lilia’s legs ‘welcome home Papa!’ he squeals, uncaring of the blood clinging to his father’s figure. Grimacing at the white shirt Silver had on he refrained from returning the gesture ‘watch out, Silver love, you’ll dirty your clothes like that. I’ll hug you once I’m all clean alright?’ his baby was about to protest when he was plucked off the floor and curled into Malleus’s chest ‘better be quick then Lilia’ mused the prince ‘or this little one might go on a rampage’ in response Silver bared his wee little baby fangs at the both of them. Lilia laughs and quickly heads over to his room to change before going to the kitchen to feed Silver, once he was clean and his son was happily sleeping in his arms with a full belly he finally noticed a pair of little dots along the Prince’s wrist, Malleus must have fed him before. He thinks with a frown, before, he never would have thought of that with the way Silver had gulped down all that red liquid. Sigh, this must mean that things will be tougher in the future.