#but then i realized the jam part actually fit really well with what I’d already drawn so I said fuck it and put it in in a sep doc

[thou-babbling-brook]

Kind of a fucked up thing to post on Valentine’s Day all things considered but that was unintentional tbh

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me 's SPN advent calendar 2020. prompt: phone calls and late night texts.

Cas isn't a serial texter.

And Dean's a-okay with it.

But for all that's worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

*

>>> hello, dean. [12:07 am]

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren't exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas's name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

<<< hey [12:09 am]

<<< you OK? [12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

>>> do you have peanut butter? [12:09 am]

And as if it's an afterthought, Cas adds.

>>> yes, I'm fine. how are you? [12:10 am]

Dean blinks.

<<< peachy. peanut butter? [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend's stash of condiments.

>>> I ran out. [12:12 am]

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It's not like he's a stranger to Cas's weird cravings when he's high. (There'd been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas 'N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean's conscience.) But he doesn't think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean's usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular "jelly, not jam"-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who's also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

<<< pretty sure i have some [12:14 am]

>>> :) [12:14 am]

>>> I'm coming over [12:14 am]

*

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn't mean that he ever would be (or for hell's sake, he'd scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, is.)

*

The second time had been early — way, way too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin' am on a Sunday. Like, that’s practically nighttime. 

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

>>> I miss you [6:28 am]

>>> I'd* miss you [6:29 am]

Dean's stomach twists, and he's not sure if it's in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

<<< what [6:32 am]

<<< wtf are you talking about? [6:32 am]

Nothing.

<<< cas? [6:33 am]

<<< dude [6:34 am]

<<< cas???? [6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can't stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin' toothbrush since he's already up, and now definitely awake. Cas was so paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically sags when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

>>> sorry, I had to make a call. [6:42 am]

>>> I'm not taking the job. [6:42 am]

*

And that's how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas's oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer's (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty') and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

And it's how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

"It's not who I am anymore." Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn't see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. "And if I go back there, I'm never getting out again."

Dean'd swallowed.

"I don't want to." Cas had said, voice trembling. "I am — my own person here. It shouldn't be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are you. I don't — I can't. I'm not going to let them take it away."

"Good." He'd sounded shaky to even himself. "Don't."

"Yes." Cas had promised. "I'm not going."

*

And eventually they'd moved past the heavy talk into why-didn't-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may've been the first person he'd confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn't mean he'd understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean's target of irritation and added, "They asked Gabriel too, by the way."

"And?" Dean didn't ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

"He's running off to Miami."

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, "And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me." 

At which point, of course, he'd started coughing instead, because holy shit, it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn't really sure how much longer he'd be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin' kitchen with the guy.

*

The third time's after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin' crunch, because goddamn is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other's, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and then, just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms - but then they'd separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he'd received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let's do it the way we're supposed to."

And Dean had known immediately what he'd meant. Let's not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let's...play safe.

"Okay. Uh," he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Thursday." Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It's at least midnight, it feels like he's been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn't asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he's not the only one — although he's better at hiding it (practise, he'd say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas's text.

>>> I think I'm falling in love with you [11:43 pm]

>>> already. [11:43 pm]

Dean is very grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

<<< so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby [11:44 pm]

>>> in my defense, it's been years. [11:44 pm]

<<< that part i get [11:44 pm]

<<< me too [11:44 pm]

<<< but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass [11:45 pm]

Jesus, he'd never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

>>> I'm texting. [11:46 pm]

And he guesses he'd never expected to giggle (he's alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

<<< good for you [11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They're idiots, sure, but nobody is this dumb.

<<< so when the fuck are you coming over then [11:50 pm]

>>> on my way <3 [11:50 pm]

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean's door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean's space like it's been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean's.

*

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he's found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean's cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas might just be a texter.

But Dean's pretty sure he's more than okay with it, so it doesn't really matter.

[featherymalignancy]

How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

——————————————————

Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

[valdomarx]

Anon requested: Person A thinks that a proposal would be a great way to get out of a jam. Person B thinks it is a sincere proposal and accepts. Realizing it wasn't done from a genuine place leads to some upset.

In Jaskier’s defence, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Marry me, Geralt!” he called, jogging over to his witcher, a little out of breath.

Geralt’s face pinched into something cross and Jaskier was sure he was about to be told to fuck entirely off.

“It’s the Belleteyn festival tonight,” he explained quickly. “I might have, erm, sown my seed a little more widely than would be advisable in the town.” Geralt scowled. “And there may have been some, ahem, threats against my person made by the local lord.“ Geralt’s scowl deepened. “But we can smooth it all over if we’re wed tonight. There’s some local custom -- forgiveness of past indiscretions for newly married couples on May Eve.“

Geralt was still glowering but he hadn’t said no yet. Jaskier pulled out his strongest move: He ducked his head, looked up at Geralt from under his lashes, and licked his lips. Geralt’s eyes followed the movement of his tongue almost imperceptibly.

“So marry me? Here. Tonight.”

.

It had been a lovely ceremony, as fake weddings go. There had been music and wine, dancing and merriment, and Geralt even allowed some of the local girls to braid flowers into his hair.

They’d only had enough coin for one ring, a simple silver band, so Jaskier had taken that and he’d given Geralt his father’s signet ring. He’d never have parted with it for anyone else, but it was Geralt. He knew without question he would keep it safe until this ruse was over with.

Perhaps there really was something magical in the air at that time of year, or maybe it was an evening spent at an increasingly raunchy celebration that did it. But after the festivities were over and the townsfolk returned to their homes, Geralt took Jaskier back to their campsite in the woods, laid him down on a bedroll with indescribable tenderness, and fucked him within an inch of his life.

It was everything Jaskier had been quietly fantasising about for years, except more because it was Geralt and even Jaskier’s profoundly vivid imagination couldn’t match the reality of his witcher, every glorious inch of muscle straining and taut, eyes blown wide with lust, taking Jaskier apart and piecing him back together again.

.

The next morning, Jaskier woke slowly, feeling the telling ache of a night well spent. Geralt was already up, packing up camp and loading their bags onto Roach.

“There’s oatmeal in the pot if you want breakfast,” Geralt grunted. “We should get going soon.” He turned back to his work.

Right. Okay. They just... weren’t going to talk about it then. Back to business as usual.

Jaskier shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course Geralt would be as pragmatic about sex as he was about everything else. A way to get some relief, to meet a need. No expectations.

Hell, it had taken Geralt over a decade to admit they were actually friends. Jaskier felt stupid for even hoping for more.

Sleeping together had been a one time deal, it seemed. Too bad.

.

Jaskier realised he was still wearing the ring a few hours later. He should take it off, get rid of it. Maybe sell it at the next town.

He should ask Geralt for his father’s ring back too. But it seemed somehow rude to ask, too needy.

And he... well, he sort of liked catching glimpses of it decorating Geralt’s finger, like a tiny piece of Jaskier was with him wherever he went.

Jaskier found his thumb rubbing over the silver band around his own finger over and over again. It was silly, he knew, but he liked the feel of it. He would keep it for now.

.

After that, things got weird. At lunch, Geralt tried to persuade Jaskier to eat the last of the apples, as if he didn’t know their supply was running low. And at dinner, Geralt hunted and prepared two squirrels for Jaskier instead of the customary one. Jaskier would eat just about anything in a pinch, but charred rodent was not something he felt the need for seconds of.

Everywhere they went, Geralt kept trying to foist food on him. Did he think that Jaskier was weak? That he wasn't able to keep up without extra supplies? Jaskier was, admittedly, not as young as he used to be, but he thought he still measured up pretty well in the fitness department. He didn’t love the implication that he was falling short in some way.

.

At night, Geralt would lay out their bedrolls close together. Close, but never touching. When he laid down, Jaskier could feel Geralt’s breath on the back of his neck, and his chest ached with want.

He waited every night for Geralt to sneak an arm around his waist and pull him close, or to lean forward and whisper an invitation in his ear. Jaskier would be on him in a second.

But he never did, and every night Jaskier berated himself again for being so foolish and tried to push the thoughts from his mind. It was hard being so close and yet so far from what he truly wanted, but he wouldn’t force Geralt into a situation he wasn’t comfortable with.

.

After a week of this Jaskier was truly beginning to lose his mind, and it was a relief when they came upon a small town where they could rest for the night. Jaskier could go out, find some company and distract himself from the hopeless longing settled in his bones, even if only for the night.

When he announced his intention to look around the town, Geralt said he would come along too. That wasn’t ideal for Jaskier’s plan of distraction, but he’d make it work. He always enjoyed Geralt’s company anyway.

There wasn't a lot going on in the town, but there was a pretty barmaid in the tavern, a cheerful red-haired lady with exuberant freckles and strong curves. She flashed a smile at Jaskier the moment they walked in.

Perfect. He smiled back, ordered two drinks, and set to flirting outrageously with her. She giggled and teased back, not seeming intimidated by Geralt‘s presence, even though he was growing notably testier as their interactions became more charged.

When she reached over the bar to twirl a finger through Jaskier’s hair, Geralt actually growled.

She backed off and looked at Geralt. “Didn’t mean any harm,” she said. “I’m just being friendly. Unless...” She looked down at their hands on the bar, apparently noting their rings, and then back to Jaskier. “Unless you’re spoken for. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Jaskier said with a laugh, just as Geralt said, “Yes, actually, we’re married.”

Jaskier stared at Geralt. Geralt stared at Jaskier. The barmaid held her hands up in the universal gesture for “none of my business, nothing to see here” and backed away to wipe down a table.

Every muscle in Geralt’s neck was tense and throbbing, and Jaskier had no idea what to say.

“Geralt,” he began, carefully. “is this about the other day? The ceremony? Did you... Did you think that was for real?”

Something pained flashed across Geralt’s face, an expression more raw than any Jaskier had seen on him before. Then he stood, turned, and bolted from the tavern.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called, getting to his feet. “Geralt, wait!”

By the time Jaskier was out of the door, Geralt was already disappearing down the dirt road, not turning back.

Ahh, fuck.

.

Jaskier left the girl at the tavern with a hurried apology, pausing only to throw their various possessions into bags and to load up Roach before heading out after Geralt. He knew bugger all about tracking, but he knew the direction Geralt was heading, and after that he relied on Roach’s instincts. She at least seemed confident in what to do.

He caught up to Geralt less than a mile outside of town. He was sat alone in a copse of trees just off the road, staring at the leaves.

He didn’t flee as Jaskier approached, though he didn’t turn to look at him either. “Geralt? I’m sorry. I was thoughtless. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Geralt stood slowly and turned to face him, though he avoided making eye contact. “It was a misunderstanding.” Geralt’s face was carefully blank, a look Jaskier recognised from times he was trying very hard to hide his emotions. “A wrong assumption on my part about the seriousness of the ceremony at Belleteyn.”

“Holy hell, Geralt.” Jaskier’s mind reeled. Geralt thought they had really been getting married, and he had been okay with that? “Does that mean... Would you actually want to be married to me?”

“It was stupid,” Geralt gritted out. Anyone else would have thought he was angry, but Jaskier knew him well enough to see he was hurt. “To think it was anything more than a distraction.”

No no no, that wasn’t right at all. Jaskier tried to take Geralt’s chin in his hand but Geralt turned his face forcefully away.

“Is that why you’ve been acting strange?” Jaskier thought back on it: the gifts of food, the aborted attempts at closeness, the feeling Geralt’s eyes on him constantly, checking his well-being.

“I thought...” Geralt wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I thought you wanted things to be normal. Like they always were.”

“If I were married to you for real, I wouldn’t act like everything was normal!” Jaskier exploded. “Damn it, Geralt. I’d kiss you every morning and hold you every night. And I’d tell everyone we met -- everyone -- that I was the luckiest person on the continent, because this is my husband, the one and only Geralt of Rivia, and he’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

Jaskier shut his mouth. Too late, though. Too late to take any of that back.

Geralt’s brow was pinched, though it didn’t quite look like a frown. It almost made him look thoughtful.

Finally he looked at Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Every morning?”

Jaskier felt all the fight leaving his body in one grand sweep. Geralt let him push him to his knees on the ground and allowed Jaskier to flop into his lap. Jaskier brushed a strand of hair from his face. “I’ve thought about kissing you every day for years,” Jaskier confessed.

And then he saw it -- one of Geralt’s oh-so-rare smiles. Not the forced grimace he adopted when he needed to look nonthreatening, or the tolerant lip twitch he’d give Jaskier when he was trying to be funny. No, this was a genuine Geralt smile, more precious than gemstones, the kind that lifted his entire face and reached his eyes.

Geralt threaded a hand into the back of his hair, brought their faces closer, and kissed him. At the touch of their lips every part of him went boneless, held up only by Geralt’s arms and a determination to make as much bodily contact as he possibly could.

His head was spinning by the time they pulled apart for air. Geralt’s eyes were sparkling, and Jaskier could have lost himself in that sight for the rest of his life and considered himself a lucky man.

Geralt leaned their foreheads together. “Will you stay with me?” he asked, very quietly. “Even if all I can offer you is charred squirrel and sleeping beneath the stars?”

“Always,” Jaskier promised, without a shadow of a doubt. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Through the good and the bad, the injuries and the pain, the plenty and the lean times. Through it all, he wanted to be with Geralt.

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his and slotted their fingers together. Their rings lay next to each other, the elaborate gold of Jaskier’s crest shining against Geralt’s pale skin and the smooth silver encircling his own finger like an embrace.

It was all startlingly clear. “Marry me, Geralt,” he said, his heart welling over. “For real this time.”

[stressedoutcanary]

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 3]

What this includes: Violence, a combo of angst and fluff, and just to be on the safe side I’d say language.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N😋: I am so glad it’s finally finished, now it won’t be sitting in my drafts staring at me all day. Also forgive me for any mistakes, half of it is written at 3 AM

Part 1 , Part 2

•°•°•°•°

“This is it”, you breathed out, stopping your bike near a bush making sure that place was obscure enough. You placed the helmet on the handle and hopped off the bike. After taking a few steps forward and scouting the area, you clicked your comms back on.

“O care to give me the layout of what I am getting myself into, ‘cause we all know the last time didn’t go so well”

“Nightwing said you might call me for backup and now I owe him 20 uggh! Anyways onto the problem at hand, I’m picking up a few heat signatures from the basement area and the schematics of the building indicate a vent on the other side which might help you get in.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

There was no reply on the other end and you assumed she was looking into it. To your bad luck, it was far from it. You heard an all too familiar grunt and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting that it was an open line.

“(Y/N), I thought I made myself clear”, Bruce’s modulated voice came through which low-key made you want to strangle him with your bare hands.

“Oh come on B! Didn’t Alfred teach you that listening in on other people’s conversations is bad manners”

“We are 10 minutes out you will not be going in till we get there”

‘Like Hell I won’t’

“Hello? B? Your voice is breaking up. I can’t hear you! there is some interference in the signal. Batman?”

“Don’t- ” you clicked the comms off before he could finish his sentence and breathed a sigh of relief. ”Note to self after what you just did, avoid showing your face to anyone in the fam for at least a week.”

Snooping around, you came across the vent Babs told you about and you smirked to yourself, “Bless those idiots who decided to make an excess amount of vents throughout Gotham, plus no dumbass to shoot open the lock on any door, huh I’d say it’s going pretty good for me.”

After going through a very, very dusty vent, you silently dropped down to floor behind a goon and cleared your throat to draw his attention. As soon as he turned around, his jaw was met with your right hook, making him plummet to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar you inched closer to his face, which was yet again fully covered by a white mask.

“Alright no-face, tell me where Pyg is right now”, you made use of your deep modulated voice, making the man dart his eyes towards the far right corner of the room. You knew what that meant and without wasting any more time, you knocked him out and scurried over, finding a heavy door at the end. Somehow managing to push open the door, you were faced with a circular stairwell leading down.

“Well Oracle did say she got heat signatures down in the basement.”, you sighed and started taking calculated steps, making sure to check for any traps. ‘Why keep only one person to guard your supersecret creep-house? Either Lazlo is way too overconfident or way too crazy... Probably both.’, you thought, wheels turning in your head, hoping to make sense of the situation. As you went down, you could catch a faint sound of music. ‘Is that Opera?! Well at least it fits his M.O.’

The end of the stairwell opened into a large room. You hid behind one of wooden crates as your mind swiftly accessed the grim ambience; Pyg was sharpening his knife swaying along with opera music playing in the background but Jason was nowhere to be found. Your breath hitched and your blood ran cold, it felt as if the world around you was spinning.

‘What if... what if it’s too late’  Crouching down on the ground with your back to the crate your took in several deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t think like that, not when you’re so close. You wiped the stray tear which escaped the tightness of your cowl and had trailed down your cheek. You tried to focus instead of jumping to conclusions.

You frowned upon noticing something odd on the wall in front of you, placing your palms on it, you gave it a slight push. To your surprise it paved way for an attached corridor which clearly didn’t come up in the schematics Oracle told you about. You slipped into the corridor, making sure that nobody saw you. Your feet froze for a slight second on the sight you were met with; cages like prison cells lined up in a row with people inside of them.

“The people who went missing”, you whispered to yourself, still reeling in the shock of it all. Upon hearing a familiar groan you sprinted across the pathway to the source, eyes scanning every inch of the person you found, the person you were here to rescue. You fumbled with the lock for a while, muttering curses under your breath until it clicked open. You dashed to his side and took a batarang out to cut the binds he was in.

“Jay if you die on me again, I swear I will kill you.”

“Been there, done that princess and honestly not a fan of it”, Jason croaked out, his reply came out weaker and voice barely above a whisper. It made your heart clench in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. You lifted your head up, you gave him a soft smile, gently brushing off the matted hair on his forehead, 

“Jason I..”

‘Just tell him you love him you coward, It’s really not that hard’

“Jason I’m glad you’re okay”, you blurted out in way which was far from normal but he seemed way too tired to noticed. 

‘COWARD’

“How did you get free?”, he inquired, thankfully interrupting your internal yelling.

“I didn’t? I literally just walked in here to get you out.”

“But I thought-”, Jason looked utterly confused as he rubbed his wrists to ease the pain caused by the rope.

“Well long story short. You got captured. I was saved by Harley and Ivy, had a nice chat with them, and then I might have been responsible for Batman’s high blood pressure, and then I emotionally blackmailed Nightwing into giving me your location and then here I am”

“Wha...Yeah I will just pretend I totally understand whatever the hell you just said.”, Jason sighed, he tried to stand up but his feet wobbled and if it wasn’t for you catching him on time h would’ve staggered to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm”, he hummed lightly leaning his weight on you. “Just a little dizzy, probably from the dehydration, It could also be because of the blood loss from the stab wound I got”

“The WHAT?!”, you looked at him like he was crazy.  

“Oh yeah I think I kinda forgot to tell you that the creepy dude tried to cut me open but my armor got in the way so he stabbed me instead and went away saying he had to sharpen his knife or something like that”, he started to slur and you knew you had to get him back to the cave as quickly as possible. You helped him get up on his feet, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapping one of your arms around his waist.

“Oh my God! Jay, you don’t just bring this sort of thing up in casual conversation!”, you shook your head and started taking small steps with him towards the way you came from. Suddenly a loud crash was heard followed by a couple of screams making the both of you share a nervous glance.

“What was that?”

“Only one way to find out”, you said as you walked through the door back into the large room. 

It was pure chaos, more like a free-for-all. Nightwing jogged up to you. 

“We did say we were 10 minutes out didn’t we?”, he gave you a bright smile and swung Jason’s free arm over his shoulder to help you support him better.

“Good, now since you are here, hold him”, you shifted Jason’s weight towards Dick.

“Hey-”

“Don’t even”, he glared daggers at his elder brother, “What are you even doing? I feel like a baby being passed around”

You ignored Jason’s whining in the background and fixed your gaze on the one person in the room who would soon face your wrath. The rest had already cleared up the goons and Pyg was the only one left. You narrowed your eyes and cracked your knuckles, making your way over to him.

By the time you reached Pyg he was already backing away from Batman and one murderous looking Robin, turning around he tried to make a run for it but was ultimately met with your fist, a sickening crack was heard and no one was quite sure whether it was from his mask, his jaw or both. Pyg was out cold and you shrugged at the duo in front of you while Dick and Jason made their way over.

“Remind me never to get on her bad side ever again.”, Jason whispered as both the boys looked completely terrified of you. You walked over to Bruce and held out your hand. He didn’t seem to catch the drift, for being the world’s greatest detective, he was quite dumb sometimes.

“The keys to the batmobile, unless you want Mr. surprise-I-got-stabbed over here to bleed out.”

After placing Jason into the passenger seat you hopped into the driving one. 

“Also there are people in the back, you know, the missing ones, so good luck with the clean up I guess.”, you called out before before closing the hood of the batmobile. 

You were on the road heading straight for the cave when you realized Jason wasn’t answering your questions anymore.

“Jason?”, you stole a glance at him and he was as pale as a ghost, “Shit!”, you yelled as you jammed your foot on the accelerator. 

•°•°

Jason woke up to the dull beeping of multiple monitors and by the looks of the place, he concluded he was in fact in the batcave. As he regained some control over his senses, he saw you sitting on a chair beside his bed. You were sound asleep but he could see worry etched on your face even in your slumber. Looking at you, Jason wished he had the courage to say what his heart felt instead he just went ahead taking your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. You stirred awake at that.

“Hey! You’re up!”, you stood up abruptly and hugged him tightly. To him it felt as if you were actually afraid of what might happen if you let go of him.

“I told you I don’t do dying anymore. It sucks.”

You finally pulled away from him, a smile tugging at your lips. Jason glanced at your hand, taking it in his once again, he ran his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“I knew you had a mean right hook, guess I just forgot how mean”, Jason said smirking at you. You didn’t pull away from him as he had expected in his head instead you just scoffed at the statement. 

“The next time you forget that, allow me to give you a reminder by demonstration Bird-Brain”, you called him by the name you often used back then. At first it was to annoy your very annoying best friend but then it stuck around but hadn’t used that nickname ever since he came back. You both realized that. A silence fell over the once playful conversation, his eyes found the celling and yours found your lap. After a while you cleared you throat to get his attention and he looked at you, his expressions were borderline unreadable.

“Jason I-I should go now, but don't worry I’ll get Alfred back here”, You got up and moved towards the door of the med-bay, scrunching your eyes shut you released a shaky breath.

‘It’s now or never (Y/N)’ 

“Jason when you get better, there is this place I have been meaning to take you to, with me of course.”

“Sure I’ll go”

“So tomorrow sounds good?”

“Tomorrow sounds good”, he repeated after you breaking into a grin. Your cheeks flushed and you had to take a sharp turn to hide the blush on your face. You mentally smacked yourself for behaving like a teen asking her crush out on a date for the first time. 

•°•°

The next night Jason met you on the roof of the Wayne tower.

“Please tell me this isn’t the place you wanted to see with me”, he chuckled behind you and you turned around to give him a quick hug.

“It’s not that bad of a place, plus I can throw you off here too if you get on my nerves”, you laughed at his faux scandalised face.

“You wound me”

“In case you forgot you are already wounded, drama queen, plus its your lucky day, this is not where we will be spending our evening. Just follow me and don’t get lost on the way”, you winked and jumped off the edge, him following the suit.

When you both reached the place you had in mind, the place Jason cherished when he was Robin, the expression on his face was priceless. It was like a mixture of awe and surprise with a hint of sadness.

“How did you find out about this?”, Jason inquired after a while of reminiscing. 

“Gee how indeed, ‘cause it cannot be the fact that I am detective who’s life is influenced by at least a dozen detectives and it’s most definitely not the fact that for me, you aren’t that difficult to figure out”

“Touché”

Jason chuckled at your usual playful sarcasm, his eyes were twinkling with something which felt more than just momental adoration and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile of your own. You made your way over to him, looking at the visible skyline for a brief moment, Jason watched as you sat down on the ledge with your legs dangling off, patting the space beside you gestured him to join you. 

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for a while, so might as well sit down and get comfortable”, you shrugged as he nodded and sat down beside you, placing his elbow on his bent knee. You both enjoyed the few minutes of comfortable silence, watching cars pass by below and the moon lit starry sky above.

“I am starting to see why you liked it here”

“Yeah...”

“Alfred told me”

“Huh?”, Jason looked at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words.

“After you...were gone, Alfred told me, he told me that this was your happy place, though I still can’t believe you had a favorite gargoyle”, stifling a laugh you somehow managed to continue, “Anyway so as I saying, ever since I found out about it, I used to come here every night when I got free from patrol, come to think of it I still do, sometimes”

You could feel his heavy gaze boring into you making you immediately regret bringing up this conversation. 

“Why?”, he finally inquired. You didn’t know whether to feel relived or be tense, but it was now or never, releasing a shallow breath you glanced at him, words flowing out on their own accord. 

“Even back then I knew everyone dies at some point and all we can do is try and find some meaning in it, in the memories they leave behind and I guess me wanting to be here, it was a part of me trying to do that and it made me feel somewhat connected to you so I kept doing it; Coming here, spending any time I could spare and leaving before the crack of dawn and before I knew it, it had become a habit.”

“So you did miss me”, he gave you a sad smile and wrapped his hand around your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze. 

“Of course I did you dumbass, I was best friend.”, you gave him a nudge and leaned your cheek on his chest, sighing deeply.

“The reason I avoided you after you came back was because I was scared”, you whispered, hoping it would sound less real that way. Jason pulled back a bit to take in your features and you could hear the strain in his voice, a hint of sadness in it.

“Scared of me?”

“Jason I wasn’t scared of you, I can never be, I was scared for you. I was afraid of losing you again. Every time you come back I lose you all over again and I am honestly tired of it and I thought that maybe if I kept my distance I--”

“Won’t get hurt again?”

“Yeah, something like that”

A moment passed where no one spoke anything, both of you running the scenarios of what might happen next in your brains. An idea clicked in your head and you abruptly got to your feet startling Jason in the process. Offering him your hand and a sheepish smile, you got him to his feet.

“I am tired of being scared Jason. I want this. I want us and for that I am willing to take a chance, are you?”, he stepped closer to you, his scent invading your senses.  

“For you (Y/N), anything. You should know that by now, plus I feel the same way, I have for a while now”, Jason breathed out as he pulled you in for a deep kiss leaving you dizzy for a while after you pulled away for air. Placing your foreheads together, you found yourselves grinning like idiots yet again in the two successive nights. Jason’s stomach growled, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Hungry?”

“You really gotta ask?”, raising an eyebrow, he tried to look offended but ultimately melted against you as you pressed your lips on his for a brief moment.

“I know a place”, you murmured, lips brushing against his and before he could register what was happening you already had a grapnel gun in your hands, smirking as you jumped off the ledge.

“Last one there is a rotten egg hoodie!!”

“Hey! But I don’t even know where it is!”

“Not my fault Bird-Brain!”

Jason jumped on after you, smiling to himself. Both of you were thinking the same thing ‘maybe this was finally the start of a new chapter; something new, something scary and something beautiful altogether’

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @ladyperceval

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

well... this was taking forever so just gonna leave it here and say it’s done? as always, it ended up longer than intended, then I wasn’t going to include all the scenes then I thought well it’s all written anyhow so, may as well...

1.18

It seemed like ages until the scene was secure and documented; there was so much to deal with between the dead art thief and his house full of stolen treasures.

As usual, Weller was running the show so Jane had little to do except keep an eye on the irritating criminal who had gotten them all involved in the unlikely scheme. Which was enough of a task in itself, as Rich had started jabbering again, once he'd gotten over the shock of seeing the damaged painting.

"That was a pretty slick move you guys pulled off back there, even if it did almost destroy a priceless piece of art," he commented.

"All that silent communication, interpreting body language, talking with the eyes stuff, if you will. That is 100% my jam."

"Especially in the heat of the moment, with lives on the line. You two must have worked together a long time to read each other that well."

Jane flashed Rich the fiercest glare she could manage, while simultaneously checking around to see if Allie was within earshot. Although she knew he was just trying to rile them all up by getting underneath their skin, it was hard not to feel tense whenever he opened his mouth.

Even when she kind of liked what he was saying.

Jane shook her head mentally as she felt her stomach swim with conflicted emotions. She wanted what was best for Kurt, and Allie seemed to be a perfect fit. No matter how much it hurt to see another woman in his life, she knew it couldn't be her place. Not with everything she was hiding from him; all that she really was.

And yet she hadn't entirely hated Rich's commentary, said just loudly enough that she and Allie could overhear him at the doorway.

Tell me again why you're with Allie? When Jane's the one you look to first whenever anything goes wrong, or goes right for that matter?

Weller hadn't even denied it, and that was another thing altogether.

"You realize you do it too, right?"

Jane snapped out of her reverie and turned her head back towards Rich, doing her best to appear uninterested in whatever he was about to say.

"You're always watching him, checking in. Like he's your responsibility."

"I mean, I get it. You're like partners and all. That intense bond between cops, that's actually one of my fetishes, unlikely as it might seem…"

"Shut up, Rich," Jane growled, unwilling to let him go any further into his thought.

Of course she didn't bother to tell him that they weren't partners in any sense of the word and had not been working together for long at all. Especially not when they'd first encountered the mouthy criminal, when they'd supposedly had so much chemistry.

It was true though. No matter how much she'd tried to shrug it off, she'd felt it. The way he touched her; even back then. It had seemed so easy, and right. Just like how they did look to each other first, whenever something happened.

She'd never even questioned it, the way in which she and Weller worked so perfectly in sync. It had just always been the way between them, even way back at the start when he'd trusted in her abilities more than she did.

"Okay, okay, sorry, I just thought it'd be a good chance to put it out there, seeing as how you're definitely not pining over Stubbles, and we have some chemistry too. I mean not like the way it is between you two of course. But if he's not willing to see what he has, then…"

"Rich!"

Allie was walking by and gave him a solid death stare before closing her eyes tiredly and striding away. Jane exhaled irritably in Rich's ear, hoping it would at least keep him quiet until the Marshal was out of earshot again.

"She looks like she has a headache," Rich mused. "She should probably get that checked out; you should see the studies on concussions coming out these days. I mean I'd be pretty worried if my girlfriend got knocked out like that."

Jane frowned, both in concern at Allie's head and at Rich's implication. Weller had checked on Allie right away, as soon as he could. But then she thought about the conversation that had followed, where Allie had said she was seeing two of him.

At the time Jane had just assumed it was mostly a joke, a way to shrug off the injury. It was something she would do herself, in an attempt to throw off Weller's overprotectiveness.

But then Kurt had taken Allie at her word and had gotten right back to work. He hadn't even demanded that she get checked out by a doctor, or tried to tell her to rest while he dealt with the scene.

Jane couldn't help but remember all the times she'd been forced into the medical room by him, after taking much smaller hits than the one that had left Allie unconscious. Maybe Weller just felt he couldn't tell Allie what to do because she worked for another agency and wasn't under his command. And yet she knew that wasn't it.

"I'm sure Allie's fine," Jane said, scowling in an attempt to deter any more comments.

Rich nodded sagely, as if agreeing with her. But of course he still didn't shut up.

"I'm sure she is," he mused. "I mean, Weller's her man and he doesn't seem worried at all."

Of course both Weller and Allie came within hearing range at that moment, making Jane close her eyes in dismay. No matter what she did, Rich's non-stop commentary wouldn't stop.

"I'm sure he'd be just the same if you were showing obvious signs of brain trauma."

Jane groaned inwardly as Kurt stepped closer and frowned at Rich's words, before turning towards her and looking into her eyes carefully.

"Did you take a hit I didn't see?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," Jane sighed. "He's just going on about nothing again."

But of course Rich nudged her with his elbow and raised his eyebrows suggestively as Allie stepped up beside them. And still Kurt's eyes remained on Jane for a long pause before finally accepting that she really was okay.

"Let's get back to the NYO," Weller finally said, sounding annoyed at the situation in general.

"We need to figure out what to do about the damaged painting"

Jane exhaled in relief, glad to get away from the irritation of babysitting Rich. He seemed determined to screw with their heads, and their hearts. And, despite the little twinge of joy she got from hearing the mouthy criminal go on about how she and Kurt should be together, Jane knew that it was wrong. She hated the idea of breaking up Weller's relationship, especially because Oscar had tasked her with just that. Kurt deserved to have someone that was as great as Allie seemed to be; someone who could make him happy.

She had to find a way to tell him.

Even if it ended up being as awkward as it played out in her head.

###

Allie Knight walked out of the conference room at the NYO, fuming on so many levels. Getting played by Rich Dotcom after agreeing to his wild scheme and dealing with his 'insightful' comments all day was already making her a little crazy. And then there was Kurt.

He'd been pissing her off since that morning. The worst part was he was completely oblivious to it; had no idea he'd done anything wrong.

Which in turn made her even more mad. And maybe a little bit sad.

It had been going so well, or so she had thought. He'd even invited her to meet his dad, an unbelievable occurrence in more than one way.

But you knew, Allie told herself. You asked and he answered.

What's the deal between you and Jane?

That is not what this is about.

But obviously it was, even if he somehow couldn't see it.

She couldn't even be pissed off at Jane, who seemed to be doing everything she could to stay out of their relationship. Surprisingly, Allie actually kind of liked the other woman, despite her obvious effect on Kurt.

But the way he looked at her and acted around her. That wasn't the Kurt Weller Allie knew. That was some other man, full of emotion and a softness she didn't recognize at all.

Their relationship was still mostly based on mental and physical release; which was why the invitation to family dinner had seemed like a big step. But even though she'd come over and met his dad, Allie had always had the sense that she'd never really know all of him. Weller would always be that guy with her; good-hearted and fun but emotionally guarded. Yet it was obvious that he wasn't like that with Jane.

She could feel him walking out of the room just behind her and knew it was time to make a choice. He'd shown his hand, with far too many tells.

When she'd walked in on them that morning, it wasn't so much that Jane was hugging him. It was that Kurt had let himself be so emotionally vulnerable in front of her; crying while letting himself be held. And it had been pretty clear that they would have been there for awhile if she hadn't interrupted.

If she'd hugged him, of course he would have accepted it too. But a little stiffly and definitely with dry eyes; as if trying not to take too much comfort from it. He would have been her Kurt, so desperate to remain in control of his feelings that he buried them deep and pretended they weren't there.

Allie sighed, knowing what she had to do and yet still a little reluctant to let go. It had already been a shit day, right from that awkward moment in the locker room onwards. Goddamned Rich and his stupid escapades and his never-ending spiel of comments.

She was pissed at herself for letting him win, both in his plot and in his head games. But Allie had to admit he'd really only vocalized what had been itching at her the entire time. Kurt did look to Jane first, and worry about her more than anyone else. It was impossible not to see when around them.

"All right, so we gonna wash the day away with some nice scotch?" Weller asked.

Allie turned and swallowed back the last of her regret.

"I think I'm gonna pass," she replied.

"Why?" Kurt asked, reaching out for her.

"Hang on."

Allie sighed internally as she stopped and faced him. He really had no idea.

"Because of what Rich said on the roof?" Weller asked.

"He was just trying to throw us all off balance."

"It's not about what he said, all right. It's about what I saw," Allie retorted, feeling all of her annoyance ball up in her throat.

"And what'd you see?"

Did he really not understand how it looked from the outside? Especially to the people who knew him the best. Or even to the criminal who'd only met them twice.

"That there's something between you and Jane, okay?" Allie stated.

"I don't know what it is, and I don't know if you know what it is. But don't make me feel crazy by pretending it's not there."

To his credit, Weller didn't try and argue. Just stood there dumbstruck as Allie declared that she needed some space and strode off before the sadness kicked in.

Walking away, she felt both lighter and heavier all at once.

Even if he didn't know it, she'd confirmed that day what she'd always suspected - that she'd never have all of his heart. It was entirely possible he was lying to himself about how he felt; she knew those Kurt Weller walls and his ability to burrow behind them. But she couldn't lie to herself anymore.

So she wasn't going to let him hide behind her anymore, use her as a way to avoid the truth that they all could see. He was in love with Jane and couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Even if he couldn't admit it to himself.

It stung a little but not as much as Allie thought. Every step forward in their relationship had been a struggle, and now she understood why. Seeing him with Jane was like being around a different man.

Now it was just time for both of them to accept it and move on.

###

"I don't know what it is, and I don't know if you know what it is. But don't make me feel crazy by pretending it's not there."

He hadn't denied it because she was right of course. Well, and also because he'd been a bit stunned; somehow hadn't seen it coming at all. Even after dealing Rich's comments all day, Weller thought Allie's skin would have been thicker. But then her words sank in and he forced himself to actually look at his behaviour.

What Kurt realized was he'd been doing his best to pretend that none of it existed. All the ways Jane made him feel, every time he looked to her first. After he'd declared her off limits in his own mind, he'd tried so hard to treat her the same as everyone else. And obviously failed miserably at it, as pointed out by the annoyingly observant Rich Dotcom.

So Weller hadn't examined what it was, or put words to it. But, then again, it wasn't like he didn't know. Jane made him feel things that were entirely new, all the time. The emotions he'd gone through in the relatively short while that she'd been in his life were so intense, sometimes he was completely overwhelmed by them.

Kurt watched Allie walk away, feeling bad about the situation in various ways. He thought he'd been successfully avoiding the mistakes of the past with her. But he knew she was right too. He wasn't being honest with himself or with her.

Weller walked down the hall in a daze, angry and sad and everything in between. They'd gotten played by a smart-mouthed crook and then he'd gotten dumped. Oh, and his dad was dying.

He really needed that scotch.

"Hey, are you okay?"

His neck tingled at the sound of her voice and his head snapped up to meet concerned eyes.

"Fine," Weller deflected, feeling his heart rate start to amp up. She'd caused him so much stress that day and yet none of it was her fault at all.

"Um, I'm sorry about today," Jane said, a bit timidly. "I wish he would have just shut up."

He shook his head, having had the same thought the entire mission. He would have given anything to close the whole thing down and send the mouthy criminal back to maximum security. But he also couldn't get Rich's words out of his head.

"Tell me again why you're not with Jane?"

"Some would say it means that you're more worried/excited about her."

"Life's too short, Jane. Follow your heart. Tell Weller how you feel."

Now though, the irritation at having a criminal comment far too astutely on his love life had mostly seeped out. But that meant Kurt was just left standing there with the obvious truth in Rich's words still ringing in his mind; all while Jane was standing in front of him looking too worried for his liking.

How did she feel?

And why did his heart thump even harder just at the thought?

"He was just trying to mess with us," Weller said. "Don't worry about it."

"None of this is your fault."

Jane's expression lost a little of that guilty edge, and she offered him a small smile, as if she was trying her best to believe him.

He wanted to deflect her attention from that line of thought, trying to put it out of his own head too. Searching for another topic to focus on, his mind traitorously turned back to that morning, where he'd broken down in front of her and found himself crying in her arms.

The comfort he'd found within them had been immediate and somehow familiar; even though he normally felt awkward accepting hugs. Even now he was somehow okay with how much emotion he'd shown her and how soothing it had felt to be held by her.

He wanted that comfort right now too, for her to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Of course he didn't give in to that inclination but it gave him an inspiration; a way to distract both of them from the day they'd just had.

"Hey, I'm about to head to the hospital to see my dad. Do you want to come?"

Jane's eyes lit up at the idea, like she was so happy to be able to do something for him. And Weller couldn't deny how it felt in his chest, seeing a shy hopeful grin tug at her lips as she nodded eagerly.

He hated that Rich was right. He did look to her first.

And it seemed like the entire world already knew why.

###

The entire day had been so incredibly awkward. Yet slipping her hand into his and tucking their fingers together felt so normal and comforting. And when Weller returned her tentative squeeze with a more forceful one, Jane finally remembered to breathe.

For a long moment they just stood there silently, and Jane could see that Kurt was doing his best to contain his emotions but they continued to spill out. He'd been so thankful to her for visiting his dad, which felt good in a way. But then there was the lie.

She felt so guilty. And yet, the little lie had made him so happy. The look on his face when she said she'd remembered. It broke her heart.

So there she was, standing there with his hand in hers, wishing she never had to let go. That he could be hers.

Tell Weller how you feel.

There was so much she wanted to tell him that she couldn't. Especially now, when he was with Allie and his dad was dying. What would she tell him anyways? That she had plotted all this, planted herself in his life and had known it for weeks now but not told him. Oh and I'm in love with you, that too.

She'd tried to tell him just the opposite, in the most awkward way she could come up with. She still cringed thinking about it.

So Jane just stayed silent until Kurt let go and started to set up an emotional wall.

"I should take you home," he said, staring at his feet.

"You can stay, I can make my own way back," she said, sensing he was on the verge of something he didn't want to share.

"No, I don't want…" he stammered.

"It's hard to be here alone and he's going to be out for awhile now."

She wanted to reach for him again but held back. He wasn't hers, she had to remember that.

"Okay, let's go then," Jane said.

Weller was distant, a little lost looking on the way back to the car. She wondered what he was thinking about, if he wanted to talk about it.

He isn't yours she reminded herself again. He had someone to talk to if he needed to.

And yet when they sat in the car and he was still so quiet, it was all she could do not to physically reach for him. He kept glancing over but didn't say anything, and she couldn't think of anything that didn't sound trite.

When they got to her safe house, he insisted on seeing her in even though she told him it wasn't necessary. At the door, she turned and he was giving her an undefinable look.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Weller turned his head quickly, wearing that same sad frown that made him look so vulnerable. But then he reshaped his features, attempting a small smile but not quite succeeding.

"Yeah, it's just been a long day, and not a very good one," he muttered.

"I know… I'm sorry," she started, feeling the need to apologize for everything going so wrong at the penthouse party.

"No, you did everything you could," he said. "We should have never let him set any of this up."

He shook his head and looked so weary.

"It's just been hard. I messed it all up. I should… I need… "

Weller sputtered a bit, losing his words again. And just the same as that morning, Jane instinctively reached for him, wrapping her arms around him.

He was shuddering a little and she pulled him close, wishing she really could tell him how she felt. Instead, she was just offering him some comfort, for whatever his unspoken need might be.

After awhile she realized he was crying into her shoulder, at about the same time he came to that realization as well.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to…"

"Shhh, it's okay," she soothed. "You can let it out, I won't tell anyone."

He laughed against her, then cried some more. And Jane had to admit she wanted nothing else than to keep on holding him, telling him everything was alright.

So for that moment at least, she did.

I love you Kurt Weller, she thought. And I want to hold onto you forever.

That's what Rich would want me to say.

[causticsunshine]

HEYYY!! since you’re a returning larrie, what are the proofs that made you realize they’re still together still going strong ? (see what I did there lol okay bye sorry 😭)

hello! (and yes i did thank you asjfkdkd) sorry this is going to be a bit of a Journey because my time in the fanbase in the og days was pretty isolating and i was going through some Shit for the latter half sooo it might come as a surprise how things turned around for me!

BUT when i came back last year, i started looking into everything from the very beginning because when i left, i completely left. like, didn’t check up on anything or anyone, was super embittered and unhappy and basically believed all the stuff i thought about harry and louis’ relationship was an illusion. so, i wanted to see if everything really was just something i believed because other people said they did, or there was actually something there.

like i won’t lie, i was already drifting in and out of the fanbase in early 2015 and then babygate took me super off-guard—somehow—and was kinda my last straw? so coming back i was thinking, “okay was i actually delusional for four years, or did i let something that was most definitely a stunt coupled with some feelings of resentment undo everything i believed?” because over the four or so years even as i’d randomly listen to some solo music and the old jams i’d get back to thinking about larry and well, after my re-education and some reading into the post-hiatus stunts? it was definitely the latter.

i guess coming back i was kinda on the fence about them still being together without ever having a hard break though, but only because i was still trying to make sense of the big stunt timelines—at least just for a little while—but it didn’t take long for me to make up my mind like “oh nah these bitches have been in love for a whole ass decade”. really, looking into everything from their music released post-1d hiatus to when they’d both seemingly disappear and then reappear around the same time (like i see you, jamaican holidays, and maybe italy too), anon receipts taken with both a grain of salt and a lot of wishful thinking, collectively told me they were together?

if i had to pick some key moments though, i’d definitely go for:

— harry’s “i fell in love to this song” before performing wmyb on tour and straight up not singing louis’ parts in some 1d songs

— louis back pedaling on his stories about listening to abba with his ‘best friend’ and jamming along to 1d on a drive with the same ‘best friend’....like you cannot expect me to believe when he hastily added in the OH AND ME GIRLFRIEND ELEANOR WAS THERE TOO with the latter that that wasn’t damage control, or that ollie was the one who was the supposed best friend in these contexts

— b-stage my beloved....i think about harry looking up in the stands with that special smile and blowing kisses and i know we don’t see him all the time or wholly know him like a friend but i have never seen him give anyone that kind of look before except for louis :’)

— “‘i went to amsterdam without you’ is about going to amsterdam with me girlfriend.....” bro why are you missing her if she’s right there....is it because you ditched her on her birthday to chill with some fellow homosexuals on the gay strip?? and/or because your real beloved actually wasn’t with you??

— ‘come so far since princess park’ aka is there a nonspecific heterosexual explanation for this because i will never believe his intention with that line was to showcase how much has happened to him personally since then, when he and harry were gushing over living together there years after the fact

— harry and kasey musgraves performing shania twain’s iconic love song and kasey changing the lyrics to ‘they’re still together’ to fit a third person narrative instead of just satisfying the role in the duet and harry’s knowing smile when she sang that line like....i guess i love to weep??

— aaaand the interview in which clifford—like audio ‘proofs’ are kinda hard for me to follow because i’m hoh but my ass definitely heard harry hissing something that sounded like ‘clifford’ so i’m counting it—totally gave harry away by barking like a maniac in the background before (presumably) louis yanked him into another room...i definitely think they’ve done video call interviews while the other one has been in the room watching the whole thing (i swear harry was in the room during louis’ hits radio interview for example)

there really are a lot of convincing moments when i really think about it buuut i’ll stop there, because it really was a combination of everything from delving into how some post-hiatus stunts were/are so obvious—louis clearly loathing danielle, eleanor following or preceding every louis post with a hashtag spon, holivia being dead obvious pr fodder while hamille was pointedly formulaic, the entire nonsense that is babygate—to very surface-level lyric analysis, rather than one or two specific events. some may speak louder or not require as much analyzing or investigating as others but all-in-all i think the collective is more reliable than one or two particular moments!

but yeah. there’s just so MUCH that while it’s not as obvious as the old days where we got to see them showcase their love even when they couldn’t sit next to each other in an interview or change lyrics to make their love songs more personal in front of thousands of fans—ie just being in the same vicinity and getting to watch them interact, really—the hinting is nowhere close to non-existent. it’s there, just less obvious and maybe better planned.

tldr; i came back, did some digging, and i’m still:

every god damn day of my life

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Sneaking Around | Chapter Twelve

Lysandra’s POV

Lysandra was not giving up. There was no way Aelin was going to reveal her boyfriend before Lys caught them, that she would make certain of. Aelin was smart, very smart. But Lysandra was smarter.

Their office building was not a particularly large one. Not that it wasn’t still many, many people, but she would take all the help she could get.

The bar wouldn’t have fit everybody; they must have only invited certain departments or something; Lysandra couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered; Lys had the guest list.

The bar was rather sizable. It had been reserved for the night, and dozens of people had attended. Only half were men (thank the Gods Aelin wasn’t bi) and these men were then narrowed down.

Aedion had been crossed off the list of course, being Aelin’s brother. The twins and Rowan were with Lys when Aelin got her alibi checked, so there was no way it could be them. Snooping had found one employee on vacation during a time she knew Aelin was at the mystery man’s place.

Lysandra was methodical and believed in exhausting all possibilities, but she was getting desperate. She decided to eliminate the men in a known relationship. She doubted Aelin would carry on with a cheater, and she certainly wouldn’t bring him to a party as her date.

Elide was the receptionist; despite her sweet nature, she knew all the gossip. Lys had coerced her into coming over last night, the only person to show up to her gathering. They had used Elide’s pool of knowledge to eliminate Chaol, Aelin’s ex who was now dating someone named Yrene; Nox, dating some girl whose name they didn’t know; and Ress, newly engaged.

The list being significantly smaller than when it was first made, Lysandra then called all the remaining men and questined them while Elide tried to muffle her giggling in the background.

Laying in bed the next morning, Lysandra thought of those conversations.

“Hello Tern, it’s Lysandra from security. It’s been so long since we’ve talked, and I was just wondering what plans you have for the holidays.”

A dozen phone calls later, Lysandra was stumped. Why? Because every single one of them was going to their parents’.

Yes, they might have lied. But if that was the case, she couldn’t trust a single conversation. She had gone over every possibility with Elide and they had agreed: it was time for a stakeout.

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Elide asked, sitting next to Lysandra in the latter’s car in Aelin’s parking lot the night after yesterday’s meeting.

Lys rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. We agree we need to find out who it is. So close to the party - and to you leaving for your parents’ place with Lorcan - lists just aren’t going to cut it anymore. I honestly wish I’d done this sooner. And if you’re going to have doubts, walk home and I’ll do it myself.”

“No, no, I’ll stay.” When Lysandra grinned at Elide, El elaborated, “Just to keep matters in control if you insist on doing it even if I leave.”

“If you say so.” Lys knew Elide just had to find out almost as much as she did, and her paltry excuses weren’t cutting it.

“Um. What now? Do you even know?”

Lysandra giggled. “I work in security. Of course I know.”

“Does the security department usually involve themselves in stakeouts?”

“Well, no, but... It can’t be too hard to figure it out. We just sit. And watch. And wait.”

Elide frowned. “I have to pee.”

A sigh from Lysandra. “There’s a gas station down the street if it’s an emergency. Otherwise, suck it up.”

“If Aelin’s car isn’t here, why are we expecting her boyfriend to show up?”

“She might have a change of clothes or whatever, but even so, Aelin can’t stay there forever. She might come back, whether it’s to stay or pick something up or whatever. If the dude isn’t with her, we’ll follow her when she leaves again.”

“Do you do that in the security department too?” asked Elide with a smirk. Who knew sweet El was even capable of smirking?

“Shut up. Job or no, I am a pro. I watch true crime.”

Elide giggled. “You’re so weird.”

“What, it’s good. And let’s be honest, we’ve been waiting for ten minutes and we’re both bored out of our minds. Let’s try to figure out the situation.”

Before Elide could ask what she was talking about, Lys pulled out her phone and pressed Ansel’s contact. She put the phone on speaker so Elide could hear as it rung.

“Hi Lys. What’s up?”

“Hey Ansel. I’ve been watching reality TV for three hours and I need a good gossip. I’m assuming you won’t tell me about MM?”

“MM?”

“Mystery Man. My new moniker for him.”

“Oh. No, certainly not. I will say, though, that Fenrys just left and last night Aelin and MM came to watch a movie with us.”

Elide gasped and Lys elbowed her. “Is that so? How was it?”

Ansel laughed. “If was fine for the most part. They made out for, like, ten straight minutes though. Either they wanted to annoy me or they’re the horniest couple I’ve met. Or maybe both.”

Lysandra frowned. “I can’t believe I wasn’t there. You and Fen really watched a movie with them?” Before Ansel could reply, Lys continued. “She’s at his place now, I’m guessing?”

“Where else?” Ansel sounded exasperated. “I don’t see her on weekends. I might not even see her until after Christmas now. I’m not much better, though. I’ve spent the last few days with Fenrys.”

Trying to steer the conversation back on track, Lysandra said, “She’ll be there for a while, I’m guessing?”

“I have no clue. Actually, wait, I think she’s coming sometime tonight to get her laptop. She wants to get some work done and she forgot it.” Interesting. “I hope you’re not considering a stakeout,” Ansel teasingly said. “We were worrying about that last night. Oh, wait, I hope I didn’t just give you any ideas.”

Lysandra laughed. “I not desperate enough for a stakeout just yet. Gods, that would be so boring.” Elide covered her mouth, probably to avoid laughing.

The two good-naturedly chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up.

“So,” said Lys. “Aelin’s coming tonight. We are very lucky people.”

“Yes we are. Shit, I really have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Lysandra dug out some dollar bills and handed them to Elide. “Get some snacks while you’re at it. I’m starving. I feel so stupid for forgetting food. That’s the number one rule of having a stakeout.”

-

One hour later, Lysandra was just nearing the bottom of a Cheetos bag when a familiar car pulled into the parking lot.

“Duck,” Lys whispered to Elide.

Elide complied, and then asked, “Why are we whispering?”

“It’s cooler. Okay, I don’t see anyone else in the car. It’s hard to tell because it’s so dark, but yeah, just Aelin. So we wait until she drives off and then we follow.”

“I feel like this is illegal,” commented Elide.

“It might be.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

Lysandra smiled wickedly. “I haven’t felt so exhilarated in years. We need to do this more often.”

Elide giggled at this. “I feel like some sort of private detective.”

Just then, Aelin emerged from the staircase. Lysandra waited until she had driven a fair distance before pulling out after her. The dark was advantageous in that Aelin wouldn’t see them well.

They soon pulled up at a different parking lot. There was something about this place that Lysandra recognized, but in the dark it was impossible to tell.

“Is it just me, or is this place familiar?” Elide wondered.

“You’ve just voiced my own thoughts. Maybe we’ll realize what it is when it’s light.”

“Um, are we going to be here that long?”

“We can’t just follow her in.”

“Why not?”

Lysandra frowned. “I want to see that smirk wiped off her face when she thinks she’s won but realizes we already knew. That requires more patience than barging in there. Anyways, we’ve lost her, and we can’t very well knock on every door.”

“Why not?”

“Stop asking questions. We just can’t.”

A sigh from Elide. “Pass me the gummy bears.”

-

They stayed up all night. Telling stories, pinching each other, whatever it took. Lysandra even ran down to another gas station and grabbed some coffees.

Lysandra was telling a particularly ghastly story about Lorcan, and Elide was gasping about her boyfriend’s uncouth behavior, when Lysandra spotted a figure out of the corner of her eye.

People had been walking by all morning (dawn had just passed), so Lys wasn’t expecting it to be anyone important. But what she saw had her dropping her jaw. “Holy. Fucking. Gods.”

“What?” Elide turned and gasped. “Ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh-”

Lysandra clapped a hand over Elide’s mouth. “Hush. They’ll hear.”

She pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture. Of Aelin with her tongue jammed down Rowan Whitethorn’s throat and his hand on her ass. Holy hell. Another picture as they broke apart, where both faces were clearly visible.

Elide appeared to be trying not to scream. “But. I can’t. They hate each other!”

“Apparently not anymore,” was Lysandra’s dry reply.

Rowan reached for Aelin’s arm and walked with her to his own car. Maybe out to one of the cafes Aelin liked to frequent.

Lys and Elide had been very lucky that Aelin had gone home last night, and now that she and MM - Rowan - were going out somewhere now. And that they had decide to make out right in the line of Lysandra’s phone camera. Yes, they had been very lucky indeed.

“Now what?” asked Elide, seeming to have calmed down.

“Now we swear everyone to secrecy and tell them, just to spite those two-faced worms. Rowan went to my first meeting, you know. A spy, no doubt.”

“We tell everybody?”

Lysandra thought for a minute. “Well, Ansel and Fenrys already know, not to mention they might tattle. I suppose I’ll take mercy on Aelin and let her tell Aedion herself. I want to see Manon’s reaction at the party, so we’ll leave her out of it. Vaughan already left for the holidays, so he’ll have to find out later. Lorcan, Gavriel, and Connall we’ll tell though.”

“Okay.”

The three men were called and told they needed to come to Lysandra’s apartment immediately. They were all instructed not to tell anyone of their whereabouts.

Gathered in Lys’ small living room not too much later, Lorcan said, “Alright, do I really need to ask you ladies why we’re here?”

Elide smiled. “We have news.”

“But,” Lys intervened, “None of you may share this information with anyone. Not a single soul.”

“Why?” asked Connall.

“Just swear it,” Elide commanded.

Lysandra added with a smirk, “On your lives.”

They all rolled their eyes, but swore to stay quiet.

“We know who Aelin’s been sneaking around with,” Elide dramatically announced.

The men had various reactions: Connall gasped, Lorcan smirked, and Gavriel sighed. “Do I even want to know how you’ve come about this information?” asked Gav.

“No, you most certainly do not,” Lys replied. Then she pulled out her phone and showed them the first picture of Aelin and Rowan making out. The angle wasn’t as good as what Lys and Elide had been able to see, so the only distinguishable feature was the hair. While typically silver, Rowan’s hair had caught the light, making it more blonde-like. That did little to narrow down the suspects. They still couldn’t tell who Aelin was with.

“Um, very exciting, but who exactly is that?” questioned Connall.

Wordlessly, Lysandra swiped the screen, moving on to the photo of Aelin and Rowan pulling back and looking at each other.

Shocked expressions graced all of their faces. “What the freakin’ hell. What the holy fucking shit. What the-”

Lorcan was interrupted from his tirade by Gavriel, who just said, “Wow.”

Connall started to laugh darkly. “Those fucking assholes. I’m going to beat the shit out of them. And my brother. Shit, my brother knew?”

Elide smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid both Fenrys and Ansel were aware. They even watched a movie with the two of them a couple days ago.”

“Traitorous pieces of shit. You know, I think I’m content to watch this play out. Aedion doesn’t know?” Connall asked.

“No,” answered Lys with a smile on her face. “And don’t worry,” she added. “I’ll fill you all in on the details of the party. I can’t wait.”

[loquaciousquark]

Hi! I think I remember you posting about "making" your own computer? I'm sorry to bother you with something like this, but was it difficult? Would you say you have to know a lot about how computers work to do it? Thanks!

Heck yeah!!! Oh man!! Gosh guys can I talk to you about building computers and how EVERYONE willing to do some basic googling is almost certainly capable of this I promise?

Welcome to:

Okay okay okay so let me spin you a li’l yarn: I was in optometry school in 2010-2011ish and I had been living up to now on prebuilts, mostly laptops, but DA2 was recently out and gosh darn it I wanted something I could play a proper game on. A friend of mine had a 10yo daughter who wanted to build a computer herself, and he told me if I’d buy the parts, he’d walk both of us through how to do it (what really happened was the 10yo built my first computer and I watched and brought drinks, so–no, I wouldn’t say you have to know a lot about how computers work to do it!).

The physical requirements are some basic manual dexterity & arm strength (you gotta be able to manipulate some tiny things and put some pressure on some connections) and you will most likely need to lift up to 15 pounds, although you can limit that if you go for smaller components. The ability to bend forward and twist and reach will also probably be necessary, although some careful planning can also likely mitigate that.

I think I have pictures of the actual build process somewhere, but regardless, it resulted in this bad boy that served me well for about nine years. I was shocked to see how easy it was to put together, honestly; if you can follow a Lego assembly book, you can put a computer together. With tools like PCPartPicker that have built-in compatibility checks to make sure all your pieces fit, it’s a piece of cake to put together a parts list that you can feel really good about. You just pick whether you want your motherboard to come with fancy lights or not (hint: rgb is unironically cool & i’ll fight anyone who says otherwise).

In the end, you’ll need a set of basic components. You’ll need:

A case to put all the pieces in

A motherboard, the circuit board of the computer that connects everything, basically the heart of the computer

A CPU, the brain of the computer that determines processing power, or basically how fast it can do math and direct traffic

a CPU cooling system, which can be either mechanical fans or liquid cooling, gotta keep that baby chill; may or may not come packaged with the CPU depending on what you get

A graphics card (aka GPU), the thing that makes video games look pretty (and what will probably be the single most expensive item in the build depending on how good you go)

RAM, a short-term memory processing component that comes in different amounts (4gb, 8gb, 16gb, 32gb, 64gb if you’re a madman) depending on how fast you need your short-term memory to work. Good RAM allows you to do things like open a bunch of Chrome tabs at once, run Photoshop at the same time you’re listening to youtube videos, or process the demand of loading up a host of enemies in Mass Effect. Most everyone these days can get by just fine with 16gb of RAM, which is what I have.

a hard drive (or the new, faster, more expensive version, a solid state drive) which functions as your long-term storage bins. This is where you save documents, images, and install your programs. These come in tons of sizes–the larger your files are, the more storage space you’ll want. I always put at least a terabyte of storage in my builds.

a power supply unit or PSU, which gives the electrical juice for everything to run

a monitor (the more hertz, the smoother the video will be - you’ll want either 60hz or 144hz depending on how much your number of frames-per-second matter to you)

a keyboard and mouse

speakers or headphones or both!

Optional addons:

RGB lighting for everything :O

an optical drive (aka something to put DVDs, Blurays, or other physical CD disks into)

fancy liquid cooling pipes

additional case fans; most cases come with adequate fans, but if you are using the computer in a room with poor ventilation or you find that certain components are running hot, you can install additional fans

coincidentally you can also get fans with RGB lighting too

cable extenders when you are going for a specific color scheme

So it can definitely all look overwhelming at first, but when you start to look at how everything is laid out, you’ll notice some trends. Look at these motherboards, for example.

These are just four random motherboards I pulled off Newegg, a commonly used computer parts purchasing site. Sure, the colors are a bit different, but the layout between them…is all basically the same! Here, I’ll draw it out.

In just about every modern motherboard you buy, this will be the rough layout. Everything else is window dressing–what kind of GPU you get, what kind of CPU you get, whether your RAM lights up cool colors or not. Your motherboard will ALWAYS include a map that has extensive descriptions of what each connection does.

Much, much, much more under the jump!

Most of these you won’t even need!

There are always some compatibility things to consider–as I mentioned, PCPartPicker can help you figure out a lot of these–but the biggest one to care about is the CPU. There are two major companies that make CPUs, AMD and Intel. They both have pros and cons on the chips they make, but right now, AMD makes a family of CPUs called Ryzen that both outperform and are cheaper than Intel’s current leading brands, the i7 and i9 lines. Intel was king of the hill for a long time, though, and their CPUs are still really good quality, so some people still go with them over the cheaper alternatives for now. (There are some reports of black screens with the new Ryzen lines, but as I’ve never owned one, I can’t personally speak to how common that is.)

Regardless, once you pick which family of CPUs you want to go with, AMD or Intel, you just have to pick an Intel-friendly or AMD-friendly motherboard. This is always specified in the description of the motherboard. I own the Asus z370 motherboard, so here’s what it says in the description for CPU:

Anyway, once you’ve picked all your parts and had everything shipped to you, it’s literally just a plug-n-play, step by step until everything’s plugged in. Your motherboard manual will also include recommended order of installations, too, and often how to install them.

It helps to remember that the manufacturers of all these parts understand that they are expensive, and they really DON’T want to make them hard to install! Broken or difficult pieces during installation means that the customer is upset, and upset customers ask for refunds and lose brand loyalty.

It also helps to understand that a lot of these connections are based on certain standards–I didn’t realize until I was rebuilding my current machine that these holes set for screws really do work with just about everything you get, as long as it’s the same generation, because motherboard manufactures WANT you to have the flexibility to go any attachment brand you like and still be able to use their board to mount them. 

So, you pick your case and open it up, and you put the motherboard down on top of all the little screw holes until they match, and then you screw all the screws down firmly.

Old rig, partially disassembled:

New, in approximately same state:

(One of the reasons I went with this larger white case than a smaller, slim case like my old one, is because this nicer case has what’s called “cable management;” that means there’s a built-in back area behind the motherboard where all my cables can be jammed without messing up the “aesthetic” of the glass window. My first build obviously did not have that, as seen in that first picture at the top of this post, so I had to just jam my cables wherever I could fit them so that the sides would close, haha.)

Anyway, you can see that the motherboard is just screwed in where it should be, and my CPU is already installed where it should be. I haven’t mounted the cooler for it yet because I needed to clean off the old thermal paste and install new thermal paste before doing so. My two sticks of RAM are also mounted in the top right in the motherboard’s recommended configuration & locations for two sticks (vs. one, vs. four).

Then, with the cooler in place, it looked like this:

So the cooler I have is liquid cooling in a closed system (the thick black tubes running right to left) which is attached to a fan that mounts in place of the white fan on the left from the previous picture. It was as simple as unscrewing the old fan and putting the new one in its place. I think I even used the same screws. The fan is powered by that thin cable running along the top of the case that plugs into a little socket on the motherboard labeled “CPU Fan.” It was as simple as just finding the right plug; it doesn’t even have directionality, just a three-pin socket, so it doesn’t even matter which way you plug.

Already it’s looking like a proper computer! And because this case has cable management, I took a picture of what it currently looked like from the backside.

This case is cool because it has a neat set of connectors mounted on the back of this little hideaway to connect the case fans. I could have run the white fan cables through to the front of the motherboard for them to get power/marching orders, but it was cleaner aesthetically to attach them here in the back. Nothing wrong with connecting them on the front, though–that’s what I did in my original build!

You also might have noticed I’ve mounted the PSU in that white case by now as well. It’s the large black and red box in the bottom corner, seen best from behind. The white case comes with what’s called a PSU shroud, which just means there’s a fancy white cover over it to keep the ~aesthetic~ when viewed from the front side.

The next step is to mount the graphics card!

There’s instructions in your manual as to exactly how these mount, but it really and truly is just removing the dust cover brackets where you need to, and then a delicate plug & play, pushing that big guy in until you hear the click! (Click good, snap bad. Haha. I’ve changed out these cards several dozen times and never broken one, though!)

You can also see the ugly red-tipped cables plugged into the GPU and the motherboard, both on the right side. These come from the Power Supply Unit (they are all permanently connected in most brands, and look basically like a squid’s tentacles–once you have your items mounted onto the motherboard, you just look for the connector from the PSU with the right number of pins and plug it in!)

This guy is the worst. He is fat and hard to maneuver and always requires SO MUCH FORCE to click into this delicate bendy board and your heart will ALWAYS be in your throat as your fingers shake from how hard you’re having to push to sink it, and it will ALWAYS eventually go in but you’ll hate every second of the doing. I hate you, 24-pin EATX. I hate you so much.)

The next thing I did was mount my optical drive (because yes, I still own one), my hard drive, and my solid state drive.

The hard drive and SSD both serve the same purpose (long-term data storage), but the SSD is much faster and uses newer technology. It’s also more expensive for the amount of storage you get, so I have a 256gb SSD that holds my operating system, my heavily-used programs like Firefox and Photoshop & Premiere, and one or two video games I play the most that I would like to load as fast as possible. This is the drive that can allow me to restart my whole system in less than five seconds.

The hard drive is 1.75 terabytes and holds everything else: fics, pictures, videos, music, other games, etc.They mount onto the racks with pre-drilled screws. The optical drive just slides into the socket snugly until it hits the back of the rack.

All of these use a standard connector called a SATA cable which runs between the back of the drive to a SATA socket on the motherboard. Most motherboards come with at LEAST six or seven of these connector slots, and some come with more. They look like this:

and are pretty universal. Any kind of extra storage or drive you want to add to your computer will probably connect with a SATA cable. I think my motherboard, my SSD & HD, and my case purchases all came with a pack of loose SATA cables of different lengths to be used for whatever I wanted.

The rack each drive is mounted to came installed with the case and pre-drilled with screw holes (and provided screws) for attaching either the HD or SSD in every slot. Because this case is all about aesthetic, it also comes with two vertical SSD mounts on the back of the case if you wanted to remove the right-side rack altogether, but as I mentioned, I have the optical drive, so I couldn’t go with that option.

So now we have all the major pieces mounted! The last set of connections are a collection of small fiddly pieces that all plug in roughly the same area and do things like light up the case’s LED, provide that startup beep, connect the USB sockets on the case’s front to power, etc. This is by far the section that takes me the longest because I guarantee I will ALWAYS plug at least two into the wrong socket and not have a beep, or my audio won’t work or something until I go back and reconnect them.

The next thing was to plug in my monitors and…see what happened when we hit the power button! (Monitor connections just plug directly into your graphics card in the back of the case.) And here’s what happened!

So it turned out when I was connecting my SSD (which has my OS on it), I was pushing on the little connector while sitting on the back side of the case. I thought I had the thing in the socket, but what I’d actually done was jam the connector just under the lip of the motherboard (that is, not connected to anything at all, just hanging in open space). Once I realized, though, it was an easy fix!

The last thing I wanted to do to complete the clean white look I wanted was to replace those UGHLY red PSU cables with what are called “cable extenders.” I bought some white ones on Amazon; because most PSUs’ cables are permanently attached at the box, you plug your cable extenders into the other end and then feed them through the case, so that’s the only portion visible. The ugly PSU cables are still there at the other end of the white cables, just hidden in the cable management area behind the motherboard.

I spent some time fixing up the cables to curve exactly how I wanted them to, then picked my LED RGB colors and closed up the open side with the glass wall. All that was left was to plug in my mouse/keyboard/speakers/headphones/mic/webcam, etc., and we were done!

Ta-daaaa!

The first build I did, the one in the blue & black case, took us about two days due to some unexpected problems. First, we were trying to salvage an old CPU from my HP prebuilt to save a little money. Unfortunately, they used basically no thermal paste to connect it to its fan, and when we were trying to get the fan off, it actually tore the CPU out of its socket and bent a bunch of its pins. I ended up going to Best Buy or something and getting a replacement off the shelf.

The other issue I had was that I foolishly didn’t back up my files, and lost a bunch of them in the rebuild (including my Hawke’s original run through the DA2 game :( :( :( ) Always back up your files before ever going in and messing with your case!

Over the years I replaced a bunch of components in it, which is why it lasted me so long, but the transfer into the new case only took me about three hours, and that was with a bunch of breaks throughout. I probably could have done it faster if I hadn’t wanted to savor it, haha. The cable management for the backless desk took a lot longer, though! (…and a LOT of zip ties.)

I do set my new build on a small glass stand (again, from Amazon) because Hamlet’s pretty sheddy and I wanted to keep airflow as good as possible. I’m limited on how many case fans I can install since I have the optical drive rack taking up a lot of space on the right, but I could install new fans on top if I wanted. My temperatures are great, though (I monitor with CoreTemp & GPUTemp, as well as my motherboard’s built-in temp monitoring software), so I don’t need to unless I decide I need more RGB.

Anything I might want to add, I run through PCPartPicker to make sure it’ll fit what I already have. For example, my parts list looks like this (full view and complete parts list available at this link): 

ANYWAY.

If you are patient, if you can fit small Lego-like pieces in labeled sockets, and you are a decent googler, you can build your own PC. It’s really, really hard to do serious damage to components nowadays, even if you plug something in wrong. There’s a bunch of resources, though, and I’d recommend the following places to start:

newegg.com - parts for sale, getcher parts here

pcpartpicker.com - put your list of components together, and it’ll flag any compatibility issues or known problems

https://www.reddit.com/r/buildapc/ - great starting point for new builders, tons of advice and how-to’s for every step of the process, and a decently responsive community to help troubleshoot any issues you might have

And I obviously love doing this kind of thing, so if there’s anything I can help with, I’m more than happy to try! Just let me know, and I hope this was helpful!

[rohad93]

Werewolf in the hospital

As far as Halloween’s go, this one could have been better for her. It wasn’t often she ended an evening sitting in the ER, dressed as a werewolf, with a broken nose, but she couldn’t say now that it didn’t ever not happen!

The night had started fun enough. She’d been out with Gus and Willow at a party being thrown at one of their college’s many fraternity houses. One that was affectionately referred to as the ‘Illusion coven’ around campus because of its many resident students that were known for their penchant for pranks and being able to disappear without a trace when the heat was turned up in response, as well as a large handful of their students that were also members of the school’s ‘magic appreciation club’.

They of course, always threw the best parties, especially at Halloween.

This one had been no different. The music and lights could be seen from about two blocks away. There was a long line of students waiting to get in the front door, but luckily for her and Willow, Gus was a member, which got them through the door instantly.

The place was jammed packed when they finally arrived and Luz could barely hear herself think over the music that was trying to vibrate her teeth right out of her skull, but that didn’t stop her from making a beeline straight for the dancefloor with her friends in tow for the first hour. Excessive amounts of energy made dancing the perfect activity for her, even if she generally lacked any grace or coordination.

It was weird to finally be at one of these raging school parties after all the ones she had been purposely excluded from in high school.

After four years of being an outcast in high school and spending most Saturday night’s alone, watching anime or writing fanfiction to fill her spare time, she hadn’t expected her social life to really take off in college, though ‘take-off’ might have been a strong word for it. She still only had a handful of friends, but it was still a far cry from how she’d been a loner in high school.

Leaving to go to college out of state had given her an opportunity to start new, though she was still the same old Luz she had been her senior year, there were so many more people at her college with varying interests and backgrounds than her small-town high school where everyone had known each other since grade school and pretty much stuck together from the first grade on.

You release one nest of spiders at nap time and suddenly you’re branded for life as ‘that weird kid’. She didn’t like to admit how much that had really bothered her when she was a kid, but it just became the norm as she got older. It didn’t stop her enjoying life as much as she could, even if she had gotten thrown out of prom her senior year for wearing an otter onesie.

It was still nice to actually have friends now, one’s she could study with in the library or just have lunch with and not blink an eye when she said something totally bizarre, or at least bizarre by most people’s standards.

Meeting Willow, her dorm mate, and then Gus through her, had been a lifesaver and through them, she had met other student’s, some of which she shared classes with, like Viney, who despite being an upperclassman was only now taking her English comp basics so they worked together on group assignments, she was funny and easy to get along with. It didn’t take long for Luz to count her, along with Gus and Willow as her closest friends.

Viney was also dating Emira Blight, one of the infamous Blight twins, who were also members of the ‘Illusion Coven’, so she knew Viney was probably somewhere here among the many bodies packed into the large house, though the chances of running into her were slim.

She wasn’t at all surprised to see the copious amounts of alcohol that was everywhere either, that was one thing about college that TV had gotten right. College students drank; a lot.”

She watched three students doing a keg stand till beer squirted out of the guy on the kegs’ nose.

She snorted, grinning to herself and showing off the mouthful of sharp canines she had spent a good hour in the bathroom getting molded to fit too her teeth. She was, of course, the definition of a broke college student, attending entirely on a full scholarship, cause when you don’t have anyone to hang out with, you might as well study, and it was finally paying off, but she still had little in the way of personal spending money given her measly paycheck from working part-time at ‘The Owl House’ An owl themed diner just off campus owned by the most eccentric woman Luz had ever met, did not make for the most extravagant costume. But she made do with an old red flannel, ripped jeans, and some dollar store pointed ears and face paint. She had splurged a little on the fake teeth, she’d reuse them next year, werewolf was a classic after all.

Despite her less than ideal paycheck, Edalyn Clawthorne, or Eda ‘The Owl Lady’ as she was known around town, was good to her, letting her eat and drink for free or study there when she wasn’t working, and honestly, Luz kind of wanted to be Eda when she grew up. She was self-assured and didn’t care what anyone thought about her, not to mention surprisingly foxy for her age.

“You guys want something to drink?” Gus yelled at her and Willow to be heard over the pounding music and voices.

“Is there anything without an octane rating?” Willow questioned, as she watched an upperclassman drinking something straight out of the bottle at maximum speed.

After all, she and Willow were only nineteen, and Gus seventeen, he was crazy smart and had skipped a couple of grades. Luz had never had much interest in drinking, despite Eda sometimes offering her a drink from her flask with the Owl etched into the side.

She didn’t even know what was in it, only that Eda referred to it as “Mama’s magic Elixir’. She always said no and Eda would shrug and tip it back till it was empty.

“There’s punch, but I’d still be careful. Chances are good it’s already been spiked.” He shrugged.

“No thanks,” Willow shook her head and turned to look at something, the glitter on the wings of her fairy costume catching the bright colored lights overhead. She still hadn’t figured out what Gus was supposed to be. He was wearing a long red tube with a smiley face on it and long sleeves that went down to the ground that he flung about in excitement.  

“I might take my chances on those snacks!” Luz shouted, eyeing the array of treats laid out on the table for the taking. She was willing to bet no one had spiked the cake and it looked really good from here. Gus grinned and Willow rolled her eyes, smiling. Anyone who knew Luz for any amount of time knew she had a voracious appetite and an even bigger sweet tooth.

“Yeah, okay, just don’t eat everything.” Gus laughed at her.

“No promises!” She grinned back before moving across the room, trying to slide between the bodies that packed every square inch of the place and get to the refreshment table. People were moving in every direction around her as the music blared and the lights flashed, it was a little disorienting actually, but she had her eyes on the prize.

She had just made it to the table when the crowd surged and sent her careening into someone else standing there, slamming into their back and making them spill their drink.

“Watch it, nitwit! A voice growled at her before stopping. “Oh, hi, Luz.”

Luz blinked, realizing who exactly she had just slammed into, and swallowed thickly.

Amity Blight, who she did not exactly start off on the best foot with when classes had started a few months ago but now had a much more friendly relationship with.

Amity Blight, the smart and talented girl she shared creative writing and literature appreciation with. Amity Blight, who Luz had a teeny, tiny, minuscule... huge, crush on.

Amity Blight, who was dressed prettily as a witch, complete with black and green striped leggings and a pointed black hat and, who she had just slammed into and spilled her drink on.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Amity!” Luz grimaced at the wet spot now in the middle of Amity’s black blouse.

“Oh, it’s okay, really, no big deal!” Amity waved a hand, snatching a napkin off the table and dabbing at the spot.

“You sure? I could go...get you something or…,” she started, unsure.

“NO, no it’s fine, really…,” she insisted and Luz frowned. She must have embarrassed the other girl, her face was tinged red as she wiped at the spot, and was trying not to look Luz in the eyes.

‘Mierda’ Luz cursed under her breath.

Clearly, Amity did not want to talk about the spill anymore, so Luz cleared her throat, drawing the young woman’s gaze.

“What are you doing here? You don’t strike me as the… party type,” she asked and Amity rolled her eyes and Luz’s chest seized up, wondering if she’d insulted her until Amity spoke again.

“I’m not, but my brother and sister are members here and all but forced me to come tonight,” she huffed. “I’d much rather be back in my dorm, studying for our quiz in lit appreciation Monday and not getting a headache from this music.” she frowned and Luz blinked.

“Oh, Mierda! I forgot about the quiz!” Luz slapped her hands to her cheeks and Amity blinked at her before laughing.

“It was written on the board yesterday and the professor sent out an email reminder this morning.”

“Ugh, I didn’t check my email today,” she groaned, squishing her cheeks.

“Well, you still have tomorrow to study,” Amity offered.

“There was so much material to cover though…” Luz groaned. “I’m not gonna sleep all weekend, I’m going to have to cram till I push out every memory of the third grade just to make room for it all.” She frowned, already thinking about all the coffee she was going to have to drink before Monday morning, and on Monday morning.

Amity was biting her lip, thinking, but decided to take the chance.

“You can come study with me. Only if you want that is!” she quickly finished, pushing a stray strand of dyed, half mint, green, half auburn hair behind one of her ears.

“Really?” Luz asked.

“Yeah, I was just about to get out of here anyway, I’ve had enough of the party…” she said, looking around at all the people crowded into the room.

“Yeah, I’d love to!” Luz jumps on the opportunity, cause why wouldn’t she. “Oh, I came with Gus and Willow…” she remembers her friends somewhere in the house.

“Oh…” Amity seems to deflate a little at that. “Maybe another time?”

“No, it’s all good! I’m just gonna go tell them I’m headed out. You, uh, wanna meet outside?” she asks and Amity is smiling at her again and Luz just wants to melt into a puddle on the floor as those amber eyes stare back at her

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you.”    

“Great! I’ll be quick,” she promises as she runs back out into the crowd, looking for her friends. It takes her about ten minutes to find them in the living room.

“Hye guys, is it cool with you if I head out?”

“Where are you going?” Willow questions her.

“I ran into Amity, who reminded me we have a quiz in lit appreciation Monday and I really need to study and she offered to study with me, so…” she trails off, seeing the look Willow is giving her. The horticulture student is very aware of Luz’s crush, despite her never really saying anything about it. She does not count gushing to the shorter girl about how smart and pretty Amity is as ‘saying anything about it’.

“Why would you wanna leave a party to study?” Gus makes a face and Willow smirks.

“I think it’s more about who she’s studying with…” she says knowingly and Luz blushes as Gus blinks at her, confused.

“It’s cool, Luz. Go study with Amity.”

Luz does not care for the knowing way Willow says the other woman’s names, with a teasing lilt, but she’s not concerning herself with that for now.

“Thanks, guys, I’ll see you later,” She calls, already running toward the front door.  

She doesn’t immediately see Amity, in fact, the yard in front of the house is empty, everyone inside.

Luz frowns, looking around. Did she get tired of waiting?

Her chest aches a little at the thought, shoulders slumping, and is just about to turn around and go back in the house when she hears something that does not match the thumping bass of the music inside, voices. She walks quietly around to the side of the house and peeks around the wall curiously, if college has taught her anything it’s that there are students making out anywhere at any given time and not to look too closely into dark corners where sounds are coming from.  

Her eyes widen as she spots Amity right away, her back is pressed against the wall and a guy dressed in a toga is standing in front of her, leaning down over her. He’s not particularly big, but he’s standing uncomfortably close with his hands wrapped around both of her wrists, hands fisted, Amity is scowling angrily up at him. Luz’s brows furrow between her eyes and she frowns, walking over quickly.

“I said let go!” Amity snaps, trying to rip her hands free from his grip and he’s so close she can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Come on, just a little kiss, it’s Halloween…” He leans forward and Amity turns her head away,  sneering.

“I don’t care if it’s fucking Christmas!” she snarled. “I said no!”

“Hey!” Luz shouts standing just a few feet away now. “She said no!” she growled, lips pulled back over her fangs.

“Luz!” Amity stares at her wide-eyed.

“This is none of your business bitch, go howl at the moon,” he slurred before turning back to Amity and yanking on one of her hands. She yelps in pain as he jerks her and Luz is moving forward before she even knows it and her fist is connecting with the side of his face.

He goes fumbling backward, releasing Amity as he stumbles to his butt in the grass.

“Santa mierda, eso duele!” she hissed, shaking out her screaming hand.

“Come on!” Amity grabs her other hand and starts to pull her away but then the guy is scrambling to his feet and coming at her with a strangled yell and Luz does the first thing she can think of, she uses their joined hands to yank Amity behind her and then the guy’s fist connects with her face and her world an explosion of pain and crunching noises.

She’s only vaguely aware of Amity screaming her name as her back hits the grass and everything goes black for a second but then she’s quickly pulled back to consciousness by his hand fisted into the front of her shirt and her fight or flight instincts kick in and she’s swinging wildly at his ugly mug as quickly as she can.

Her hands protest every hit that connects with his stone-hard face but she doesn’t stop and he’s swinging back, but she can hardly feel it over the constant pain radiating from her nose through her whole body.

She just clenches her eyes shut and keeps swinging, punching him as hard as she can, but then there are more voices and two large burly guys have him in a stranglehold, pulling him off her.

Amity had dashed back inside to grab the houses ‘bouncers’ standing just inside the door.

“Oh my god, Luz!” Amity holds her hands over her mouth as she kneels onto the ground next to her, looking over her face in horror.

“Ugh…” is all she can manage and then Amity is grabbing her hand and helping to her feet and dragging her across the yard, fumbling, panicked through her purse before finally pulling out her keys. She unlocks the passenger side door of a small black sedan and carefully pushes Luz into the passenger seat.

“Keep your head tilted back,” she says before closing the door and hurrying around to the other side, and jumping in the driver’s seat.

It’s only now that Luz realizes she can taste blood and reaches up to touch her top lip and pulls her hand back to see her fingers covered in the crimson liquid.

‘Well, that’s not good,’ she thinks, but it definitely explains why her face hurts so bad.

She tilts her head back but can feel it dribbling down her chin and neck as Amity pulls away from the curb, much faster than the speed limit, Luz is sure as the tires squeal.

She runs her tongue across her teeth and feels a distinct lack of a point and groans, making Amity glance at her.

“I think I swallowed one of my teeth…,” she mumbles more to herself but Amity’s pained expression turns into a grimace as they speed down the road.

Which was how she found herself sitting next to her crush in the ER with her head tilted back and the front of her once white shirt stained crimson as her nose continues to bleed.

Halloween is apparently a very popular time for injury because it’s crowded and takes two hours for someone to see her, while they wait Amity fills out her paperwork for her.

“Birthday?” she asks glumly, and Luz tells her. She hasn’t said much since they left the party, she looks miserable, and that’s coming from someone who is doing their best impression of a fountain with her nose. She can’t stand that face Amity is making. “Allergies?”

“Lactose intolerant, so no milk IV’s,” she jokes, despite the incredible pain in her face. Amity starts to write but then stops, blinking, before turning to look at her grin.

“How can you joke? You just got beat up… because of me.” she frowns.

“No, I got my block busted because some guy was being a pendejo.” Luz frowns. “It wasn’t your fault, and I wasn’t just going to stand there and let him….do whatever he wanted!” she scowled, throwing up a hand.

Amity is looking at her with an unreadable expression, but before she can say anything they are calling her back.

“Oh goody, my turn.”

It takes forty-five minutes for them to tell her that her nose is broken, which she could have told them when she caught sight of herself in a mirror, a bloody mess and her nose pushed to the side at an odd angle. No wonder Amity had been so panicked and run all those red lights.

Putting it back in place is… not fun, and then the doctor stuffs gauze in her nose and splints the outside, telling her she needs to keep the gauze in for a week and then sends her on her way with a prescription for antibiotics and some mild painkillers.

Amity is waiting for her when she comes out.

“What did he say?” she stands as Luz walks back out into the waiting room and frowns at the splint on her face.

“It’s broke.” she shrugs and Amity grimaces as they walk out back to the parking lot.

“I am so sorry, Luz.” Amity frowned. “If I’d just…”

“Hey,” Luz cut her off, she wasn’t having any of that. “I told you, it’s not your fault, technically, I started that fight… didn’t win it, but I started it,” she laughed to herself.

“You are surprisingly chipper for someone who just got their nose broken…” Amity can’t help but smile a little at the other woman’s cheery disposition.

“It’s not the first time I’ve broken something you know. The first time someone helped me along, but hey! Besides, I helped you, and that’s good enough for me.” She smiled as they stopped next to Amity’s car. Amity has a small smile on her face as she unlocks the car. “I hope this is healed up by thanksgiving or my mom is going to have a cow…,” she mumbled as an afterthought. Amity giggled to herself.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

The drive is mostly quiet until they pull up into the parking lot in front of Luz’s dorm building. Willow is probably already back in their room.

“Do you think this will get me out of the quiz Monday?” Luz wonders aloud as she unbuckles and Amity laughs.

“Doubtful... but…, if you’re up for it, I feel like I should at least treat you to breakfast or something for what you did… we could study after?” she offers.

Luz blinks at her, finally realizing what exactly is going on. She was certain before when Amity had asked her to study that she was just being nice, but the way she looks now, fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel and glancing at Luz out of the corner of her eye, she finally catches on and curses how oblivious she is at times.

“Like… a date?” she asks uncertainly and Amity flinches.

‘Y-Yeah.” she jerks her head in a nod and Luz is silent for a few seconds too long it seems. “If you don’t want to…!”

“No! No I do, want to go on a date with you, yes!” Luz nods, too fast, it makes her nose throb.  

“Really?” now Amity is turned to look at her, eyes wide, with a hopeful glint.

“Yes, absolutely.” Does she sound too eager? Probably, but she does not care, especially when Amity’s face lights up with that adorable little smile she’s seen on her face once or twice before in class when they talked and now she feels even dumber for not catching on quicker.

They plan for Amity to pick her up here at nine tomorrow morning and then Luz opens the door, but Amity stops her.

“Thank you, Luz… I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t shown up...” Amity says finally.

“Amity Blight, I will be your fearless champion anytime you need me too!” she declares, a fist on her chest. The bandages and bloodstains, as well as her nasally stuffed up voice, diminishes the gesture some, but Amity smiles adoringly at her none the less.

She hesitates a second before reaching across the console to lay a hand gently on Luz’s cheek before leaning forward to quickly kiss the other. Luz’s face erupts in red as her heart hammers in her chest.

“My fearless champion,” she agrees, cheeks a bright pink.

Luz’s face erupts in a grin.

Maybe the evening started poorly, but she can’t find it in herself to mind one bit.

[neocatharsis]

The Brilliant Members of World Renowned NCT 127 Share Their Thoughts Fashion, Music, Lifestyle, Favorite Things… What Their Individual Styles Are　#009 MARK

Some Excerpts

To know the world, to be a writer. What are your thoughts on that?

MN: Now then, after thoroughly reading your questionnaire, how to put this, it’s not that often that you see so many amazing responses in one place that happen to be philosophical in nature. That’s how amazing we thought your responses were, MARK-san.

M: Woh~!!

MN: For the question, “If you were to introduce yourself to the readers of MEN’S NON-NO as if you were doing so to someone you just met for the first time, what would that be?”, you answered, “I’m a young man who is still learning about the world”. How concise yet such lovely words. Please tell us in what way you are coming face-to-face with the world right now.

M: Wow, thank you very much. I often feel how scary it is the way time just flies by. Like time is flashing by in an instant. However, I feel that the “youth” of each person is exactly when that person feels like “it is right now”. Of course, it depends on the person, but I think that there is a sense of youth that I can feel at any given time, whether I’m in my 30’s or my 40’s, and I think that will change depending on how I feel and how I perceive it. What I can say now is that somewhere inside, I feel like, “I still have yet to know the world”. That’s why I always feel that I’m in still the process of learning more about the world, and that I have a lot of new things to learn with so many different aspects. There is so much wisdom, information, and knowledge in this world, and it’s as if I’m digesting these things one by one within my mind without rushing the process, and I’m shaping my identity by selecting what I need. I feel like I’m amidst this process.

MN: It feels like facing the vastness of the outside world is also connected to facing yourself. Also, to the question, “What is your source of inspiration for creative work?”, you wrote, “EVERYTHING”.

M: That’s true. I’m currently trying to understand so many things and ingest them within myself. So, well, I guess I’m in the middle of my lessons.

MN: You talked about how you perceive the world, but the concept of the group is exactly “TO THE WORLD”. For the question, “What is important to you in expressing yourself and conveying your style as a global artist?”, you wrote, “I believe that we should know ourselves and be honest with ourselves”. To the world, to know yourself. It seems that “to know” is important you.

M: With regard my policy of being honest with myself in order to know myself, I believe it is necessary with all aspects. For example, as an artist, “I wasn’t honest with my previous performance, but this time I am”, just doesn’t cut it. After all, I think that in order to absorb various things, you should always be honest with your feelings and with yourself. Inspiration often comes from the outside, but I think it’s important to think about how you interpret it, what types of emotions you are willing to accept, and how you are going to express them. I feel like I’m always trying to figure out how I interpret a song and its concept with honesty, and then how I’m going to perform that song. I think the other members are the same, but TAEYONG-san, who also writes lyrics as I do, likely has many opportunities to feel the same way when writing poetry.

MN: Since you brought up writing lyrics, I’d like to ask you a couple of things accordingly. To the actual question, “What dream would you like to achieve in your life other than music?”, you responded, “To write literary work”. We can tell that you like to write from the questionnaire that was jam-packed with words, but please tell us what is important to you when putting your feelings into words, and if there is anything you would challenge yourself to try.

M: Let’s see… Though I mention writing, it’s mostly lyrics these days. However, in order to complete those lyrics, I need to keep writing down my ideas. Those ideas become the source of everything I write and I start from there. Each letter/character and sentence always are the basis of my lyrics and other works, and I think that they contain my various viewpoints as well as perspectives. I also try to express these different viewpoints and perspectives in words.

MN: That’s a vital essence on how to create works of art.

M：For example, even if the theme is the same, the interpretation will change depending on how you look at things, or rather, your point of view, and I think this will appeal differently to people. So, the lyrics then are taken further as they fit the music. Thus, the way it is conveyed will then change depending on the beat and sounds. I rather enjoy that part of it. As far as things “I would like to challenge myself to” in the future… Of course, right now, I think that writing lyrics is already a good way for me to express myself in terms of writing itself, and it’s very gratifying as well, but… If in the future, really further into the future, that is, once I have achieved a lot of experience, it would be wonderful if I could publish a book.

MN: Wow! We look forward to that!

M: My original dream was to become an author! And I am really satisfied that I am able to write lyrics and sing those lyrics, but it would be something if I could publish a book someday when I’m older….

MN: As a young man still in the process of learning about the world, we hope for the day when you, MARK-san, have seen and listened to more things, will be able to share your experiences with us.

M: One day, eventually. Whether it be a novel, or some kind of autobiography, or even something that’s philosophical…or something that represents my thoughts… As of now, it is all up in the air, but I do hope to be able to write a book of that sort one day.

MN: So, your passion for writing something is being devoted to the creation of lyrics.

M: Well, to be honest, I don’t’ really think I’ve been able to express myself fully yet. As I mentioned earlier, I’m still in the process of learning and absorbing various things, and in many ways, I feel my writing skills are still in its infancy as well. However, the important thing to remember is that it’s often not until you write down what you’re thinking about that you realize what it is that you were thinking about. When I write, a lot of things come to mind, and they then naturally becomes letters/characters and then sentences. So, I didn’t notice it before I began writing, but as I continued to write, I realized, “Oh, I had this idea in me” and “I had that idea in me”. The thoughts and feelings that were hiding within began coming to light. Right now, I find that process very stimulating”

MN： And what we hear is what has been output from that process.

M: I guess that’s how it works. And there’s one thing I know without a doubt. I am currently trying to express myself on a daily basis while feeling how “interesting” everything is. Besides, I think that if you don’t have fun yourself while experiencing all these different things, it simply won’t be able to write and express yourself well. That’s why I feel that, in addition to “writing”, it’s important for me to experience more interesting and different things.

MN: Well put. We will introduce the songs written by you, MARK-san, and TAEYONG-san, who came up earlier, at the end of this topic.

What kind of place is NCT 127 for MARK?

MN: We would like to ask what NCT 127 means to you, MARK-san?

M: Yes, certainly!

MN: There was one thing that was deeply impressive and we’d like to share that with the readers first. Two years ago, YUTA-san gave his first solo interview with MEN’S NON-NO and that article became a record-breaking hit. After it posted, when we told him about it at the Saitama Super Arena concert (NCT 127 1st Tour ‘NEO CITY:JAPAN‐The Origin’), you were next to him and we were surprised that you jumped up before him. We felt your deep affection for the other members.

M: Ahh~, thank you for looking over me with such warmth!

MN: We can’t forget how you shook YUTA-san’s shoulders and said, “You did it!”, while YUTA-san was still in shock, saying, “What? Really?” (laughter). All the staff members were talking about how “MARK’s response was the fastest~!”

M: Haha! First off, I mean, YUTA-san is just so adorable. I really do love him. It is of course important to be happy when someone important to you has had something good happen to him, and I’m sure YUTA-san would do the same for me. So, right now in that way, for me, the members mean a lot to me and I want everyone to be happy, and to be really happy all the time.

MN: It shows how you care about one another.

M: Since we are friends who have truly shared various things together and have experienced both joy as well as hardship, we’re so close that we can almost always tell what each other is thinking about. I think that it is more comfortable for each and every one of us to be each other than to be with anybody else, which I’m sure is the same for everybody else.

MN: In contrast, to the question, “What is behind the coolness of NCT 127?”, you responded, “I find it cool to be able to accomplish something difficult, so I think it is cool how I challenge myself and my team challenges itself in order to do so!”

M: We as NCT 127 are an ambitious group. We strive to pursue that ambition and are constantly trying to upgrade our own capabilities. I think these activities have made me a smarter person, and when they look at one another, I feel that we as an entire group are becoming more mature and blossoming through that effort. NCT 127 has really become an indispensable part of my life now. It’s a place in which I am able to grow and where happiness exists.

What are your thoughts about communication?

MN: To the question, “Please list three things that make up who you are, MARK-san”, you wrote, “Family, members, fans”. It appears you’re all about “people”, MARK-san. Due to the impact of the coronavirus pandemic, it is becoming increasingly difficult to see our loved ones. With group activities, not being able to do offline concerts or events. Under these circumstances, what do you find is important, MARK-san, when it comes to connecting with your family, members, and fans?

M: I find it truly “unfortunate and sad” that we are unable to do our regular activities and unable to see each other. But since there’s really nothing we can do about this situation, I think we have to accept it. On the other hand, in times like these, I think it’s really important to “communicate” with your loved ones and to find a way to communicate with them. For example, even between husband and wife, it is often said that it is not good to rely too much on “knowing without saying”. I mean, I’ve heard that there are some things that you simply can’t know unless you put them into words… Although, I don’t know about that kind of thing yet (LOL)

MN: Yes, we hear that a lot (LOL).

M: Even I used to nebulously think that my fans likely knew how much I wanted to see them and that I miss them when I can’t see them. However, I have come to realize that it is definitely necessary for people to communicate with each other and to properly express their feelings. I feel more aware of the importance of expressing my feelings in words without assuming that they will understand. With this in mind, I’ve been trying to express my feelings in words through SNS and online content as much as possible, so that my fans can think, “Oh, I’m so glad I waited for you.” I’d like to communicate with my fans through the use of my own words, so that I can stay connected and in a good relationship with all my fans for a long time to come.

MN: Your feeling are already clearly conveyed in those words.

M: If that’s the case, I am happy!

MN: The questionnaire we received back from you was positive overall, and full of strong willed words, but there was one particular answer that was really striking. It was the answer you wrote, “I would like others to see me as a happy person, but in fact, I have a lot of things to worry about.” to the question, “What kind of gap is there between the real you and how you want to be seen by others?” To the question, “What would you like to overcome?”, you responded, “Worrying too much about unnecessary things.” Of course, nobody is fine all the time, but you have an image of being cheerful and energetic, MARK-san. So, the question is, how do you fill in the gaps when it comes to that?

M: Ugh~. That’s partly due to my personality. When I meet people, when I come face-to-face with them, whether it’s the fans or people who are normally around me, I don’t like to show them that I’m not doing well because I’ve had a bad day, for example. I mean, I don’t think it’s in my nature to show my negative side. The reason is that there is nothing wrong with the other person. So, to express the problem I’m having in front of that person is… well, I think it’s just wrong. That’s why I always want to bring as much positive energy as possible to the person in front of me, and to be in a cheerful state.

MN: It’s common to take your anger out on others when you are in a bad mood, but you are making an effort to control yourself there! With regard to, “a memorable piece of advice you received from somebody”, you responded, “TREAT OTHERS THE WAY YOU WISH TO BE TREATED.” There feels like a connection here.

M: Yes, there is. In particular, for my fans, I want to show a good image of myself. They always support us, and even for our concerts and events, they often come from afar to meet us. Why would we want to take the trouble to show our negative side under those circumstances? If we did, we would wind up in regret after getting off the stage. That’s why I always want to deliver energy to my fans, and even if I do have worries or concerns, I do what I can to not to show them. There’s always another place where I can release it. So, if I’m in a bad state, I tend to shift my emotions. I try to eliminate my worries and concerns as much as possible, but if I find it difficult or impossible to do, I think it’s something that should be resolved by talking to the members of the group, talking to my family, or talking to the people around me.

© https://mensnonno.jp/post/58067/

[maevemarethyu]

The Pack (1/?)

(Not my GIF)

(Bucky Barnes x Reader)

The Night Wolves. New York’s most prolific and secretive gang. Always watching yet somehow always out of reach. Always slipping through the Avengers grasp.

Until they got you.

You were a street rat. A grunt working for the most gruesome group of criminals New York had ever seen.

Captain America wasn’t expecting much when they brought you in, he certainly wasn’t expecting you and his best friend to get along so well. You were a courier, nothing more.

Or so they thought.

Warnings: Violence, Cursing, Talks of Murder, Actual Murder, Talks of Abuse, Kidnapping, Depictions of Abuse, Crude Humor, Sexual Humor, Bucky Barnes (because he needs a warning all in himself), Sad Boi Hours.

The fact that all you could do was pretend to work while Flora and Maeve handled the complete uprooting of your business pissed you off to no end.

Every day for the past four days, you woke up, went for a morning run, went to Mr. Miller’s shop (Surprise, Mr. Miller doesn’t exist), meandered there until closing time, walked home, ate dinner, and went back to sleep.

All while the Avengers thought they were invisibly following you. Day one had been Barnes. Day two was Wilson. Day three was Rogers. Today is was the Scarlet Witch; Wanda Maximoff. You’d think that they would have better disguises than a baseball cap and blue zip-up but, it would appear that was their I’m just a civilian look.

You couldn’t even go to your house. Instead you were forced to stay in the dummy apartment you’d set up when you first got the Wolves up and running. It came in handy, obviously, but it still sucked.

The sat phone goes off in the freezer and you rush to answer it.

“Please, for the love of Bucky Barnes’ thighs, tell me you found me a way out of this hell.” You whine and Maeve laughs on the other end.

“Is that what your praying to now? The Winter Soldier’s thighs?”

“Focus Maeve.”

“I’m not the one praying to a pair of limbs.” She teases before taking on a more serious tone. “We have the new location set up but, it’s going to take time to get everyone transferred.”

“I figured. Please tell me you got us set up in the Maldives. I’d love you forever if you did.”

“Ha Ha. You know I burn easily and, for that, you all must suffer. As for the escape. Flora had an idea.”

You groan at the thought. Flora was smart as a whip and was a tactical genius but, her ideas were taxing to say the least.

“She thought it’d be easier for us to avoid those pesky Avengers if we had eyes on the inside. Ya know, just someone to find out how much they really found out about us and, since you’re already such good friends with them, we figured you’d be the perfect candidate.”

“You do realize I’m the one in charge right? You guys want me to infiltrate the Avengers.” You ask with annoyance. Not because wouldn’t work but, because it would. You already had rapport with the Captain.

“Fine.” You pout. “Use the Mr. Miller cell to call mine and ask me to pick up something in Hell’s Kitchen. I’ll wait until its dark and purposefully go into a dangerous area because I care. I’m willing to make this sacrifice.”

You hear a snort on the other line and roll your eyes.

“Is Paul good? Looks like setting up a fake family tree wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.” You ask and faintly hear Flora yell I told you so in the background.

“He’s fine. The Avengers have him holed up in some five-star cabin up in Maine. The lucky bastard.”

Lucky bastard indeed.

“I hope you’re ready for this Alpha. Your life is about to get a lot more complicated.”

 You’d been wandering around Hell’s Kitchen pretending to be lost for almost twenty minutes now. Honestly, who did you have to suck off to get mugged around here? Your feet were starting to ache and there was a knot in your back thanks to the lumpy mattress back at the apartment.

A knife against your back puts you on high alert and you have to hold back a grin because, about damn time.

“Give me your wallet.” The man whispers in your ear and your nose scrunches at the scent of cigarettes and cheap booze.

Tears spring to your eyes and you hold up two shaking hands.

“Please don’t hurt me. I-I’m lost and I just want to go home.” You cry. This wasn’t exactly what your mother had in mind when she made you sign up for drama club in school but, hey, at least you were using your skills.

“Your wallet. Now.” The knife presses deeper into your back and, before you can let out a perfectly believable whimper, pressure is gone. You turn to face your attacker only to see he help in the air by the back of his shirt by none other than Bucky Barnes himself. There was no shy smile on his face tonight, only a fierce scowl as he throws the mugger into a wall and you can’t help but think how good it looks on him.

Thick Thighs and Bucky’s Eyes was about to become your new life motto if he wasn’t careful.

“Are you okay?” He turns to you, eyes canvasing you for any injuries. Mr. Hyde to Dr. Jekyll in the blink of an eye.

“I-I’m okay. Geez I’m so stupid. Mr. Miller said he needed me to pick something up from Lucky’s Pawn Shop and I got all turned a-around. D-Do you think he works for the Wolves.” You whisper the taboo name and add a shiver for good measure.

His eyes dart to the man lying in a crumpled heap and back to you with a frown.

“I don’t think so but, I’d feel better if you took Steve’s offer of staying at the compound. You’re a target now.” He sighs and it’s so nice you’re not sure if you want to jump him or puke.

“I-I think you’re right.” You mutter, looking at the man then back into Bucky’s blue cotton candy eyes; sweet enough to make your teeth rot. “Thank you Sarge. Who know what would have happened if you weren’t around? What were you doing in Hell’s Kitchen so late?”

His eyes dart away from yours as he leads you to his car.

Busted.

“Steve may or may not have had us keep eyes on you for your own protection.”

Sure. Your protection.

Instead of a scoff, you blink up him with owlish eyes. “You mean you’ve been watching over me since I left the tower?”

You don’t think anything you do will ever top the fact that you just made Bucky Barnes blush.

“Not just me. We each took a day to keep tabs on ya.” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He escorts you to an inconspicuous car and opens your door.

What were guys like Bucky called on the internet again?

Right. A Himbo.

Incredibly well intentioned and polite but, not the most observant… Maybe you were being cruel but so was he by just looking that fine all the time.

“Thank you.” Your whisper sounds like a shout in the silent car and, once again, you can see red creeping onto his cheeks whenever a streetlight illuminates the vehicle.

Phase one complete.

“Steve had a room set up for you. Are you hungry?”

The living quarters of the compound were not what you were expecting. It was… homier. High class definitely but, not cold. Every Avenger had their own room but, their kitchen was shared, and the common room was jam packed with bookcases and entertainment systems.

You were in heaven and no longer jealous of your fake father Paul.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You mumble, adding a bit of shyness to your voice to really sell it. “I just want to lie down.”

With you preferably but, we’ll get to that another time.

“Oh, right. This way.”

Bucky leads you down a hall lined with doors; stopping at the one at the very end of the hall and motioning you to go in.

“Holy shit.” You gasp and it’s real because your room is phenomenal. The bed looks big enough to fit an elephant and soft enough to drown in and you couldn’t wait to collapse into it. Floor to ceiling windows give you a view of the city you could never get from your real house. Simply beautiful.

“If you need anything, my room is down to the right and Wanda’s is down to the left. She left for a mission earlier but, is excited to meet you when she gets back.”

You’d heard stories about the Scarlet Witch and her telepathic powers so, you knew to be careful around her. You had enough secrets to drive anyone mad and put you behind bars for several lifetimes.

“The Wanda Maximoff can’t wait to meet me?” You gasp, finally relenting and flopping onto the bed like an ungraceful starfish. “This could very well be the best day of my life. You know, aside from the almost getting mugged part.”

You turn your head towards him just in time to see a chuckle pass through his seashell pink lips. A very good day indeed.

It was a good tactic but, you saw straight through it. The Avengers were still wary of you and believed putting you in proximity of the two members that you were most likely to trust would cause you to slip up; unintentionally let your guard down so they could read you like a book.

You wanted to say something about them thinking you’d be that naïve but, that would only diminish the reputation you had begun to build: a sassy yet timid and troubled girl who had gotten herself mixed in with the wrong crowd. You garnered sympathy and sympathy led to loose lips.

You honestly deserved an Oscar for this shit; Flora definitely owed you a dinner and, once everything got back to normal, you’d wring those street rat’s necks for not doing their job.

“You’ll be safe here. No one’s breaking in to steal your purse.”  He reassures and it melts your heart a bit; he really is a nice guy. A really nice guy with a really nice face and a really nice ass.

“Thank you Sarge.” You sigh sincerely. You may be on opposite sides of the law but, you admired him and the other Avengers for what they do. They protect people from people like you. They’ve seen the worst the universe has to offer and none of them turned away. If you were in Barnes position, the next time someone told you the world was ending, you would have told them to put you back in the freezer.

“If you need anything, just ask the AI; her name is FRIDAY. Goodnight Valerie.” He shuts the door with care, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts and a bugged cellphone. This was already going much more smoothly than you had anticipated and you didn’t know whether to be grateful or suspicious.  You were leaning towards the latter.

You were being paranoid but, who wouldn’t be in your situation?

You sit up on the bed and observe your new home for the foreseeable future. Would the holier than thou Avengers bug an innocent woman’s room? You liked to think they wouldn’t but, you could never be too sure.

You make a mental note to see if you’d be able to pick up some of your clothes from the apartment as you walk into the bathroom and strip off your jeans that smell more like the streets of New York than the citrus scent you washed them with.

Funnily enough, Stark had the same shower as you did at your real home so, you have to pretend to figure out the various knobs just in case. After fiddling for a good five minutes, you set it to just how you like it and hop in with the plan to wash the stress of the past few days down the drain. By now Flora and Maeve should have moved the tier of enforcers to the new location along with a good chunk of your liquid assets to a new offshore account.

A month at the minimum. That’s how long Flora told you this would take and you knew better than to complain about it. This was a very stressful situation for all of you; for everyone involved.

Once you feel thoroughly cleansed, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel and exit the bathroom.

A plate on your nightstand catches your attention and the hairs on the back of your neck raise as the smell of delicious lasagna reaches your nose. The note next to the plate says it’s from Sam Wilson and, if you were a normal woman, you’d probably think his effort was thoughtful.

“FRIDAY?” You announce curiously.

“Yes Miss Mason?” She answers and you roll your shoulders. You’d have to get used to having a Stark AI instead of your trusty MARVI.

“Please don’t let anyone into my room when I’m unable to answer the door.”

Tags: @cherryblossomskye @hollarious​

[great-jenna-bake-off]

Season 3 Episode 6: Queen of Puddings

I started watching GBBO at least four years ago, and yet I still do not know what a pudding technically is. Sometimes it seems to just be a catchall term for “dessert”. This VOX article claims that “A British pudding is a dish, savory or sweet, that's cooked by being boiled or steamed in something: a dish, a piece of cloth, or even animal intestine,” which is confusing, because I don’t think I did any of that for this week’s bake. (There were certainly no animal intestines involved.) But whatever a pudding is, this week I made the Queen of Puddings, at least as defined by Mary Berry.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/queen_of_puddings_79904 

Step one was to grease a ¼ liter shallow ovenproof dish, which I do not have. Off to a great start! In my defense, there is only so much room for baking equipment in my apartment’s kitchen. I dug this dish up from my parents’ house and went with it because it was oval-shaped, like Mary’s example photo, but it definitely doesn’t qualify as “shallow”. 

Good enough.

Next up was to make a custard. First, I heated up milk, butter, lemon zest, and sugar in a sauce pan.

Does this count as “boiling or steaming” something?

Then, I carefully poured my warm egg mixture into a bowl with my egg yolks, which I had already separated from the whites. I whisked it together, and a custard was born.

Custard!

To make this custard more substantial, it is poured over a base of bread crumbs. Mary’s recipe specifies “fresh” bread crumbs, but I did not have a bunch of semi-stale bread lying around, so pre-packaged bread crumbs it is.

I told myself after my last bake that I’d stick to the recipe moving forward. Clearly that lesson did not sink in.

Crumbs + custard

I put my dish into a roasting tin, filled the tin with water, and stuck the whole thing in the oven.

At least my dish fits in the tin.

While my custard baked, I turned my attention to the next element of my bake: jam. Mary’s recipe suggests that you can use store-bought jam if you don’t want to make your own, but I have never made jam before and figured it was one of those things that was bound to come up sooner or later. Plus, I knew the bakers would have to do it, and I wanted to stay in the spirit of the competition. So I gave it a shot.

I used a mixture of raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries, since that’s what I had on hand in my freezer, but it seems any “summer fruit” will do.

I had some trouble getting my frozen berries to fully reduce into a cohesive sauce, and after what felt like ages of cooking time, my jam still seemed a bit watery with big chunks of fruit.

I guess this also counts as “boiling something”…

I decided to run my jam through a strainer, which didn’t help my watery-ness issue one bit, but I managed to mash the bigger pieces of fruit against the strainer to make them more sauce-like, and reincorporated it into the strained juice to produce something that could pass for jam, albeit a very runny one.

It’s a pretty color, at least.

Meanwhile, it was time to pull my custard out of the oven. I think I overcooked it slightly, but I had trouble getting the custard to set as much as I felt it should.

I baked the custard for about 35 minutes, instead of the 20-30 specified by the recipe.

While my custard cooled, it was time to make meringue. Luckily, I had some egg whites just sitting around that I had to separate from their yolks for the custard earlier. It’s always nice when a recipe doesn’t waste ingredients. Those egg whites and a bit of sugar quickly became meringue.

Thanks, KitchenAid stand mixer!

Finally, it was time to assemble. First, I put my jam on top of my custard. I vastly overestimated how solid the custard was and dumped a whole bunch of jam right on top, which caused it to mix in a bit with the custard. I quickly realized that it was better to gently spoon the jam on top of the custard.

Hopefully didn’t mess up the layers TOO much.

Next, it was time for meringue. I piped little poofs all over the top of the dish.

I’m actually very proud of my piping on this one.

And with that, the whole thing was ready to go back in the oven to brown the meringue. Not too difficult, all said and done. But would the bakers agree?

Sarah-Jane isn’t feeling too confident heading into the technical, as per usual. “You just have to kind of draw on everything you know about… everything… ever… in the space of five minutes,” she says.

I think Sarah-Jane might be my spirit animal.

Ryan has somehow never made custard or jam before, which leads me to question his GBBO preparation techniques.

Even I’ve made custard before!

Mary explains that the Queen of Puddings is many families’ favorite pudding, which I guess presumes that said families eat a variety of puddings on a regular enough basis to choose a favorite.

I’m really hung up on this whole “pudding” thing, I know.

As the bakers prepare their custards, Mel explains that they shouldn’t bake their custards too long or the surface will crack. I’m now thinking back to my own custard, which definitely had some cracks in the top. Whoops!

I mean it will be covered in jam and meringue… no one will know. 

Next, it’s time to move on to the jam, and Brendan seems to be some kind of jam savant, explaining that he’s looking for a soft-set jam. After all, he says, “There are some advantages to being older… you learn the setting point of jam.”

Showoff. 

Like me, John has some problems with the jam running into his custard, although his are much worse.

“Mary’s going to slap me in the face,” he moans.

The bakers seem intimidated by the meringue layer, which I find confusing. Meringue just… isn’t that hard?

Here, Danny whips up a second meringue, worried that her first one was too runny.

Finally, all the puddings are in the oven. 

Classic GBBO on-the-floor oven-watching pose.

Brendan seems to have gotten a nice golden brown color on the top of his meringue. Will this be the key to a technical challenge win?

Like a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

During the judging, Mary announces that the glass dishes they gave the bakers were part of her evil plan, so she and Paul can see how even the layers are on the puddings.

Feeling grateful for my ceramic dish right about now…

Unfortunately, James has overcooked his custard, which means it came out watery. 

Would I fall victim to the same pitfall?

In the end, Brendan’s lifetime of jam knowledge proves useful, and he takes home the win.

It does look like a rather royal pudding. 

My pudding was ready to come out of the oven, but would it be fit for a queen? First, here’s Mary’s example pudding… 

That’s a very elegant shallow dish.

And here’s mine.

Look at that piping!

The slice admittedly didn’t look too delicious, but there’s a reason Mary’s photo only includes the dish – I just don’t think this one is meant to look pretty on the plate. The show also didn’t really showcase what the bakers’ slices/scoops of pudding looked like. So I’m pretty sure mine is about right. Also, Mary’s recipe said to serve with “pouring cream”, so that’s what the puddle is around the pudding, not melted custard. (The bakers did not seem to do that in the show).

I thought my Queen of Puddings was pretty regal, actually. The meringue had good volume and was nicely crispy, and the jam and custard layers actually held up on the plate. But now it was time to see if my esteemed panel of judges would agree.

***

Matt’s Review: I was actually full from dinner when I dug into this pudding, and I was worried it was going to be too heavy. But as soon as I took my first bite and felt how soft and airy it was, I quickly ate the whole thing. Turned out, that’s a purely mouth-feel thing and I got a horrible stomach ache. But it was worth it. It’s a bread mush with surprisingly complicated flavors—sweetness was potentially the least pronounced one there. The fluffy texture (which I have to assume Jenna nailed) really let you focus on those flavors. It’s a balancing act, and the pudding landed it gracefully. I have no way to fairly judge presentation, but I will add that there’s nothing better than having a Tupperware full of pudding arrive at your door.

Wilson’s Review: Beautiful presentation, clearly defined merengue structure. Some nice peaks, clearly have a steady hand with the piping. But, the color’s a bit light isn’t it? In the future maybe keep it in the oven for a touch longer, or up the heat. Cutting it open you’ve got some nice defined layers, well done. Flavor is good, you can really taste the summer in the jam. The lemon isn’t really coming through, and that’s a key element to balance the sweetness of the jam and the crisp of the meringue – need that acidity. Overall a very good bake, worthy of being served on anyone’s summer table. 

***

Final Thoughts: As Matt mentioned, the pudding was delivered to him in the least royal of ways, dumped unceremoniously in a Tupperware and left on his doorstep. So sadly he didn’t get to witness the beauty of my pudding in its original form, and personally, I thought it looked great. I also enjoyed eating it – the meringue was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and the custard was smooth and creamy. The jam was definitely a little runnier than a store-bought variety, but I did like it enough to use the leftovers on toast for several breakfasts, so it worked out well enough. And to Wilson’s point, it needed a little more browning on the top of the meringue – perhaps I should have used the broiler at the very end to get that nice golden color. Overall, this was not a particularly tough bake, which was a nice change of pace after trying to get pie dough to defy gravity for the last bake. I still don’t know what a pudding is, but I did enjoy eating it.

[blackbutterfliescal]

He Wanted Love, I Taste Of Blood

A Muke One Shot

Pairing: Michael Clifford x Luke Hemmings

Word count: 2.3K

Rating: E for Everyone

Content: college AU, major character death, light discussion of sexual situations (no actual smut), gore mention but nothing explicit/drawn out

A/N: I’m so excited to share my first ever collab event fic!! This kinda became it’s own monster and is pretty different from anything I’ve tried before. My prompt was “The legend said it only goes after virgins…so sucks for you I guess.” The title is from the song Love Like Winter by AFI, which has nothing to do with this fic but it’s a jam 😅 Big thank you to @spicycal ​ and @devilatmydoor ​ for encouraging me to stick to my guns while writing this. It’s a little shorter than I’d like but 🤷‍♀️

✨ Masterlist ✨

Event Masterlist 🦇

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Feedback is always appreciated! 😊

———

The scratch of dead leaves skittering across the pavement in the twilight breeze is the only thing occupying Luke’s mind, causing his skin to crawl the same way that nails on a chalkboard do. With every scuff of his shoes along the hard ground, he traps another smattering of decaying foliage under his sole, leaving deep hues of carnage on the sidewalk in his wake.

A warm presence quickly spreading across the inside of his palm causes his head to stop its constant nervous swivel, snapping towards the sensation. Luke lets out a breath of laughter when realization dawns on him - it’s just Michael. “Are you even listening to me at all, Luke?” Michael’s tone holds a gentle tease as he slots his fingers between Luke’s and prods his side with an elbow. Luke timidly returns a smile but his eyes are still wild. He can’t stop thinking that Michael is much too calm as they look ahead to see the lights down the street flicker on; the resulting buzz loud enough to drown out leaves crunching under their feet.

The two of them had spent the better part of the chilly Saturday afternoon at the park down the street, holding warm cider in their sweater paw-clad hands and trading off bites of the various pumpkin treats they’d picked up from the bakery across the street. When Luke had transferred to the local college a little more than a month ago, he hadn’t known anyone. He’d intentionally chosen a school far from home, wanting a new start after spending his first year at a community college near home. Starting over without knowing anyone was stressful and he was thankful that Michael had so quickly introduced himself. Luke always felt terribly awkward trying to make new friends, especially since so many people met their friends through events like freshman orientation, which Luke missed out on. He’d met Michael through his roommate and he’d immediately taken Luke under his wing, appreciating that Luke could match his banter and weird sense of humor. They’d hung out a couple of times in the dorm commons where Luke lived, playing video games until the wee hours of the morning. But today, as the sun casts the vibrantly colored trees in deeper shades of yellow and orange, Michael is thankful it’s just the two of them. It means that there’s no worry of prying roommates and he feels free to pull Luke into him, planting a soft kiss on his lips under the sprawling oak tree. It’s warm and sweet - the lingering cider and confections still clinging to their lips. Luke’s expression leaves Michael panicked that he’s gotten everything mixed up yet again but it didn’t take Luke long to fall into Michael once more. And then again. And again. Until he feels like he’ll crash and burn without the taste of Michael on his lips.

Neither of them are sure how long they’ve spent hiding from the world under that oak tree before Michael volunteers to walk Luke home, but Luke is sure they’ve stayed too long to make it across campus to his dorm before dark. It’s getting more and more difficult to see Michael’s soft features when they pass through the dim spaces between worn out street lamps. As they take the turn to Luke’s block, Michael can feel Luke’s pace pick up - clearly wanting to be in the safety of his building. They pass a newspaper box and the print pressed against the plexiglass window catches Michael’s attention. “THREE ATTACKS IN THREE WEEKS” reads the bold letters atop the page. A slightly smaller line below calls out the newly-implemented dusk curfew due to little police progress in the investigations. Michael keeps quiet about the papers, not wanting to add to Luke’s frenzy, but the way Luke averts his eyes tells him that Luke is already well aware.

Michael had heard the wildest rumors - that there was some sort of inhuman monster to blame for the deaths or that it was occult related. And sure, he knew every New England town had its share of weird cryptid stories and weirdos, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it was anything other than a particularly bold black bear. He’s lived nearby his whole life and has never seen anything like the hysteria that was gripping the sleepy little town now. It makes sense to him that a newbie like Luke would be overly terrified though, especially as the days grew shorter with the approach of the harsh grey winter.

As they approach the loop in front of Luke’s dorm, Luke is practically dragging Michael behind him in a sprint. Any trace of daylight is completely gone from the sky and each passing second seems to increase Luke’s panic. They come to a sudden halt in front of the large glass doors that lead to the commons and Luke drops Michael’s hand, beginning to fumble for his keycard between ragged, panting breaths. Michael is doing all he can to not giggle at Luke’s frantic nature. Michael couldn’t be less worried about the dark; he knows there’s not a black bear in the world brazen enough to come up to them right now. Assuming it was a black bear causing all the trouble... It seems like an eternity that Michael watches Luke’s hands struggle to make the machine on the door read his card.

“Why does this stupid thing never work! I live here!!” The shadow suddenly casting over Luke’s clumsy hands is enveloped quickly by Michael’s frigid fingers. Michael’s hands feel firm around Luke’s and Luke lets him pull the flimsy plastic from him. Michael does his best to calm Luke as he runs the card through the machine slot a couple of times until the latch clicks open to grant them access. “See? We’re okay. Nothing to worry about.” Michael’s tone is gentle as Luke releases the air that’s been burning in his lungs. The nip in the air isn’t doing Luke any favors when it comes to catching his breath or the flushed tint on his face. And the kiss Michael places on the rosiest part of his cheek definitely isn’t helping either.

The offending keycard lands in Luke’s palm as Michael flashes a comforting smile. “Well, now that I’ve been a gentleman - walked you home and kissed you goodnight - I should get home too. Curfew and whatnot...” Michael sheepishly tucks his hands in his pockets, trying to keep them from freezing stiff, and turns away from Luke.

Without a second thought, Luke reaches out to wrap his spindly fingers around Michael’s wrist and doesn’t bother to hide worry on his face. “Maybe you should stay. Just to be safe, I mean. I don’t want you to walk across campus alone with god knows what out there.” Luke tosses a quick glance beyond the well-lit drop off loop, eyes wide. “Come on! I’m pretty sure that my roommate’s gone for the weekend, so there’s even an extra bed. And I’m sure I can find something of mine for you to sleep in.” The surprised look on Michael’s face brings back the panic in Luke’s chest as he spits out a quick “Only if you want!!” trying to play it off.

The smile that lifts Michael’s cheeks is amused while he assures Luke that he’s walked home in the dark plenty of times and lived to tell the tales. “Besides… even if it is a monster, the legend says it only goes after virgins…” The teasing on Michael’s face vanishes completely, watching Luke hug his arms around his own stomach and chew on his bottom lip. The concern on his face makes Michael reconsider - though he feels like there’s something else hiding behind Luke’s pleading gaze. Was Luke worried about still being a virgin? Or maybe he was worried because now he knew Michael wasn’t?

“Ohhh. Oh!! That’s why you’re so scared.” Michael turns back toward Luke and lets his hands rest on Luke’s too-broad shoulders, trying to use the most calming tone he could manage. “Listen, it’s just an urban legend. Some stupid frat guys probably made up to get their girlfriends to sleep with them!” Luke wasn’t expecting this turn of conversation after only three dates and he’s fallen quiet, hyperaware of the fact that the automatic lock on the door had clicked in place again and they still hadn’t made it inside yet. His steely blues meet Michael’s soft green eyes and the wind howls around them.

“Is that why you want me to stay over so soon, Luke? I mean…. I like you. I really do! But I don’t know about taking your virginity just because of some crazy rumor…” Luke lets out a small laugh and stares down at his feet. He unravels his arms from around his middle and holds out his hand for Michael. “No, you goon. I just really don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re the only friend I’ve got here!” Michael scoffs, feigning offense at Luke’s use of the word “friend”.

“Sucks to be you, I guess. You’re never gonna lose your virginity if you keep making out with guys and then calling them your friends,” Michael teases as he bumps Luke’s shoulder with his own. Luke rolls his eyes in response, earning him a fit of laughter as he scans his keycard again, managing entry on the first try, and pulls Michael through the main doors and down his hallway.

Once inside the warm air of Luke’s room, Michael sinks down onto Luke’s bed with an overexaggerated sigh, immediately making himself at home and watching as Luke roots through his dresser to find sweatpants for the pair of them. He eventually finds suitable options and makes his way across the room, offering Michael his pick of the outfits he’s gathered up. As Luke stretches out his hands to show Michael his choices, Michael grabs them both with a playful grin and tosses them onto the bed beside him. Luke begins to protest at his disregard but Michael reaches for Luke’s now-empty hands, ever so slowly pulling him forward until his knees knock against the bed. He holds Luke’s gaze as his hands move toward his hips, gently tugging him onto the bed so his long legs can fold over themselves on either side of Michael’s hips. Luke lets his lips part in anticipation as he settles onto Michael’s lap.

Michael’s hands have warmed from their previous state and Luke thinks they might burn right through him where they snake around his waist. Luke’s thawed fingertips land softly on each side of Michael’s full cheeks as he smiles up at him. The space between them is alive with electricity as they move closer before Luke finally leans down to close the gap. This kiss was different than the ones underneath the oak tree this afternoon, full of something Luke had never let himself experience before. It was soft and slow and filled with the kind of tenderness that only appears in timid new relationships.

Not wanting to rush into anything Luke might regret, Michael breaks the kiss and begins to speak while tracing feather-light touches up and down Luke’s back.

“‘S cute that you worried about me, you know? You’re sweet.” Luke smiles before pressing his puffy lips to Michael’s again briefly, leaving them behind to trail down the side of his neck, causing his reply to come out muffled.

“Not as sweet as you’ll be.” Michael hums inquisitively, assuming he misheard.

“I said, not as sweet as you. I can still taste…” Luke leans into Michael’s lips again. “Pumpkin...apples…and….” Michael smiles under the kiss this time. “Cinnamon!” Luke lingers over Michael’s mouth for a few beats, a hungry look in his eyes. “I’m glad you decided to stay tonight. Much better with you here.” Michael pulls Luke’s body flush against his, the mischief on his face matching Luke’s.

“You know, I still don’t think we should do it just so you won’t be a virgin anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun…” Michael bites the corner of his lip and pulls Luke down to him with much more purpose this time. A flurry of hands begin to tug at fabric and rush over heated skin. Luke nips down Michael’s neck again and he’s sure to leave bruises but that doesn’t seem to bother him.

“We don’t only go after virgins, just so you know,” he offers to Michael between shallow breaths. Unsure he heard correctly, Michael sits back to take in Luke’s face. “What? What does that mean? Who’s ‘we’?”

“Just that you shouldn’t believe everything that you hear,” Luke states very matter-of-fact with a glint of something indiscernable in his eyes. “Luke… I don’t - What? You’re scaring me. What are you talking about?” Michael’s sure that Luke’s messing with him, probably as payback for the virgin jokes earlier.

“Well. Virgins are sweeter - like getting to eat dessert for dinner. But the rumors are wrong. We don’t only go after virgins. That’s not really practical, is it?” As he speaks, Luke looks directly into Michael’s eyes and runs his thumb across Michael’s glossy lip before trailing over the marks already appearing on his neck.

The little bit of color that was flushed over Michael’s cheeks previously is gone and the horror that’s taken over his sweet face almost makes Luke second guess what comes next. Almost. And someday he’ll learn not to play with his food but he admits that it makes things so much more fun. Michael thickly swallows and squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe if he doesn’t open them, it won’t be real. Maybe he’ll wake up from a nap in the park under that old oak tree.

When his curiosity gets the better of him, he unscrews his eyelids to see Luke, still on his lap, with eyes that glow a deep amber. The sinister smile that stretches across Luke’s face reveals multiple rows of pointed teeth, which he uses to make quick work of Michael’s throat, desperate pleas and screams still trapped inside.

———

taglist: @easierlftv​​ @haikucal​​ @mashlums​​​ @youngblood199456​​ @calumbroutledge​​ @alltimesos​​ @another-lonely-heart​​ @castaway-cashton​​ @itsjen223​​ @bloodyoathcal​​ @vapor5sos​​ @myloverboyash​​ @justhereforcalum​​ @karajaynetoday​​ @spicycal​​ @devilatmydoor​​

[susoftjockau]

The Party - Part Seven

Looking at plants was the type to inflame a ravenous hunger. Well, anything can make one hungry, so this wasn't a new experience for him even with the new context to it. If anything, this was one of the less intense but pleasing moments in his life, where he could enjoy a meal without that lulling buzz of deja vu he kept having when it came to eating in general — veggie burgers, salads, pizzas, somewhere located with the cheerleaders with no care in the world; it was a pattern that he got used to quickly.

This time it was a bit different: there was a light squeeze in his chest, the kind that kept him warm like a fireplace even with the cold walk out of the park and the goosebumps riding his arms. It must've been Connie; he wouldn't lie that she had been a small crush of his ever since they met — it didn't help that this intensified because of that magical statue he touched a week before that, being told that it granted miracles of romance, which he was a sucker for. He could question why he had such an affinity for her but it was already there for him if he squinted hard enough. It must’ve been her warm personality. Or her intelligence. Or anything else for that matter that kept him focused to his jam bud, staying right next to her as they exited the Japanese grounds for some food.

They found the truck on the outskirts of the garden — wafting of spice and vegetable, dream catchers dangling from the overhang, makeshift tables harboring a few families and teenagers for the night. Some were talkative, but many appeared to be relaxing, enjoying the solitude as the truck took orders for plates and cups of Mexican cuisine, the clang and tussle of kitchen utensils resounding within in an enthusiastic beat.

Connie took account of the menu boards plastered above the truck's open grate, a small frown on her lips. "Do you think they have salads?"

Steven looked through the contents. There were tacos, quesadillas, customized cups of horchata, and everything in-between, but there doesn't seem to be any that would fit a description of a salad. He knitted his eyebrows, there was some case for worry here. "We could ask for non-meat stuff? I could take out the stuff if I have to."

"I know that, but," she bit her lip, flinching at a loud clang of metal from the truck's kitchen, "I have to make sure their meals don't have too many carbs or cholesterol."

Oh. He felt a bit ashamed for forgetting that one tidbit: that his jam bud had a diet stricter than his. "Wellll, we'll just see where it goes. One of these dishes must have a lot of vegetables, they’re bound to help us with custom orders; they sound like they'll be okay with it if it makes their customers happy."

"I hope so." She rubbed her arm, but after a second of it she pulled it back down, like the action burned her upon contact. "I don't want my stomach to act up."

"We could find another restaurant if that works for you."

"No, no," she shook her head. "I'm okay, let's just ask them and see if we have to move or not."

He nodded. Sounds like a deal. "Alright."

The ordeal wasn't that worrisome when it came down to it. There were a slew of questions over which dishes had the most vegetables, which one harbored non-meat ingredients, and the typical pondering of choices they could pluck from the menu, both of them taking jabs on what would be the best dish — Connie more weary on her end than his. It wasn't a nervous wreck of a deal, but he could tell something was on her mind, something fumbling around her noggin like a pest on a wall. He had the patience; he had the time, yet he didn’t want to ignore it.

"You feeling okay, Strawberry?" The nickname caught her off guard. They were sitting at a table, facing each other with their meals. Steven had picked from a platter of small veggie tacos, and she was nibbling at her burrito, sweet potatoes peeking through the salsa verde, teeth hesitant on digging into the contents. It was a quiet affair, but there was a tension in the air, something he couldn't describe, yet there nonetheless. "You seem out of it."

"Am I?" Connie put her burrito down, wiping a sauce smear from her chin. Her eyes were downtrodden, looking away from him. "Sorry, I'm just thinking."

"You could tell me if it bothers you." He put one of his tacos onto her plate -- a peace offering, he called it, the breaking of tacos, even if he didn’t really break it and kept it in one piece.

She gave him a sheepish smile, putting the taco back onto his set. "Well…"

"I promise," he did a criss-cross motion in front of his chest, "won't say a word to anyone."

"I know you wouldn't." She grimaced slightly. "I'm just nervous to say it."

"Well," he said. "You don't have to tell me if you're nervous but I promise you that no matter what, I'll accept what you'll say."

"You're so sweet." Her sentence seemed to take him by surprise. Even she seemed to be surprised, tone twisting into something unfamiliar. "But yeah, I'll tell you, if it makes things a little bit easier."

"Remember, Connie," he said. "I'm always open."

"Mhm. Just give me a moment."

At the sight of her quick bite at her food, he smirked at her. "How is it?"

"It's good," she admitted, cheeks brushed with pink. "Better than I realized."

He couldn't help his giggle as she started back up again, putting the burrito down.

"It's just that," she fumbled with her fingers on the table, biting her lip, shoulders tense under the weak moonlight. "I get anxious over these types of events." She stopped, looking at him with inquiry in her stare like she was waiting for him to react. After a second, he nodded. That was enough. "When your friends were around, I'd feel like I'm drowning, overwhelmed by all of it — two of them are okay, yes, but having all of them surround me and ask questions made me want to get away...or dissociate."

"Ah…" He tried not to take offense to it. Being truthful was better than just lying to him, but somehow it still hit him that this would be hard. He can't just place her into his friend group with one step, it wasn't that simple; people had to adjust in their own ways, pacing themselves to something manageable. For Connie, she couldn't handle a crowd with all eyes on her, he'll have to take it slow or he won't have his favorite people around unless he wanted a chance of her having a panic attack.

"Okay." He said, taking a bite from his taco, chewing slowly. He needed a moment to ponder. Think. What could help her? How slow was he supposed to go? Where should they start? "You said you could manage how many at a time?"

"Two or less." Her voice went higher. "But if you really want me to get to know them, then I can try anything as long as it doesn't make me anxious."

"But you don't have to befriend them if you don't want to." He reminded her.

"That doesn't mean I don't want to." She stated. "Back at the food table, I did have a conversation with one of them; it didn't pull me into a fit or had me wanting to leave, it actually felt nice." Before he could respond, she added one more. "I'm open to trying something with you, with them, but I'll tell you if it's too much, if I can't handle it."

A sharp inhale. "You promise that?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Okay." Think. Think. Think. She could take two or less. She was able to find stuff to talk about with them without being uncomfortable. He had the patience to guide it and she had the honesty to tell him if anything went wrong. He rubbed his chin; there was an idea, but he had to get it through her before he could think of it further. "What about one-on-one time? We could schedule hangouts with them so only you and one of the girls could get to know each other. I could be a third party so you don't have to talk much if it gets awkward!"

Connie stared at him, uncertainty in her eyes — the intrigue, however, was churning in them. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Mumbles strung out from her lips. "I don't think a third party would be necessary for all of them. There are some cheerleaders that harbor more of an outgoing and talkative personality than some I've noticed. I could handle them, the only ones I'm worrying about are the ones who might be too much."

"So...I'll only come if you need me?"

"Mhm."

Okay, he thought, a smile beginning to grow on him. They were making progress; they were compromising. If they could tinker with it more, they should be able to make it work. He spoke up. "We could make a list of who'll go first? I can give you a description of each one and what they like to talk about and you can rate them on who you're most likely to get along with."

"Yeah." Her face lightened up. An ease was there, finally. "Yeah, that can work!"

"Do you have a piece of paper? I want to write the list down."

"What if we just use our phones?" She fished it out from her pocket.

"Oh yeah,” he couldn’t help his embarrassed giggle. “That works."

Progress was being made.

[forlornmelody]

Trust Exercise

Rating: E (Smut with some plot, for flavor.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn

Linkage: Ao3

Summary: Harley wants to try something new, but Ivy isn't sure her girlfriend is ready to see that part of her.

Note: Commission for @rookie009. Dude, thank you so much for commissioning me again. And insisting I write my faves. <3

->->->

Ivy’s in the lab when Harley finds her, nose-deep in an experiment she’s been running all day. “Oh, hey, babe. Did you get my text?”

“Mmhm.” Harley’s hands grasp her shoulders, her fingers meandering past the collar of her lab coat. 

“So, you know that I can’t do date night tonight.” Harley’s lips find her cheek, then her ear, and the tissue culture Ivy’s been working on for the past hour slips from her fingers. 

“Sure you can.” Her lips meander down her neck, as Ivy stares at the ruined culture with both horror and... arousal. Something hot roils in her belly, and Ivy stifles it as she turns around. 

“Harley. How many times do I have to tell you--”

“Mm. You’re even more pretty when you’re angry.” Harley grabs Ivy by the lapel of her lab coat, pulling her in for a kiss. The jungle surrounding the lab roils as if shaken in a gale force wind. 

Ivy breathes her in, and pushes her back, holding her girlfriend at arm’s length. “Harl, if you want me to tie you up, you only need to ask.”

Harley flushes, biting her lip as she glances away. Ivy draws her attention back with a finger under her chin. “Do you want me to tie you up?”

“Ives…”

“Harleen Francis Quinzel, I promise you I won’t ask again.”

“Yes!” Harley says quickly.

“Yes, what?”

“Tie me up.” Harleen swallows, her tongue darting out to wet her lip. 

“And?”

Her skin blushes pink as one of her pigtails, and Ivy almost doesn’t hear her. 

“What?”

“I said use your vines.”

“You sure?” The words fall out of Ivy’s mouth before she realizes what she’s asking. Sure, she’s usually the dominant one in bed--Ivy knows what she likes and how to ask for it. But this...Damnit, Pamela. What if this is too much? What if being tied up and used reminds her too much of…. Ivy doesn’t even think his name. She just conjures up an image in her head and sets it on fire. 

“Ives?” Harley says, her eyes widening and her mouth shrinking into a small oh. 

“Sorry?” 

“You okay, Pam-a-lamb?” Harley brushes her thumb across Ivy’s cheek, pushing a wisp of hair out of the way. God, she must look like a mess right now. 

“Of course!” she lies, and a nearby fittonia albivenis wilts in protest. Charlie, as she liked to call him, always is a dramatic asshole. “Go on.”

“You sure? Cause George doesn’t look so good.”

“Charlie.” Ivy sighs, rubbing her forehead.  “His name is Charlie.” She nods over at the opposite corner, where a helianthus annuus, commonly known as a sunflower, is giving her a judgmental stare. “That’s George.” 

“Daisy Girl...if the plants are upset, you must be upset.” Harley Quinn leans closer, so Ivy has to meet her eyes. “You can’t lie to a therapist, remember?”

“I can try,” Ivy mutters. 

“I know you too well, Pam-jam. Now tell me what’s eatin’ ya.”

Now, Doctor Pamela Isley could uncover her sordid history with her parents, charm school, the nice conservative respectable university her parents sent her off to--the one she dropped out of and ran away from, the respectable open minded one she graduated from, the mentor who ruined her and created her, and the day they met in Arkham, but Harley already knows she doesn’t dump her past out of the trash can for everyone to see, especially when there’s a bed in sight, metaphorically speaking. God, what a buzzkill that would be. “I want to believe you, Harls. When you say you want this.” Ivy presses her thumb into Harley’s bottom lip. “But how do I know you’re not just saying this to make me happy?” Like she always would with...well. 

“Easy. You trust me.”

Does she? 

The powder-mix lemonade crashes against the opposite wall, barely missing her therapist’s head. “Stop fucking analyzing me. I’m not your rat.”

Dr. Quinzel doesn’t defend herself or argue against the insult. “You’ve good aim.” She does, however, flinch. Something twists in Ivy’s gut. At first, she thinks the Morton’s cafeteria slop has turned sour yet again, but Ivy notices the feeling runs deeper this time, and it spreads like frost throughout her middle, all the way to her lungs. “Softball?”

Fucking hell. She’s feeling remorse. “Gymnastics.” The answer spills out of Ivy’s mouth before she can stop it. 

And then Dr. Quinzel’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Me too! Did you compete? Which team?” 

Ivy spills some more, and they swap memories, apparently having crossed paths without remembering the other at one point or another. Not that Dr. Quinzel would have ever recognized Dr. Pamela Isley when she was a tween with braces and an awkward smile. Or Dr. Isley would have remembered Dr. Quinzel was a spirited overachiever with a chip on her shoulder. Actually, Pamela takes that back. She can see some of it now. She also notices Dr. Quinzel’s hands intertwined with her own. And the warmth between them. 

 “Please, call me Harleen.” Harleen smiles shyly, biting her lip. 

Ivy gulps. “Do all your patients get to call you that?”

And just like that the moment’s gone. But Ivy’s hands feel warm long after Dr. Isley has left the room. 

->->->

Ivy should have known this was a set up. The security guard missing from his post. The alarms turned off. The dark room where the lights should have had motion sensors and generator backup. She should have turned back the moment she noticed, but she couldn’t leave this warehouse like this. Not with one of two middlemist camellias sitting inside, ripped from its soil in New Zealand and brought to Gotham for a filthy auction.

The moment Ivy touches the leaves the door slams shut behind her, and she notices the sealant sprayed on all the windows. Oh no. A hose hisses on the floor, and Ivy slowly feels the air being sucked from the room. No. No. No. Not like this.

There’s no chair, no bat, nothing to break the windows with. Just Dr. Pamela Isley and the lonely Middlemist’s Red that will die with her. Pam closes her eyes, and tries not to hyperventilate, counting her breaths just like Harley taught her—

“NOT TODAY ASSHATS.” Glass shards rain on the floor, and an alluminum bat clangs against the concrete floor. “Pambsel?” Soft fingers touch her shoulder. “Ivy? Come on, Ivy. Stay with me.”

“Ivy?” Harley’s staring at her in their bedroom, her eyebrows lifted in concern.

“I trust you more than anyone else.”

Harley brushes her lips against hers. “And I trust you more than a stripper trusts her heels.”

“God.” Ivy chortles despite herself. “That’s terrible, Harley. Maybe I should keep you from talking.” Those words sound so...different once they’re out of her mouth. Like cinnamon candy burning on her lips. 

For once, Harleen Francis Quinnzel has nothing to say. Her mouth hangs slightly open, to the point that Ivy wants to trace it with her fingertip, maybe slip her finger past those lips to see Harley suck on— “Would you?” Harley whispers, blushing as pink as one of her pigtails. 

“I’d love to.” It’s a little unnerving how easily this comes to her. “But there’s only one thing.”

“What’s that?” Harley leans closer, her hands grasping at Ivy’s clothes, pleading without pleading. 

“What’s our safe-word?”

“Puddin’?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Batman?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, Pretty Girl. You’re killin’ me here.”

“It has to be a word we both agree to, Harley. Rules are rules.”

“Says who?” Harley leans in close, her hands on her hips. 

Ivy smirks at her, whispering in her ear. “Says the woman who is about to give you a night you won’t forget.”

At this point, Ivy half expects Harley to say Arkham, but she doesn’t. “Robinson Park.” 

It’s Ivy’s turn to lose her words. Of course, Harley would name her old hideout. Well. Not just any old hideout. The place where they first kissed. “That’s--that’s two words.”

Harley grins proudly, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek. “Does that break the rules, Rosey Cheeks?”

Ivy allows it. She also allows herself to check with Harley several times as she persuades a nearby pharnera vahili to stretch towards them. The plant balks initially at the thought of making its flower buds large enough to penetrate, but Ivy mutters a quiet “Coward” and the plant swells to prove her wrong. Perhaps Peter would be a fitting name for this one? Brushing the buds, she strengthens him, hardens them, really, and shoos any creatures or enzymes that would bring harm to her favorite person in the whole world. 

“Ready, Harley?”

Harley nods, biting a grin. 

Ivy steps towards her, pinching her chin between her finger and thumb. “If this is going to work, I’m going to need you to use your words, Harleen.”

“Yes.” Harley gulps a breath of air, and she closes her eyes as if she’s about to kiss her. 

Pulling out of her reach, Ivy returns to Peter, stroking a few tendrils, feigning more interest in them than her lover. “Then remove your shorts. I’d hate to ruin them.” 

“These always were your favorite, weren’t they, Red?”

Indeed, they are. “Perhaps.” Ivy can’t help but watch them slip down Harley’s cream-colored thighs. She itches to get between them but that will have to wait. “Now lay down.”

“But--”

“It’ll be easier to secure you from the bed, trust me.”

“Always.”

Again, that itch. That burning unyielding need to touch every inch of Harley’s skin, exposed or not. This is just as much an exercise in patience for her as it is for Harley. Ivy whisks her fingers, curling the vines around Harley’s wrists and ankles. “Is that comfortable?”

Harley nods quickly, only to see Ivy quirk her eyebrow impatiently. “Yes, Ives,” she says, her breath ragged. 

“How about now?” The vines lengthen and grow, suspending Harley’s prone body in the air. Ivy wishes she could draw how beautiful Harley looks like this, her mouth parted and arched back, her legs already flushes with need. 

“Amazing.” Harley closes her eyes. “I feel like I’m floating.” 

“And what is our safe word, again?”

Harley starts to say it, only for Ivy to brush between her calves with a tendril.

“That tickles!” 

“Don’t squirm.” Ivy smirks despite herself, stroking the inside of Harley’s legs, from the bottoms of her calves to the narrowest point between her thighs, edging around her center but never quite touching it. 

Twisting in her restraints, Harley groans. “Don’t tease me, Pam-Pam.”

“I believe you asked me to tease you. Isn’t that the point?” The tendril snakes past her middle, scratching under her chin. “To make you beg for it?”

“Please.” The vine edges back down, circling her warmth, now moist with the juices dripping down her legs. 

“Please what?”

“Touch me.” She pleads, seeing Ivy’s lips pressed in a thin line. “Touch my clit.”

“That’s my girl.” Ivy resists the urge to mirror the motion of her plant. Her own thighs twitch with want. Her vine grazes Harley’s lower lips, feather light in their touch, and Ivy aches at the whimper slipping from Harley’s mouth. She keeps circling with smaller and smaller circles until Harley shakes and keens. And that’s when she drags the vine against where Harley wants her most. 

“Oh fuck. Fuckity-fuck fuck.” Harley strains against her bonds, her hips writhing against the vine. 

Ivy licks her lips. “Would you like this vine inside you?”

“Mmhm...y-yeah.” Harley’s voice breaks on the edge of her first orgasm. 

Then Ivy pulls away.

“No, Ives, please. Please touch me. I’m--I’m so close.” 

“I know, Harl.” Ives steps around the now massive bulk Peter has grown into, caressing Harley’s own cheek with the back of her own hand. God, she wants to tear off all their clothes right now and just have her way, but she can’t. Not yet. “I’m going to give you something special.” One nail presses into Harley’s cheek, enough to indent, but enough to break the skin. “Would you like to know what it is?”

Sweat glistens around Harley’s hairline as she looks back at Ivy helplessly. “Yeah.” She manages. 

Shit. She must be thirsty. “Hold on.” She snatches a water bottle, holding it to Harley’s lips. “Drink some water.” Ivy doesn’t pull the bottle away until Harley’s finished it. She downs her tea. Then she rubs her fingers together, until oily spots form on her fingertips. “This oil will heighten your sensations. Do you want it?”

Harley can’t even form words at first, but she manages. “Please, Pammin-Jammin. I need you.”

Ivy also licks her lips, her entire mouth tasting like vegetable oil, but stronger. And the oil packs some heat. Not enough to burn, but enough that she’ll need to wash her mouth out later if she’s going to focus on anything. “I need you too, Harley.” She brushes her lips against Harley’s and want hits her like a gale-force wind. With the way Harley moans into her mouth--she feels that way too. Patience. Even the quickest-growing plants need time to breathe. 

Before Harley can deepen the kiss, Ivy trails her lips down her chin, her neck, and her collar bone. She massages her shoulders, her arms, then up her sides and back down again. Ivy kisses down to her chest, avoiding Harley’s already too sensitive tits and just focusing on the valley between them, pausing a moment to listen to her quickening heartbeat. Harley squirms, and Ivy holds her steady, paying careful attention to the planes of her abdomen. Her hands move around Harley’s hips, pinching either side of her ass, covering her thighs and in between. “Oh, Ivy.”

When Ivy finishes caressing Harley’s feet, she stands up to see Harley’s face caught like a saint in a Raphaelite painting. She guides her own hands around one of the tendrils, slowly, gently penetrating her as if she were using a dildo. And when the tendril is as far in as it’ll go, Ivy grins against her ear. “Ready?”

“Mmhm,” Harley whimpers. 

Ivy snaps her fingers, and the tendril takes on life of its own, pumping in and out of her lover without any guidance from her. 

“Fuck!” Harley gasps, her wrists twisting in her bonds as she seeks purchase to rock back against the vine. “Oh, fuck that’s good.”

Ivy finds her hands drifting down towards her legs. She clenches them behind her back to hold them still. Not yet. Focus on Harley. But focusing on her and how fucked she is seems to be part of Ivy’s problem. Licking her lips, she asks, “How do you feel about anal?”

“Mm?” Harley probably means to ask, but her mm sounds more like a moan than anything else. 

Making a point of rolling her eyes, Ivy snaps her fingers a second time, and the vine pulls out of her. 

“No no no. Please. I was almost…”

“I asked you a question, Harl.” Ivy growls, more from arousal than annoyance, but Harley’s eyes widen.

“What was the question?”

“Do you.” Ivy grips Harley’s chin. “Like. Anal sex?”

 Harley’s eyes brighten and her frown morphs into an ecstatic smile. “Double penetration?” She bites her lip. “Would you?”

“I’d love to. But first.” Ivy pulls out a familiar bottle--her own recipe. She squirts a generous amount on her fingers, and ringing a circle around Harley’s butt hole, and then little by little, probing inside with her finger. “Good girl,” she whispers in Harley’s ear. Her lover starts to tense up, and Ivy holds her hip firmly with her other hand. “Relax. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever known, and you have done the impossible time and time again.” 

“You...you really think t-that?”

“I know that, Harley.” Her finger gets pulled deeper inside, and Ivy works her open gently, as Harley’s eyes glaze over and her mouth drops open. “And tonight, I’m going to make you feel how amazing you are. Do you trust me?”

“Mm. Y-yeah.”

“Then you’re gonna take more for me.” Ivy whispers, taking Harley’s lobe between her teeth. Harley shudders and nods, and Ivy, slowly, gently, and with more oil, adds a second finger. 

“Nn--Ivy, Oh god. Please. I--I need.”

“Need what?”

“More.” 

“More what?”

Harley moans--whimpers in reply, “I---make me come,” she begs, sprawled in mid-air, and Ivy raises her free hand to pull the prepared vines. “Pam-Pam, please.” She croaks. “Please, Pamela.”

The vine droops just inches from Harley’s hips.

“Pamela Isley!” Mrs. Saint-Claire always pops the p in Pamela’s name, and spittle flies out of her mouth. How many times do I have to tell you!” Those skeletal hands jerk her shoulders back. “Back straight! Like a puppet on a string!” Pam’s so tired. She just wants to go home. Well, maybe not home. “And smile for once! It won’t kill you.” Mrs. Saint-Claire yanks her wild curls into a peppy poiny tail. “How are you going to win a man like this?”

“Pam-pam?” Harley’s looking back at her, her eyes still dark with want and pleasure, but her eyebrows are lifted in concern.

Maybe Ivy should hold back, more. What if she goes too far? But Harley would tell her. She’d say the word. She doesn’t pretend, not in bed, not unless that’s...well. Maybe it would be nice to pretend. A different time, perhaps. 

“I’m still here,” Pamela says more to herself than Harley, and she refreshes that vine until it’s erect and moving again. “Are you?” She coats the vine slick with oil, and she slips her fingers out completely. 

“Yes, yes, please.”

“Then take it.” The vine enters her slowly, filling her already stretched hole, pumping in tandem with the other in her cunt. And fuck it, Ivy reaches down and touches her own center, hissing at how sensitive she is already. 

“Yes, yes, yes!!” Harley’s always been loud in bed, but she’s never screamed like this. Ivy smirks, directing a third vine to mimic the motions on Harley’s clit that Ivy’s already doing to her own. And oh, Harley shakes, rattles, so full and so hung she can’t move, only ride the wave as the vines move in and out and around her. “Fuck yes.”

“Are you close, Harley?”

“Y-yeah….” And then her eyes shut, and her mouth forms a silent oh, and her body jerks, clenching around the vines.

“That’s my girl.” And Ivy brings her down slowly until Harley relaxes, and she pulls the vines away, untying her wrists and ankles and holding her close. “How’re you feeling, Harls?”

Her lover doesn’t answer at first, nestled against Ivy’s breast, her eyes distant and warm. “Thank you.” Harley nestles into her breast, breathing her in. “I feel amazing, as promised.” She giggles, and Ivy’s so busy laughing with her to notice the hand creeping towards her now naked legs. “Oooooo. What’s this?”

Ivy gasps, unable to help her moan at Harley’s touch. “Harley, you don’t have to--”

“Jesus fuck, you’re wet. Why didn’ you say somethin’?” Harley toys with her, circling her engorged clit and playing with her labia.

Ivy can’t bring herself to her own defense, too focused on how nice Harley’s fingers feel. She squirms, gripping Harley’s shoulders. “Harley--”

“Shh. C’mere. Lemme return the favor.” And then Harley lays back on a newly formed flower bed. With strength Ivy didn’t think she’d have at this point; Harley pulls Ivy’s thighs towards her face. 

“You sure?”

“Isely you’ve gotta stop asking me that.” She tilts her head up, kissing the inside of Ivy’s thigh. “I love you. Of course, I’m sure.” Her lips drift toward Ivy’s center, half-cleaning up the mess they’ve made, half-making it worse. 

Biting her lip, Ivy swallows her gasps, trying to hold on. “Harl, I--” Oh. It’s like she’s never felt another’s mouth on her, though clearly Harley (among others) have been down more than she can count. 

“Shh,” Harley manages to say between long licks. She edges the tip of her tongue around her clit, drinking her in without drying her up. Fuck, she still has pleasure oil on her tongue. Not as strong as at first, but Ivy doesn’t need that strength. 

Maybe that’s what love is. Trust that the other person won’t let you fall when you step too far off the ledge. Someone to hold your hand when you do fall, so you can fall down together. Someone to pick you back up. “Harley, I need--oh.” Ivy groans.

“‘S okay, Ives. Ride me.”

Ivy doesn’t need to be told twice. She grinds down, not so hard as to smother Harley, but enough to feel her mouth that much more. Oh god, fuck, she’s sucking her clit and--

When Ivy comes to, she’s lying on her side, with Harley playing the big spoon. “Holy shit, Harley,” she says, her mouth dry as cotton. 

“Your turn,” Harley shoves the water bottle in her face, and Ivy drinks it dry. “Not bad, eh?”

“Not bad at all.”