#cherry's mumbling about sailor

[ophelia-jones]

Swan song

Chapter 7 - a sky full of Stars 

After the conversation with Maggie, Etta needed some air. She needed some space. She needed some time to think. But she couldn't just leave, so she did the next best thing.

"Etta?" she could hear Daryl looking for her in the yard, and she looked down at him from the rooftop. 

"Up top!" she called and waved when he looked straight up at her in disbelief. 

"What the hell… How'd you even get up there?" he called, squinting up into the twilight.

"Climbed out the window, then up onto the roof here. Come on up," she called, then retreated to her place beside the cupola.  

A few moments later she could hear as he climbed out a window, onto the overhang above the porch and began assessing the best way to get up onto the roof from there.

"Something wrong with you…" he was mumbling. Etta smiled to herself and listened as he hoisted himself up onto the window frame and finally joined her on the rooftop.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" he asked, standing directly over where she lay with her hands behind her head and her feet crossed at the ankles. 

"I needed a little peace and quiet. Plus, you can't beat the view," she said, gesturing up into the evening sky as the sunset faded and it turned from blue to lavender on its journey to nighttime. He gazed up, open-mouthed as if confused as to what exactly he was supposed to be seeing.

"Don't you ever take the time to look at the sky?" she asked, leaning up on her elbows and craning her neck to look up at him.

"I don't know, I guess. To see if it's gonna rain," he replied with a shrug.

Etta patted the blanket she had brought out to lie on. Daryl seemed to find the idea a little silly but only paused a moment before sitting next to her, his knees drawn up to his chest, his forearms resting on his knees.

"When I was little, seven, I think; the state took me away from my mom and I went to live with my gramps. Her father. He had been married to another woman when grandma got preggo with mom so he wasn't in her life much. He did try, but that's a whole other story." Etta told him as they both looked up at the sky fading to steel blue.  The moon was whole and bright and the stars were starting to appear.

"He felt bad about it, I guess, and when CPS found him he agreed to take me in. He had a nice house on Lake Superior. We would sit on the beach - it wasn't like a big sandy warm beach, it was just a rocky strip surrounded by pine trees - but it was Heaven to me."

"My favorite was when we'd go out at night, we'd have to bundle up because even in July the chill from the lake made it cold at night. Plus the mosquitos were always thick there. Gramps would point out the constellations. He was a mariner for 35 years on a great lakes freighter. A captain for 5 of those. I swear he has been a sailor in all his past lives, the way he loved the water and the stars." she couldn't help but smile at his memory.

"Sounds like a good guy," Daryl said, shooting Etta a glance from the corner of his eye. "So what went wrong?"

"Why do you assume something went wrong?" Etta asked quietly, laying flat on her back and looking up at him. Daryl grunted slightly and shrugged his shoulders.

"Cause it always does, for people like us," he replied, looking at his hands and picking at a scab. Etta smiled softly, it was a bittersweet smile. Bitter because he wasn't wrong, but sweet because he considered her to be like himself. Us.

"Hunting accident," she told him. "He fell out of a tree stand and never came home. I was going on 11. My mom convinced the court that she had cleaned up her act and wanted me back. Within six months she and her boyfriend were cooking meth."

"Then when I was 13 she started getting jealous, thought I was trying to steal her boyfriend.  To be fair to her, he was all over me, but I sure as hell wasn't inviting it. What 13-year-old girl looks at a 40-year-old meth head and thinks, now that's the guy I want to pop my cherry!" she paused for a long moment to collect her thoughts.

"By the time I was 14, I was couch surfing or sleeping rough behind the school or in the park. Cops would catch me and take me back to mom's, I'd last a week, tops." 

"She gives you those scars?" Daryl asked, glancing at her but nervous to look at her directly. He didn't like anyone prying in his past, but she seemed to be ok sharing.

"Some of them, yeah. These," she said, rubbing the burn marks on her shoulder and neck. Others I did myself being an idiot. This one on my arm I got running from the cops, climbing over a chain link fence." She smiled and added, "Fatass didn't stand a chance. Somehow he was too blind to track me down even though I was bleeding like a stuck pig."

Daryl snorted in shared derision at the cop's ineptitude.

"You're a real badass, huh?" he said, letting his eyes linger a little more now.

"Just a survivor. Like you." she smiled at him reaching up from where she lay to rub his back gently through his shirt. 

"I had a brother, at least, growing up. Merle." Daryl told her, lighting up a cigarette. "He was an ass hole, but we had each other's backs. Least that was how I saw it back then. After the fire, after my mom… Well, we might as well have lost both of my parents. It was always the two of us against everybody."

"Gone now, huh?"

"Yeah. Just another person I failed," he mumbled, eyes looking at his booted feet.

"That is some serious bullshit," Etta said, sitting up to be by his side. "You know whose safety you're responsible for? You, sir, are responsible for taking care of Daryl Dixon. That's it. I know you want to save people, Daryl… and that's so admirable, you should want to help. But they made the decisions that led them to where they were when they died. You can't control what Glenn or Merle did to end up dead. You are sure as shit didn't have any say in Negan's decision to kill anyone. You can't hold yourself responsible for all of the shit that happens." 

Daryl remained silent, head down and his arms resting on his knee.

"I haven't had an abundance of people in my life who I loved and who loved me back, and I have lost most of them.  I spent a lot of time thinking, if I had found my gramps sooner or if I had just seen the shooter that killed Lana, it would have been so simple to save them.  But I had to put all that guilt and blame down, it was too much. Shit happens. It's done, no changing it. Hell, I don't even blame my mom anymore, because all that did was keep me carrying all that hurt around with me. I was making it worse." 

"It ain't that easy," he growled at her. 

"I never said it was easy." She rested her head on his strong shoulder and wrapped her arm around him.

"We are all going to die, sooner or later. When I go, I'm not going to have any regrets. I'd bet my last thought won't be I wish I had done this or not done that. It will be I wish I could see one more sky full of stars. Just like this one. This, right here, is what all the fighting for our survival is about. Moments like this. And no one, alive or dead, would begrudge you enjoying them."

"Y'know what?" Daryl said, wrapping his massive around her and looking down into her big brown eyes finally, "You talk too much," he told her with a soft smile. 

"Then why don't you shut me up, Daryl Dixon?" she grinned and angled her face up to his, her eyes begging for a kiss. 

"That's a good idea," he murmured, leaning down to meet her mouth with his own. There was nothing tentative about this kiss - he was all in, now. It was gentle, though, slow and very sensual. That tongue of his and how he employed it was beyond Etta's wildest imaginings. She melted like a chocolate bar on a dashboard. In Texas. In August. 

When his hands slid up under her shirt and started tugging at her bra, looking for the catch, Etta pulled back from his kiss and told him, breathlessly, 

"It's in the front!" amusement in her voice made Daryl frown at her and grumble,

"I'd've figured it out."

Etta smiled and undid the snap for him, closing her eyes and arching into his touch when he covered her breasts with both hands.

"I fucking love your hands," she sighed, the sensation of his weathered, calloused skin against the smooth softness made all of her senses buzz, especially when he ran them across her peaked nipples. She shuddered pleasantly.

"My hands fucking love your tits," Daryl breathed into her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth before moving to her throat. 

"You have a filthy mouth!" Etta said eyes closed, accepting his touch hungrily. "I love it." she smiled as she ran her hands through his hair. He giggled against her throat and Etta's heart - any shred of resistance to falling in love that had remained - was lost to her. She had never been in love, but this was exactly how she thought it must feel. Her heart was all his, she was all his.

When he tugged at the bottom of her shirt she drew back to look in his eyes, more than a little surprised.

"Out here? Are you sure?" she asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Why not?" he growled, leaning in to taste her skin again. "Who's going to see us up here?" 

"What if someone comes up to the cupola to check for someone approaching?" she asked, eyeing the small, lighthouse-like addition to the building. It was like the top of a lighthouse, with windows all around so one could survey the entire area surrounding the hilltop for threats.

"Then I guess they'll get more than one full moon tonight," he told her with a smirk. "I want to see you and those stars all at once." 

Etta felt like she might float away, she was filled with so many emotions - and hormones - she wanted to never leave this moment, to never stop touching this man.  She felt soft inside - suddenly she understood the phrases 'mushy' and 'swept away'. They weren't just words, but actual physical feelings. 

"C'mere," he said, his hand in her hair, pulling her firmly down toward him. He guided her to lay on the blanket beside him and made quick work of removing every stretch of clothing she wore, and when he was down to just his pants, Etta caught his hands in her own and shooed them away. She wanted to do this part. 

He lay on his back and lifted his hips for her as she pulled them off his hips and down his legs. Once she had tossed them aside, she knelt between his legs and lowered her head, her long black hair brushing his thighs.

The noise he made shot straight through her and lit a fire low in her belly.  She looked up at him, his head back and his eyes closed softly.

"I thought you wanted to look at the stars, Daryl?" she teased, knowing he could feel her breath on the tip of his cock because it jumped and swelled when she spoke. He growled in frustration and looked down at her. Etta touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of his hard-on and he groaned so desperately she feared someone might hear. Maybe they'd just assume it was an animal, she hoped. 

She slowly took the length of him in, sliding all the way to her tonsils and relaxing her throat as best she could. His hands grabbed handfuls of her hair and he began lifting his hips, his hands guiding her head in counter to the motion of his hips. He didn't last long, but that was probably for the best, with the noises he was making. 

His chest was heaving as she sat up and wiped her mouth, swallowing discretely behind her hand. 

"Oh, Jesus, c'mere, c'mere…" he said sitting up and gesturing with both hands for her to come closer so he could wrap himself around her. She was engulfed in his massive embrace. She kissed his muscular shoulder lightly and rested her head on it, and he kissed the top of her head. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I? Didn't pull your hair too hard?" he asked, still out of breath. Etta laughed softly and shook her head, but didn't lift it. She liked being held like this. She had her arms around him, below his armpits, her hands rested against the slightly sweaty bare skin of his back. 

"No, you didn't hurt me," she laughed at the thought that he'd been less concerned last night and that had been far more aggressive.  She lifted her head to look in his pretty blue eyes now. 

"You don't have to worry about hurting me, Daryl. I promise. I'll tell you once if something hurts and if you do it again I'll kick your ass for it." she smiled broadly and earned a genuine grin in return from him. 

"Same goes the other way, too. If I ask for more, I mean it," she whispered seductively, tracing his lower lip with one fingertip. 

"Yes, Ma'am," he breathed, rubbing his calloused hands along her naked back. He guided her to lay on the blanket with him, Etta on her back and Daryl on his side, resting on one elbow.

"Can I just touch you?" he asked, running his fingers along her skin adoringly, raising goosebumps everywhere. Etta sighed and arched into his touch, staring up at the moon and the stars as he explored every inch of her, head to torso, then down to her calves and up along her thighs. Her heart was racing by the time he slipped his fingers inside of her, first one, then another. He rested his head on his outstretched arm now and let his forehead rest against hers. Their noses touched, and she could feel his eyelashes against her own. 

He touched her so slowly, with long, deep strokes that soon had her lifting her hips to meet the motion of his hand.

"More," she breathed against his lips, and his touch became firmer, his fingers pressed deeper.  "More," she soon said again, her voice growing urgent. Again he obliged, sliding three rough fingers inside of her slippery, swollen cunt. Harder strokes, until she had her legs splayed wide and her hips and ass lifted off the blanket to receive each thrust. 

When Daryl removed his hand she groaned in disappointment. But he reached up and took one of her hands in his and rested it right above her clit.

"Show me," he said. "Show me where, show me how.'' The rush of liquid heat that flooded her at his words alone was nearly enough. She licked her lips and nodded her head and dipped her fingers between the folds around the sensitive nub. Gently at first, and then when she opened her eyes and saw him watching her hand with such lust, such passion in his eyes, she was rubbing harder, pulling upward, her legs opening more as she grew closer to her climax. When Daryl slid two fingers back into her as deep as they would go it was like pulling the trigger on a gun.

"Oh, God, Daryl… I'm coming! I'm coming," she whimpered.

"I can feel it," he whispered in her ear, feeling the way she closed her legs around his hand and the rolling waves of spasming muscle in her hot wet cunt. He was breathing nearly as hard as Etta. Her legs twitched and shook as she came down from that peak. 

"Oh my God," she breathed, rolling over so Daryl would spoon against her for a while. He wrapped one massive arm around her and pressed the length off his body up against her own. 

"Well, you definitely made me see stars," she giggled, she could feel Daryl's chest shake slightly as he laughed at her. 

***************************** 

"I swear to God, Tara, I think there is a raccoon or something out there!" Edith was saying, trying to convince Tara to open the window and chase away whatever was out there. 

Suddenly, the window slid open from the outside, and both of them screamed. Tara drew her pistol and Edith looked for something to use as a weapon.

"Hey! Put the gun down," Daryl griped at the women as he appeared through the window.

"What the hell were you doing out there?!" Tara demanded to know. "Hunting another possum?"

"Funny." Daryl scoffed. "and mind yet own damn business."

"Fine!" Tara threw her hands up at him. She shook her head as she left the room. After a long awkward minute, Edith followed her. Daryl gestured out the window for Etta to come inside. The two were on their way down the grand staircase when Maggie found them. 

"I'll show you guys to the rooms you can use tonight," she told them, leading them down the other hall. Once she was gone, Etta looked at Daryl and grinned.

"So, your room or mine?" she asked.

[italoniponic]

This is probably the last little ramble I've got in me for a while, but I'm excited about it none the less!!!

Also, I never write these things out. I get the idea, let it simmer in my head, and then I eventually tell someone- usually you. 😂 So I hope that explains why my asks are always so long and rambly. Thank you for reading them! 🎉💛

So... let's say that Crowley discovers that MC cannot be sent home. Now, I've had a few scenarios about this.

One in which Crowley decides that the easiest thing to do is make sure that MC gets married to a lucky student after graduation so she's taken care of- I'll tell you about that one someday if I can find a way to condense it so it isn't so long. It was a fanfiction that I tried to write, but Tumblr ate it.

Another scenario I thought about for this, is Crowley gives MC some students for Ramshackle. Mainly misfits from other dorms, because Ramshackle is basically the Hufflepuff of NRC. This idea caused me to make 6 OCs... what is wrong with me. Anyways, because Crowley thinks "maybe she won't be so lonely!", like these students are puppies or something... but chaos ensues. Chaotic, but I love the OCs I made for this idea.

The last idea I had- and the one I wanted to tell you about, was Crowley feeling bad for MC and allowing her to choose any of the 7 dorms for her and Grim to officially join. I have seen a few Tumblr users play with this idea and I love it. But in my scenario for it, Crowley doesn't tell the MC what he's doing, at first. Instead, he simply sends her and Grim to stay with each dorm for one week, stating that Ramshackle is uninhabitable and needs repairs. He decides that she can choose after being with each dorm for an equal amount of time. She has no idea what is really happening. Grim *does* know, and he's been bribed to keep his mouth shut.

ALL of the other students know, and the teachers too. But Crowley specifically tells the dorm leaders they nor their students are allowed to tell MC about why she's truly staying with them, and they definitely aren't allowed to act any different or try and make their dorm more enticing. Meaning no parties, special events, perks or presents, etc. MC must be treated as every other student... of course, nobody listens to the rules... except for maybe Riddle- but he finds a way to throw MC her very own unbirthday party anyways.

Remember the part where I said Grim knows but was bribed to not tell MC? Yeah, he uses the situation to his advantage. Because it's a known fact to everyone else that Grim is aware of what is truly happening, and everyone knows how much MC loves her cat-monster partner. So basically, happy Grim = happy MC. And happy MC = MC joining their dorm. So Grim manages to get everything he wants.

Staying in Heartsabyul: "Wow Ace, that tart looks so yummy... by chance, would you like to "share" it with me?"

Staying in Scarabia: "You know, Kalim... I bet MC would be so happy if I had a golden collar... hint hint."

Staying in Diasomnia: "That's a nice cloak you got there, Malleus."

Grim would 100% stare each student dead in the eyes and and smirk the entire time he was asking for something. Cue eye-twitch from the victim. Everyone is desperate to get MC to join their dorm so they basically comply with every request Grim has. At some point Grim freakin' cons Azul out of his own damn glasses! And when asked why he did it, Grim simply shrugs and says "because I could."

By the end of their tour of the seven dorms, Grim has a whole stash of treasure and MC is elated over the time spent with her friends. The various dorms all wait impatiently to see who she's chosen. And each dorm head is fairly confident that she has chosen his dorm.

Crowley tells MC the truth about his plans, and then asks her to choose what dorm she'd like to live in.

Cue MC smiling brightly and saying "I'm happy here at Ramshackle! I'd like to stay here."

(Also I just saw in your pinned post that you said you liked Sailor Moon and BNHA. Who are your favorite characters? I love those shows!)

- Swimmy

Swimmy-my-my-my~ all the love to your ideas, its one better than the other lmao I'm always honored that of all people you could chose to share this ideas with, you keep choosing me

(keep doing the good work, Swimmy my angel <3)

(I decided to copy the first two ideas so its easy to get it)

"One in which Crowley decides that the easiest thing to do is make sure that MC gets married to a lucky student after graduation so she's taken care of- I'll tell you about that one someday if I can find a way to condense it so it isn't so long. It was a fanfiction that I tried to write, but Tumblr ate it."

oh, so this was the fic you talked about </3 I really hope you try again someday bc I already think is amazing! I could think all the ways each boy could be up to the task but it will got sooo long bc I can emerge in the prospects of future au/married life a lot lol

but like... if you ever need help with that... pls... let's go on a rabbit hole about the whole competition + the married life hcs together <3

"Another scenario I thought about for this, is Crowley gives MC some students for Ramshackle. Mainly misfits from other dorms, because Ramshackle is basically the Hufflepuff of NRC. This idea caused me to make 6 OCs… what is wrong with me. Anyways, because Crowley thinks "maybe she won't be so lonely!", like these students are puppies or something… but chaos ensues. Chaotic, but I love the OCs I made for this idea."

SWIMMY OCS AAAAAA I really want to know all of them! Really, really, really! I never thought about this... but yeah, Ramshackle having this Hufflepuff vibes of "we will just throw all the secondary and not so important characters here" </3 not anymore, Crowley! you can regret this idea but MC sure won't

"The last idea I had- and the one I wanted to tell you about, was Crowley feeling bad for MC and allowing her to choose any of the 7 dorms for her and Grim to officially join. I have seen a few Tumblr users play with this idea and I love it. But in my scenario for it, Crowley doesn't tell the MC what he's doing, at first. Instead, he simply sends her and Grim to stay with each dorm for one week, stating that Ramshackle is uninhabitable and needs repairs. He decides that she can choose after being with each dorm for an equal amount of time. She has no idea what is really happening. Grim does know, and he's been bribed to keep his mouth shut."

You can already see that this isn't going to end well (for everyone who isn't Grim ofc lmao) sneaky Crowley~ even sneakier Grim~~

The whole thing of Grim blackmailing the dorms to get nice things, these people fighting over how to make the dorm more comfy and good so MC can stay there, then everything backfires bc MC enjoys Ramshackle dorm with all its imperfections and qualities, the ghosts and ofc Grim <3

everyone like:

(Azul needed to buy new glasses, Jamil can't believe Kalim spent so much on a golden collar, Ace misses his cherry tart, Malleus is still sulking over his taken cloak, Leona eying Grim bc he ate all his special beefs and other meats they brought for lunch all for this little shit of a racoon or whatever Ruggie I'm going to sleep, Epel watching everyone in Pomefiore having a meltdown bc they brought the most expensive silk cat-house/bed for Grim and he wanted that change dorms would be so easy for him, Idia dead bc he'll need to walk off of Ignihyde just to pet Grim instead of having him just there)

I had a similar idea to this but it wasn't about changing dorms, but still has the thing that everyone does their best to impress MC and convinces her that "oh this one (points at boy) is a good option". Maybe in the future, this idea will see the light too :')

and talking about Sailor Moon and bnha!

SM: my favorite characters are Hotaru (Sailor Saturn), Makoto (Sailor Jupiter), Minako (Sailor Venus), Rei (Sailor Mars), Helios and Mamoru (Tuxedo Mask) <3

BNHA: Kirishima, Ochako, Tsuyu, Tokoyami, Iida, Aizawa, the Big3, Camie, Momo and there's so much more but these are the ones that poped into my mind now <3

later tell me your favorites too, okay? again, thanks for another lovely ask, Swimmy <333

[bubblyhoney]

soundtrack

warnings: sailor language, suggestive themes/mentions of sex, drinking, nicotine use, being tipsy/intoxicated. no graphic or explicit nsfw content besides basically tonguing and giving hickeys and an ass grab.

tags: karl jacobs x fem!reader

words: 1898

A/N: i wrote this thinking that both people in this fic are of drinking age; i’m not, but i thought it would be a cool idea. i can assume many adult gatherings feature alcohol, so yeah. drinking isn’t integral to the plot of this fic. also it is pre-(or post)pandemic bc it’s just a general rule of thumb to not have parties right now.

-

“Don’t, kill, me,” Karl warbles, setting down his bottle with a sigh. Freaks plays loud and tinny on the TV, album cover bathing those occupying the couch in a grayish light. Those occupants being just you and Karl. The room is lit with purple string lights and that one thrifted lamp with frogs on the shade he’d sworn was the best purchase he’s ever made. You’re sprawled out on the other half of the sofa, ankles crossed and a can of vodka seltzer swaying in your hand. The song changes to 20 Min by Lil Uzi and your foot bounces to the beat.

“What time is it?” You sigh, placing the nearly-empty can onto the coffee table next to your apple berry-flavored pen. He flicks his wrist towards his face.

“2:46,” he delivers, and takes a swig of the Angry Orchard in his hand. His sixth, specifically. The rest of the group had left roughly ten minutes ago, leaving the two loneliest people to drink alone. You, thoroughly tipsy, decided it was better to spend the night on his spare than pay $50 for an Uber. He agreed, of course. Why wouldn’t he?

Lifting onto your elbows, you just stare at him. He lifts an ankle to cross over the other and your eyes drop. What is his fascination with Spongebob socks?

“We should play 20 questions.”

“What?” His head swivels like a bobblehead and a giggle barely escapes your lips.

“20 questions!” You say excitedly, heaving onto your knees to look at him earnestly. “You go first.”

“Um, okay.” The song fades into Paper Planes and he bobs his head to the beat. “What’s your favorite breed of dog?”

“Shiba inu. Are you a virgin?”

The fucking tone of your voice makes him dissolve into giggles, hand pressed to his chest. You just shrug, reaching for the pen in the table. “Fair question, I think,” you say defensively. His chest heaves, but he sits up.

“No—no, I’m not a virgin.” His cheeks are red, but he’s smiling like it was an easy answer. Your mind floods with images of his long hair in your face, long fingers—a sweaty chest. You shake your head. “Okay, my turn,” he continues, giving you a weird look. “would you rather kiss Chucky Cheese or Ronald McDonald?”

“Karl!” You whine. “That is not how 20 Questions works!” You grumpily pull from your pen, blowing the smoke out of the side of your mouth. Eughk. Apple berry sucks.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. The tell-tale guitar chords of The Adults Are Talking floods the room and his face brightens with a new question. “Have you ever been to a concert?”

“Yes, actually. The Jonas Brothers in 2009.” He wrinkles his nose, finishing his cider and dropping it onto the coffee table with a sharp noise. Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you dare badmouth my boys.”

“Wasn’t gonna!” He reaches for your pen and you give it to him with a slight pout on your lips that he glances at.

“Good. Where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” A grin climbs your lips.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His eyes widen and smoke curls out of his nostrils as he hands your pen back. You just shrug and pick up your discarded seltzer. “Gimme a sec to think.”

“So many places?” You tease, finishing the last drop of your drink and crushing it beneath your palm. He shrugs, mirroring you, and cracks open another cider. He seems to think, brows furrowing, as he pulls a swig from the dark bottle.

“Boat.”

“Boat,” you repeat.

“Yup.” He looks at you, gaze flickering to your lips imperceptibly fast. If you were sober you’d probably notice, but you’re not and you don’t.

“You’ve fucked on a boat?” No way. Karl Jacobs. On a boat. Having sex. What an image—

“Yeah, senior year was great for me.” More Than A Woman fills the space of the silence as you consider this. You blink, processing.

“Whose boat?” You're genuinely curious. Was it a yacht, pontoon, fishing boat? Row boat? The sudden scene of him getting his foot stuck in a fishing net while pantless clouds your vision.

“My girlfriend’s.” And that’s that on that because he’s moving on before you can open your mouth and continue the discussion of the logistics of this. “Stop investigating, perv. Now it’s my turn. Hmm— wait! Where is the weirdest place you have had sex?” A sneaky grin is on his lips and now you just want to kiss him, damn it.

“I-Uh. I think it was under the bleachers. I also had a great senior year,” you offer, scooting forward on your knees so that you’re only a foot from Karl. He looks impressed, actually.

“Who was it?”

Your eyebrow raises in question.

“Personal question or one of the 16 left, Karl?”

His cheeks heat and he looks once to the TV.

“Personal,” he mutters into the mouth of his bottle.

“It was Brian Hernandez,” you sigh, gazing off into the distance with a fond look in your eyes. You feel the end of the game of 20 questions as you see him chew on his bottom lip from your peripheral. “Dude was insatiable. Managed girls’ basketball and looked damn good doing it.”

“I managed girls’ soccer,” he says simply, uncrossing his legs. “My girlfriend was goalie.”

“How long did you guys date?” You fold your legs up underneath you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You feel the most sober now out of all tonight.

“Dunno.” He sips at his cider. “Couple weeks maybe?”

You smirk. “Karl Jacobs puts out in the first couple weeks?” That’s hot, you don’t say. He gives you a look. “18 year old Karl was a player,” you tease, leaning forward to poke at his chest.

Smacking your hand away, he sighs and lifts a hand to tousle his hair.

“Guess he was.” Clear eyes meet yours and you take a hit from the pen that lays discarded in your palm. He watches the smoke float from your mouth. The TV screen swipes to Deceptacon and the mood quickly shifts. “So.” He turns toward you with lifted eyebrows. “You were a total nerd in highschool, huh.”

Your jaw drops. “I was not!”

“Come on; yes, you were.” He makes a face and drains half the bottle of cider. “You probably were in SpellBowl and every teacher’s pet.”

“Nice try, bitch. You were a dumb jock. I’ve seen the pictures. The yearbook pictures.” You look pointedly at his hair.

“My hair was not that bad.”

“Yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he grumbles and pushes his hand through his long curls. “Just a little… short.” It’s your turn to make a face.

“A buzz cut nearly to your scalp is more than short.” He huffs at you and finishes the cider just as the song switches. “Anyways.” You don’t really have anything to say, actually. Too busy thinking about teenage Karl smacking tennis rackets around and fielding lost soccer balls for his girlfriend. She’s long gone, right?

“Are you wearing lingerie?” Karl asks suddenly and you look up. He stares pointedly at your chest and you move a hand to pat at your stomach.

“Oh,” you start, and flick the last three buttons open, fabric falling to reveal a baby blue lace corset. “Yeah.” He can’t seem to stop imagining what’s underneath it. Fuck. “Do you like it?” The tone in your voice is taunting and he has to look away.

He clears his throat and places the second glass bottle onto the coffee table.

“Yes.”

You rise onto your knees and pull your arms out of the button-up, letting it fall back on the couch.

“Do you want to touch it?” You're looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, he realizes, and you know exactly what you’re doing. You’re not asking if he wants to touch the corset; you’re asking if he wants to touch you.

“Can I?” He glances at you warily. You just nod, and it’s then that you’re shuffling forward. The material is soft on his fingertips when he brushes a hand across your torso. “Silk,” he mumbles, and stares, transfixed, at the loopy flower pattern crawling across your waist in shades of milky blue. You just hum and watch. He realizes suddenly when he traces a finger up on the ridge of the neckline that you’re not wearing anything underneath it. It makes him stop in his tracks, neck flushing. “Are-are you—,”

“Wearing a bra? No, I’m not.” You lay a hand on his shoulder, hoisting one leg over his thighs and settling down comfortable on his lap. He bristles then relaxes as you slide a hand up into his scalp. “Do you want me to show you?”

He glares at you, barely annoyed, and shifts so that his large hands rest in the curve of your waist. Poison starts in the speakers as his eyebrow raises.

“Do you normally wear corsets when we all hang out?” A lock of your hair moves past your cheek as he brushes it out of the way. His mouth tilts into a smirk. You seem to think about it, lips pursed, and grip both his shoulders in your hands.

“Only when I’ve got someone to impress.” A hand on your lower back presses insistently and you fall further into his lap.

“Who are you here to impress, Y/N?” He’s barely an inch from your mouth now, and can’t seem to keep his eyes on one part of your face. Cool breath fans onto your cheeks and they warm. God, he’s even cuter up close.

“You,” barely passes your lips before he’s taking the side of your neck into his hand and stretching to connect your lips with his own.

Cherry, you think. Cherry chapstick, that cheeky bastard. Taking your wrist in his hand, he loops it up and around his neck. You’re making a noise into his mouth, you realize, right as he’s sliding a hand down to the side of your thigh and gripping it between his long fingers. You shiver as he pulls away too soon, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth before sinking his teeth into your neck. The gasp that leaves your mouth is surprisingly loud and your cheeks flush further. He just hums, pleased, and stretches an arm to the opposite side of your waist to hug you closer. Warm lips move on the skin of your neck and his tongue darts out few and far between the kisses.

“Fuck,” he breathes when your hips jerk forward once.

“Sorry,” you whisper up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut. “reflex.”

He grins against your neck and moves to grip an ass cheek in his palm.

“Your reflex to me licking a hickey is to grind into my crotch?” he teases. You just have to nod, lips parted, as he soothes another bruise with his tongue.

“Karl.” He seems to either not hear you or ignore you for he’s removing himself from your neck and connecting your mouths once more. “Karl,” you stutter between kisses, and he squeezes at your ass.

“Yes?” His lips are bitten and puffy when he pulls away, a smug look on his beautiful face.

“Take off my corset.”

He looks between your face and the lingerie, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comment what you think !

[cupidhaos]

desk buddies

pairing: bambam x female reader

word count: 2.3k

genre: fluff, slight angst, slice of life

summary: bambam would soon come to realize, that his ‘annoying desk buddy’ would be one of the most important people in his life

warnings: none

a/n: i was listening to cherry by rina sawayama when i was writing this and that fact is honestly not relevant to the fic at all i just wanted to tell everyone that they should listen to it too

[part of my What is Love? series]

for most of his life, bambam kept his circle close. he never thought that he needed anyone else other than yugyeom in his life. the two boys had known each other since they were young - being the other’s first friend and all. all throughout elementary school, he had never found it necessary to reach out to anybody else. i mean he and yugyeom had each other - why would he need anyone else?

“you know - you should try to make friends other than me.” yugyeom told him one day on their way from school. it was only a couple more months until they would start middle school.

bambam frowned from where he walked by his best friend “why? if i have you then why would i need anybody else?”

it was yugyeom’s turn to frown “isn’t it better to have someone other than me though?”

the other boy just huffed in response “it’s not like you’re making any effort in making other friends either. besides, everyone else is irrelevant anyways. i don’t need any other friends if they’re just going to leave in the end and go off with someone else.”

the frown on yugyeom’s face deepens as the two of them walk in silence for a while. “i mean… that’s true… but you know i’m not good with making friends! at least you can talk to others.” yugyeom speaks up after time passes. bambam just rolls his eyes at him.

“if i have you then there’s no point in needing anybody else.”

the first day of middle school, bambam felt his world stop. him and yugyeom - for the first time since they have met each other, were now in different classes.

“i know it sucks bam, but it can’t be helped” yugyeom tells his friend who continues to stare at the sheet of paper listing their classes in disbelief. bambam didn’t know how to respond back as he just continued to look at the paper as if it were going to change the harder he stared.

before he knew it - he was sitting in his class filled with unfamiliar faces. he wondered how yugyeom was doing and was dreading the rest of the school year as he stared out of the window - an uninterested look on his face that made everyone avoid going near him.

‘see yugyeom. this is exactly why i don’t reach out and try to make friends. everyone here is all fake and irrelevant anyways. none of them even want to look my way and they’re all avoiding me anyways. who needs anyone else-’

bambam’s angry inner monologue came to a stop as he heard movement coming from the seat next to his. he looks up to see a girl setting up her materials and putting her stationary into the desk next to his. his eyes drift to a familiar wand-like pen peeking out of her pencil pouch.

“... sailor moon?” he accidentally slips out. the girl follows his gaze towards her pen and her eyes widen. she hurriedly shoves the pen back into her pencil pouch as her face visibly reddens. “what? no! haha i’ve never watched sailor moon in my entire life i have no idea who that is at all and it’s not like i’m a fan that i’d buy her merch or anything what? i mean - why are you peeking in my desk!”

bambam watches her ramble on with a confused look on his face. he had no idea why she was talking to him and why she was even defending herself in the first place.

‘wait - why was she accusing me?’

a frown takes up bambam’s face as he met her eyes. “i wasn’t peeking in your desk! you sit right next to me it’s in my vision!”

“well maybe you should keep your eyes on your own desk!”

an offended scoff leaves bambam’s lips at the comment. who the hell does this girl think she is?

“well maybe you should have better taste in anime!” “excuse me?!”

“you heard me! sailor moon sucks! she can’t even beat naruto!”

a loud and offended noise leaves her lips once she hears the comment. she clenches her fist angrily, neither of them noticing the attention of the classroom slowly being shifted towards them.

“not true at all! sailor moon can beat naruto’s ass in seconds!”

“nuh-uh!”

“yuh-huh!”

“y/n! bambam! is there a reason the two of you are arguing in class right now?”

the pair both turned towards their teacher with wide eyes before pointing an accusing finger at the other.

“she started it!”

“he started it!”

that was how the two of them were sent into the hallway on the first day of middle school. the two classmates stand on opposite sides of the hallway as they sit against the wall with their hands above their heads.

bambam looks over towards the supposed ‘y/n’ who sits there with a pout on her lips he feels. a tinge of guilt in his chest as he looked at her.

‘maybe i should apologize…’

“... naruto is still better than sailor moon” he mumbles.

and that was how they got into another argument for the second time that day.

after their first encounter - the two would get into arguments daily. since they were also desk partners, it was inevitable for them not to find something to fight about. whether it was y/n’s eraser shavings accidentally finding its way onto bambam’s desk - or it was bambam’s elbow accidentally bumping into y/n while she was writing, the two always found a reason to fight with the other.

over time though, arguments had turned more into friendly banter and teasing. y/n even began greeting him outside of class instead of the typical death glare that the two would share with each other if they saw the other during passing periods.

“you’ve been acting different” yugyeom says one day as the two were hanging out at his house. bambam looks up from his homework with a confused expression on his face “different? how?”

yugyeom just shrugs as he continues writing out the math problem on his worksheet. “i don’t know - you seem much happier and you’re even more talkative.”

bambam feels his eyes widen at his best friend’s observation. “i… have?”

the other boy just nods as he looks up at him with a mischievous smile “you have, is it because of that girl you’re always talking to in the hall?”

bambam feels his entire face heat up at the question and gives yugyeom an incredulous look. “what?! ew! y/n?! that’s so gross like i’d ever like her!”

the smirk on yugyeom’s face just grows at his friend’s response “i never asked if you liked her”

seconds later bambam has yugyeom in a headlock as yugyeom laughs loudly at his best friend’s behavior.

after that comment, bambam tried his best to shake off the happy feeling he got when he was around y/n. the two of them weren’t friends - he didn’t want to be her friend, was what he continuously tried to convince himself. it even came to the point where he tried his best to ignore her and isolate himself from the other.

another day passes by as he did his best to ignore y/n. but y/n was never one to back down easily.

“psst… bambam…!” she whispers from where she sat next to him. bambam just ignores her though as he continues on with doing his work. y/n pouts at the lack of reaction before trying again. after being ignored a second time she gives up.

bambam sighs in relief internally as he realized she was probably thinking of giving up of attempts to be her friend.

‘i’m really not surprised. this is how it usually turns out.’

seconds later though - a folded piece of paper makes its way onto his notebook. bambam stops what he’s writing and slowly turns to look at y/n with an unamused look on his face. y/n is turned away from him though as she looks into the other direction. her eyes slowly go to look at him and she gestures at the folded paper with her head. with a tired sigh, bambam opens up the folded paper to read the contents inside.

stop ignoring me >:(

was what was written in the paper. bambam rolls his eyes and y/n watches from her side view as he writes something down. he folds the paper back up and slides it over to her desk.

i’m not ignoring you. why do you even care.

bambam could hear her huff angrily and the sound of rapid writing next to him. the paper is then thrown back onto his desk.

um maybe because i’m your friend STUPID -_-

his eyes widened at the message. she considered him… a friend?

i never said we were friends. now stop bothering me.

okay well too bad because we’re friends now so tell me why you’re ignoring me

we are not friends. i hate you go away.

oh so you’re the tsundere type ~ well that sucks because i’m not going anywhere! ^u^

just leave me alone!!

`3` you’re so cruel T__T but fine, i’ll leave you alone for now - bestie ;P

bambam turns away from y/n as he reads the last message, he can hear snickering from behind him though as his face begins to turn red. the paper is quickly snatched out of his hands though before he could even respond. he turns around to face y/n but pauses once he finally gets a good look at her.

y/n looks at him with a playful smile as she teasingly waves the note at him. it was like the light around her glowed as bambam looked towards her and he felt a warm feeling rise up in his chest.

‘did she always glow like that?’ he wondered. the moment was cut short though as the note is quickly snatched from y/n’s hand. the two look up at their teacher who gave the two of them an unamused look.

“passing notes in the middle of class y/n? you as well bambam?” 

and that was how they both ended up out in the hallway for a second time. its quiet between the two of them as they sit against the wall with their arms above their heads.

“listen… i understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, i get it” bambam quietly tells y/n as they both sit at a distance from each other in the hallway. y/n looks up a him and gives him a confused expression “huh? what are you talking about?” “i’ve been ignoring you and i said some pretty mean things to you… it’s okay if you don’t want to talk anymore i wouldn’t be that surprised. i’m used to not having many friends.” he adds on. its quiet again before y/n breaks the silence with her loud laughter.

bambam turns to look at y/n with the same confused look that she had just moments ago. “are you mocking me now?” he asks her, annoyance was hinted at his tone. y/n just shakes her head at his question though before turning to meet his eyes.

“i swear i’m not i just - i knew that yugyeom said you weren’t used to having friends but i didn’t know he meant it” y/n explains in between her laughs. bambam gives y/n a horrified look “how do you know yugyeom?!”

y/n’s laughter stops as she stops to think back. “hmm i met him a couple of days ago through mingyu since they’re in the same class. he came over to gyu’s the same time that i was there and he told me he was your friend” she explains. the look of terror doesn’t leave bambam’s face the more he heard y/n speak “what?! what did he say to you?!”

she just responds with a mischievous look on her face as she sends him a playful wink “that’s a secret”. all bambam could do was groan in response as the two people he didn’t want interacting had already met each other without him even knowing.

“he explained to me how you didn’t like making friends since you ‘didn’t need anyone else other than him’ or something like that.” y/n adds on and bambam turns away from his classmate in embarrassment “yeah! what about it! friends are irrelevant! they could just leave you at any time they want anyways.”

she just nods in understanding at his words “i mean, yeah thats true and all but isn’t it kinda lonely? besides - theres no harm in making any friends anyways. if they leave then they leave and then you can grow from it. but then again you also have to give people the benefit of the doubt from time to time you know”

his eyes widen at her words and he looks back up at her. y/n stares back at him with a small smile on her face which just causes thirteen year old bambam to blush even harder.

“it sucks being alone - don’t you think?”

and it was in that moment, bambam realized that she was someone he didn’t want to let go of anytime soon. it was because of her words, that he had came to the realization that he was just trying to convince himself by saying he didn’t want to let people in.

“yeah… it does”

just like that - it was like a switch inside of bambam had flipped. from wanting nothing to do with anyone else other than yugyeom, he now craved for friends and social interaction with others.

from feeling like he was in a dark room all by himself - he now felt as if the door to that room was opened, and it was all because of her. he wanted to keep staying by her side, he didn’t want her to leave.

moments of love masterlist

[degeneratekitten]

The reeducation of a King

!!!WARNING!!! Read the tags before continuing. If any of the tags upset you then you probably wont like it when it happens in the story.

This story was one of the first asks I got, I started it, but never finished, so here we go.

The woman in front of you looked incredibly tired. She had bags under her eyes, her skin was pale, and she looked like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Truthfully you had yet to even inform her that the King Lamia she had rescued off the street was classified more as a hunting type bitty. She’d been under the assumption, like many people who came to you with rescues, that all bitties could be kept like pets.

“So he’s gotten possessive of you, and he started trying to control your life?” You questioned making sure that you’d gotten her story straight.

“Yes!” She sighed, looking almost on the verge of tears. “I had to slip tranquilizers in his food so I could come here! He goes absolutely berserk if I leave his sight for even a moment, and he refuses to let me decide where we go!” She cried, soundly more and more like an abused spouse than a distraught pet owner. To be fair, this was an abusive relationship, one you would be more than willing to remedy. “He also always tries to tell me what kind of underwear I should wear and gets mad when I don't wear them!”

“That's very troubling.” You nodded, before inquiring about an important question. “How was it that he got so much control over you?”

The woman opened her mouth to answer only to snap her mouth shut again in a frown. She didn't seem to have an answer.

“I… I can't remember…” She mused, before continuing. “I guess I didn't realize it at first, but over time he just got worse and worse, and somehow he convinced me that it would all be ok if I did this, or that. He started getting threatening, baring his teeth whenever I even suggested doing something he didn't want. I was afraid he’d somehow escape his cage at night and kill me, so I just did what he wanted. I figured this was just a part of rescuing bitties. It wasn't until last week when he started to demand I stop seeing my mother that I realized how weird everything was. He’s a pet, not a boyfriend, and I won’t be controlled by a pet!” She stated, seeming to come to a firm resolution in her own mind.

You nodded at her. “I see, so I think I know how this all started. “ You smiled, giving the woman a look that seemed to calm her down.

“What?” She asked, fully invested in what you were going to say.

“You see, bitties are separated into two different types, ones that are pets, and others that are meant for more, violent situations. Lamia’s with venom are generally meant to be either guards, or exterminators. Your King is the former. His breed was designed to protect an owner, staying vigilant for all threats both physical and mental. Where this all went wrong is because your King was born and bred in the wild, where a lot of the original designs and personalities of bitties have changed.” The woman looked incredibly interested in what you were saying. Fully invested and curious, you loved customers like this.

“So his idea of protection involves being controlling?” She asked just waiting for you to elaborate.

“Yes and no. His ideas about protection are skewed more in favor of breeding. If he has a partner he has to hide them away so they can't get taken by another bitty or human. He has to provide everything for them then, food, shelter, warmth, stimulation, everything. The problem with a lot of bitties in recent generations is that their predisposition to be reliant on humans still applies even when they’re experiencing sexual urges. They expect and crave for their human owners to satisfy them sexually alongside everything else.” You watched as the woman's face twisted in disgust.

“Wait, so you’re saying that hes trying to fuck me?” She yelled, grossed out and shivered slightly. 

“In short, yes, he wants to fuck you.” You deadpanned watching as the woman hugged herself.

“That's so messed up!” She exclaimed, which made you chuckle.

“I agree, but magic is weird, and magical constructs with origins like bitties are even weirder. But anyways, there is a way to fix this. A way to uncross his wires so to say, and make him desire other bitties rather than you. Which in turn should ease a lot of the behavior towards you. After I do that he should be more receptive to my traditional training in learning how to act more in line with the original king lamia’s.” You finished, watching as relief seemed to wash over the woman.

“So what needs to be done to uncross those wires?” She asked, to which you chuckled. 

“Get him a mate.” You stated watching as the woman seemed to balk a little at how simple your answer was.

“Wait! It's that simple?! I could have done that myself.” She asked sitting up straight, shocked and a little giddy at the prospect. You laughed with her.

“Well, kind of, unfortunately if you get involved in the process and give him a new mate, he’d take it as a sign that he needs to fight the other bitty to mate with you. It’s better to let a third party do the introduction.”

“Oh… Well, if it gets him to stop wanting to fuck me I’m more than willing.” She smiled, seeming to realize that a huge weight was being lifted from her shoulder.

“So when can we start?” She added, looking at you with hope.

“Well first we have to pick out a new mate.”

-----

You’d gone over potential mates and your rates with the woman for the rest of the visit. You’d mentioned that a cherry would probably be best for the King, as they were incredibly meek and in need of the amount of attention that this particular King was ready to give, plus they weren't lamia so the chance of breeding while already small, was nearly impossible. The woman was excited over the idea, as she wanted a pet who was easier to cuddle with as opposed to her King who she had to keep far away from her sleeping arrangements. 

You’d made sure to explain fully to her why although she had the best of intentions, King’s were not traditionally pets, and she needed to treat him accordingly. She could keep him as part of her family and give him a better home off the streets, but she needed to be careful not to let him take charge of her life anymore as next time he probably would kill her. She ended up taking this to heart, nodding her head as you led her to the door. 

“I’ll make sure I read more on how I’m supposed to handle him.” She promised, leaving in her car. You’d set a date for that weekend to go and pick up the King, you needed a few days to get a suitable cherry and set up an area in which you could do everything that needed to be done.

---

Meeting the King in question, Moriarty, as he had aptly named himself, was an occasion that was sure to be violent. You had a thick jumpsuit on, with extra layers covering your arms and legs, combat boots your husband had bought you just for these situations, and heavy duty handling gloves on so he couldn’t bite you. You had some safety goggles on as well in case he tried to spit at you, and even your neck was covered by a long collar from your jumpsuit. You didn't take any chances with violent venomous lamia’s especially ones who had reason to believe that you were a threat. You’d nearly lost your brother that way when he’d insisted on trying to calm a venomous lamia without gear. He’d been in the hospital for two weeks and aptly served as yet another reminder that protection bitties were not to be taken lightly.

Your husband was dressed beside you in a similar getup, and he had insisted on taking at least one Squadron bitty with the two of you, said bitty was currently standing at military attention waiting for you to give him orders. He wore camo like most squadron bitties, with a black shirt, ripped off sleeves, a pair of smaller dog tags and miniature combat boots and a knife. He didn't have his ecto flesh summoned so his outfit was a little baggy. His dark green eyelights were focused on you, while his arms were situated behind his back.

You had planned to use magic if things got too bad, but it was always good to have a backup plan.

Squadrons were very similar to Edgies in terms of vocabulary and humor, the only real difference being that they were never overtly hostile to anyone outside of combat. They made dirty jokes all the time and cursed like sailors, but never called you cunt or assface unless they were set out to kill you.

“I’ll need you to stay outside until we give you a signal.” You said to the bitty, watching as he gave a toothsome grin and saluted you in response.

“Just gimmie da signal an I’ll rip em up ma'am.” He replied, forgoing his usual vulgar vocabulary in lieu of a more respectful tone. He gave you a nod as well to tell you not to worry about him and you turned towards your husband with a pleased expression.

“You said this is your best one so far? I’m impressed! He didn't even cuss at me!” You praised watching your husband's face light up.

“Yeah, he used to cuss more than the others but I straightened him out real quick, nothing a little friendly competition couldn't solve.”

Chuckling you turned your attention back towards the door again, and steeling yourself for the worst you knocked on the door. Hopefully she’d managed to tranquilize her king.

“Hello! We’re here today for Miss Shelby! We’re here to pick up the package like we discussed yesterday.

“*GASP* MOTHER! HOW DARE YOU! I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO OUTSIDE! YOU DISOBEYED ME!” You heard the loud, unmistakable shriek of the problematic bitty then a mumble in response before there was a loud crash and the shriek of a woman. Worried that maybe the King had gotten more violent, you tested the doorknob, relieved to find it unlocked.

“Hello, Miss Shelby! I’m coming in!” You shouted, before bursting into the home.

What you saw caused adrenaline to surge through you.

The king in question was wrapped tightly around Shelby’s arm, hood spread out,tail swishing agitated, and teeth bared. He was on the verge of attacking.

Looking at Shelby you could tell how nervous, how terrified she was as she stared at the King’s teeth. You noticed that a plate of noodles lay shattered on the floor.

“Oh thank god.” Shelby breathed out, relieved to see you.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE! BARGING IN HERE! MOTHER TELL THEM TO LEAVE!” The king hissed, moving itself so he was partially wrapped around Shelby’s neck, he had placed himself right next to Shelby’s ear with his teeth still bared and from what you could tell, his fangs were already secreting venom. He was very ready to bite.

“M-m-m-mori! She’s a guest, I invited her over for dinner!” Shelby tried to explain, earning herself a shriek in the ear.

“I DIDN'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR THAT! WE AREN'T ACCEPTING COMPANY! TELL HER TO LEAVE!” Moriarty screeched, tail seeming to tighten around her neck.

Shelby moved to try and loosen the tail only to earn a menacing hiss from the king, your eyes widened a bit as you tried to think of the best course of action. 

Moving towards her would probably cause him to tighten his grip, talking could yield good results but with how agitated he was it would probably only buy you time before he bit her. Maybe if you challenged him he would take the bait, but you couldn't do that if you wanted him to respond to you in training.

Suddenly you were incredibly glad that your husband had insisted on bringing a squadron bitty. The king would probably never see it again, and it would leave you in a neutral position from which to train the king.

You clicked your tongue at the king, not making any sudden movement, he hissed at the sound, and seemed to be hyper focused on you, before its attention snapped to the door, as a bulked up squadron bitty stormed in.

“The fuck is this cunt ordering ya round for!?” The squadron bitty bellowed, he was still minimal size, but you yourself knew better than to underestimate him.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS! LEAVE MY TERRITORY AT ONCE INSOLENT CRETIN!” The King hissed, attention snapping to the other bitty.

Shaking your head, you looked at the little squadron bitty and gave a firm order. “Nothing crazy.” You stated, watching as he frowned in displeasure.

“Fuckin fine. Yer not a lot a fun are ya.” He stated as he stepped forward, chest puffing out as he readied himself for a fight.

“FIGHT ME BITCH!” He screeched out simply at the king, using the most direct way in which to challenge the king.

Taking the bait immediately, the King slithered down in front of his owner, hood spread, and fangs dripping poison. You took a step back, and whispered at Shelby to slowly back away.

There wasn't much of a fight, the King lunged and ended up shot by a tranquilizer as the Squadron bitty jumped out of the way for your husband to get a clear shot of the King’s hood. 

You’d had these instant magic tranquilizers well before the pure bite incident, but they simply did not work on large bitties, they were meant for smaller bitties, and were tested extensively to work instantly said bitties. 

There was no need for an actual fight, and really the simplest solutions were generally the best. You nodded at the Squadron bitty, as he immediately made to restrain the King bitty and brought him over to you, where you put a special muzzle on its skull. After which the squadron dragged it by the tail to a pre-prepared cage.

Having completed your business, you turned towards Shelby, noticing how shocked she seemed. It wasn't uncommon, people tended to be shocked when the people, or “pets” in this instance, that had been tormenting them were taken down. You took the lead, grabbing a shock blanket that you had also, prepared ahead of time and wrapping it around her.

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” You asked, as you secretly examined her for any bites or cuts. Luckily the only injuries she had were bruises from where the king had squeezed her arm too tightly.

Shelby nodded dumbly at you, before grabbing her phone and scanning her finger to unlock it. “Could you… Call my mother… I was too scared to have her over before.” She said, then plopping down in a nearby seat.

You nodded at her. “I’ll wait with you until she gets here.” You said, before pressing the call button on the phone.

---

The very first step in rehabilitating the King wasn’t to immediately jump into training. It was a little different from that. You’d brought your client over after she’d calmed down in order for her to pick out one of the Cherries you’d set aside for the King. You’d set aside 5 of them, not that it really made much of a difference as they were all crying at the prospect of meeting someone new. Most bitties were identical, luckily there were” some notable differences between these cherries, mutations weren’t always bad.

The customer came in, and almost immediately grimaced at the crying Cherries. You’d warned her that they were high maintenance pets, but also assured her that with a King around a lot of the more intolerable aspects would almost certainly be enjoyed by the King.

She did however warm up to the Cherries after a little play time, and after finding out that one of the Cherries enjoyed eating literally ANYTHING, she picked that one in a heartbeat. She stated that she loved cooking new things and someone to enjoy new things with was something she struggled with.

After that she bonded for a short while, she left, she had wanted to hear the cherry say “mommy” before leaving but you insisted that that was a TERRIBLE idea.

After she left, you shoved a heat inducing gummy down a screaming Cherries throat and quite literally threw him into the pen with the King. If you heard hysterical pleas for help, and screams to “shut up slut.” You ignored them, that would sort itself out naturally.

---

You monitored the situation between the King and Cherry loosely. It went exactly as you expected it to. The King violently fucked the Cherry, while the Cherry simultaneously cried for more and pleaded for it to stop at the same time. 

By the end of the week long fuck fest there were no more pleas for stopping, only begging for more. Until finally, the King had firmly marked the Cherry as its own, and was holding it close and whispering as sweet of compliments as it could muster. The Cherry was crying, as usual, but at the offer of food it had accepted the King as its mate. 

You waited another week, allowing the King to thoroughly fuss over the Cherry and fuck away its excess of aggression, before entering the pen. You entered with food, eyeing the King to make sure he didn't pounce. He has significantly calmed down, instead of hissing and threatening he stared at you warily while he held his wide eyed mate close. You set the food down, and nodded.

“I see you enjoy the mate I’ve prepared for you.” You stated, watching as the King’s head tilted to the side as he questioned the implications of that statement.

You left before he could question you. Letting the tranquilizers in the food take effect before you went to collect your newest project.

---

The King awoke in a cage alone while a hysterical Cherry cried as it reached out to him from a cage opposite of him.

You didn't have gloves on as you opened the cage of the Cherry, and you would never admit to smiling at the reaction of the King as you roughly handled the Cherry.

“RELEASSSSSSE MY MATE AT ONCE INSSSSSOLENT HUMAN!” He hissed, utterly incensed at the handling of his new mate. You shook your head, and placed the Cherry on a table, he cowered into your hand, hiding his face as he reached for his mate, but at the same time he still recognized you as a human to trust, you’d bottle fed him after all.

“Ppp-please I want to be with Mori.” He pleaded with you hugging your thumb as his tears colored the edge of his sockets.

You replied softly. “I know, but we have to correct some of his behavior first.” You replied as you shook him off.

He landed on his behind, more tears welling up in his eyes. Before you grabbed a shock collar, and placed it around the neck of the Cherry.

“What’s this’ moAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!” You wasted absolutely no time in shocking the Cherry, watching as its tears pooled on the table, and pissed soaked down its bare legs. The king had thoroughly destroyed any clothing that had been on the Cherry in its vigor. You could make out the small cuts on its form, the first few days had been incredibly rough in terms of sex, not enough to kill the Cherry, but certainly enough that you wondered why it wasnt terrified of the King.

The Cherry flopped on the table, while you looked at the King who’s hood was spread as he hissed, spit and thrashed about in his cage. It was bolted down so there was no way for him to tip it, but it was still quite the sight.

Nodding in satisfaction you placed the sobbing Cherry back in his cage across from the King, where he reached out desperately towards the Cherry intent on comfort, even if that wasn’t his strong suit.

“RELEASSSSE ME AT ONCCCCE! I MUSST COMFORT MY MATE!” He screeched at the same time trying to thrash his tail to strike out at you.

“No comfort will come to your Cherry until we have fixed your behaviors.” You hummed, as you pulled on thick arm coverings and gloves. You approached the King’s cage and unlatched it, grasping around the King’s throat as he attempted to bite your outstretched hand through the gloves. A calculated move in order to direct him as you pleased. 

You wrestled with the King for a while, rolling your eyes and smashing him against the table as he refused to loosen his bite. The King went limp for just a moment while you strapped him to the table with special restraints. His skull wasn't even cracked as you’d gone easy on him, it also helped that his breed was tougher than the pet variety. 

Being strapped down by his neck made the king easier to handle, even when he snapped out of his daze and began to thrash again, this time though without the threat of fangs. It was easy for you to pin down his tail and arms down long enough to strap them to the table. 

This was all just a show of force, to prove that she could do whatever she wanted to his mate, and he could do nothing about it. She needed him as violent as possible in response to threats to his mate, she needed him to stall in relation to his street taught values, if only so she could delete them.

You finished strapping him to the table, and picked up the remote to your mini shock collar, pausing for a moment and wondering if you should maybe start with pulling teeth first. However you needed a far more compliant King than you had currently, and it helped that the Cherry’s cries were beginning to grate on your nerves.

Looking over at the Cherry you sighed, it was still crying, smelly and pitiful as it cowered in the corner furthest from you and the King, too petrified of the violence to move. You waved the button in front of the king who hissed at the sight.

“DO NOT HARM MY MATE YOU WORTHLESSSSSS HUMAN!” He screeched, as you shook your head and pressed the button. As expected the sight of his mate in pain sent him into a frenzy, he spit, while you mocked him for his inability to do anything. You approached the cage of the Cherry intent on subduing the King in the most effective way possible.

“NOOOOOOO!” The King continued to screech. While the Cherry recovered from the shock cowered and begged for you not to hurt him. Of course, that wouldn't happen.

You carefully took the soiled Cherry out of his cage once more, and placed him next to the King, the King seemed to calm as the Cherry strained for its mate. You let them reunite for a moment, if only to grab a bitty sized dental gag and pry the King's mouth open. Once successful, despite the Cherry’s begging. You once more picked up the Cherry, and placed his hand into the King’s mouth, before carefully pricking him with the King’s fangs. 

The unholy screech of the King was nothing like the ones before. His venom was incredibly effective, and on a creature as small as the Cherry its effect was seen immediately. 

Pale faced and beginning to flush redder than normal, the Cherries tears became more frantic. He blubbered the same as normal as he tried to free himself from your grasp. Plopping him next to the King you pressed the button of the shock collar again and held. Looking the King straight in the eyes as it began to cry red tears. There was no understanding past the dental gag. But you knew well enough what was going on. A sinister smile graced your lips as you turned away from the king, taking the Cherry with you as you left the room. As far as the King knew, his mate was dead, dead by its own hand.

---

You returned shortly, having cured the Cherry from the King’s venom and stalled it in order to erase its memory of the training. Standard practice for once a bitty had been fully trained, the training would remain while the memory did not, no risk of blabbing to customers who really had no idea what was happening. It was necessary as while you trained the King the Cherry would bond with its new mother.

The King was still sobbing as you returned, and you used the lack of struggle to your advantage.

“It's a shame he had to die because of you.” You egged on, watching as the King seemed to deflate even further. You took that moment to put on your gloves and remove the restraints. The King didn't attack, and your smile was as venomous as the King as you removed the dental gag.

“WHY?” The King asked, and you couldn't help but chuckle, as you started to stroke its head soothingly, as you spit out harsh words. “That's because you are a bad bitty. A horrible protector.” The king flinched at that but immediately you turned it around. “But still so brave, and handsome.” Of course, the contrary information stilled the King, stalling him, and allowing you to reach for his AI, and stroke it. His eyelights buzzed a little, as you wiped away his need to monopolize his mate, his “charges.” There was of course more work to be done, but he would be too grief stricken to struggle. Just the way you needed him. You supposed it was about time to pull out some teeth.

---

By the time your bitty behavioral therapy was done, the King was a model example of a protection bitty. He was still a horribly bossy creature, but he no longer insisted on isolating his charges or displayed sexual desires outside of for his mate. He focused entirely on “protecting” and only grew violent when there was sufficient threat.

Meanwhile, the Cherry had not stopped crying for his mate until he met his new mother. He was of course still sad, but as most pet variety bitties are ought to do, the introduction of a new mommy or daddy tends to cheer them up instantly. Which was good, as the Chery, newly dubbed Sebastian, had sufficient time to bond with his new mother without the interference of a mate. The client learned easily to care for a Cherry, while also undergoing coaching from the rancher in order to be an effective King owner. 

On the day that the King was to return to his owners care. The owner had been nervous, she had lost confidence in owning bitties, and while Sebastian had helped, it still did not erase the nervousness she felt even after 2 months.

“I’m not sure about taking him back.” She stated, holding the Cherry close to her heart, he was as usual, teary eyed, but at the words of his owner, he burst into hysterics.

“Nooo!!! Mommy please I want Mori back! Please let me see Mori!” He begged, rubbing his snot covered face into her shirt. The owner seemed to deflate at this, and sighed, rubbing her Cherries back in reassurance. While you marveled at the fact that he was still suffering from some sort of stockholm syndrome.

“We’ll just have to see for now.” She said, and looked at you for reassurance. 

“You really don't have to worry.” You replied, voice chipper. “He’s nothing like he was before, you’ll be safer with him now than you would be without. He’s a model King, the perfect guard for any home.” You made your way towards the back noting the wariness of your client, but you stood by what you said, Moriarty was a model King, with all the coaching you’d given Shelby there was no reason to worry anymore.

Making your way into the back you spotted Moriarty in his enclosure, he was sunning himself as you approached. There was no sign of pulled teeth, skinned tails, or broken bones anywhere on him, and he only flinched slightly at the sound of your voice.

“Your mothers ready to see you now.” You sang watching the King light up and practically shoot to your outstretched arm. He curled himself around your arm, vibrating with anticipation at the prospect of seeing his mother again. You hummed in satisfaction as you made your way back to where Shelby was waiting.

The Cherry fell to the floor as he threw himself out of his mothers arms, he fell with a thwack, chanting Mori as he ran to you. The King very nearly pounced at the Cherry, he had tears in his eyes and seemed shocked and elated to see his mate. Although the Cherry's supposed ‘death’ had been erased from his mind he still had thought his mate dead, thus the tears. Before he could rush to his mate you held your hand up. “Stop.” You commanded, preventing the King who was practically vibrating from going to his mate. He was restless and voiced his immense displeasure. “YOU MUST LET ME GO SEE IF MY MATE IS HARMED!” He practically screeched into your ear, but still stayed still, causing Shelby’s eyes to widen in shock. She would have never imagined that the previously unruly and violent King would become so obedient, even if he was still incredibly bossy.

The Cherry at your feet practically hugged your leg as he cried and pleaded for his mate to come to him, you stopped walking forward before your punted him across the room, and smiled warmly at Shelby even as Moriarty squirmed on your shoulders as he looked between his mate and his mother, frustration growing as he stayed put, as you were gesturing for him to.

The cries of the Cherry became background noise as you spoke to Shelby. “As you can see, he’s fully trained now. All you need to do is handle him like I taught you and he’ll respond appropriately.”

“YOU MUST LET ME DOWN NOW!” The king snapped, as he crossed his arms, still waiting for permission. Nothing could change his bossy tone, but he still could be trained to behave.

Your customer sputtered for a bit, before she seemed to snap out of it. “Oh… Um… Yes… Come here.” She said, and gestured with her hands as you’d taught her for her previously unruly King to come.

The response was instant, he practically lept from your arm, disregarding the Cherry, albeit patting him on the head as he passed, and basically leapt into the outstretched hand that his ‘mother’ had out for him. He practically purred at the contact with his ‘mother’, nuzzling her arm affectionately as he hugged her arm, shocking her while at the same time earning a smile.

“I AM VERY CROSS WITH YOU MOTHER! YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU!” The King stated, holding on firmly to his mothers arms as he stared longingly at the crying Cherry that was running and trying to climb up his mothers leg.

“I can see that.” She answered, smile wide and tears coloring the side of her eyes.

“NOW I MUST INSIST THAT WE COMFORT MY MATE!” He screeched, looking down at Sebastian with longing. Which in turn caused his owner to laugh and reach down to pick up the crying Cherry.

“There we go, the whole family’s together, Sebastian, Moriarty and mommy!” She cried, sniffling as Moriarty kissed the forehead of his crying mate.

“Thank you so much!” She cried, as she walked over to you and shook your hand. “I can’t believe how much he’s changed! Thank you! I can’t thank you enough!” 

Grinning ear to ear, you replied. “Really, it was my pleasure.”

[aloysiavirgata]

Hot prompt: Mulder washes Scully's back.

And also for @fashionbooksboozefeminism who asked about 40th birthdays on the run. NSFW

***

Night, cash, Sonia and James. Mulder leads her down the faded carpet and wood-paneled halls of the old Poconos resort, nearly empty nine days past Valentine’s. Everything they own that isn’t in their bag is in the car outside. They stop in front of room 314.

Scully, a bobbed brunette in yoga pants and a hoodie, slouches against the wall. “If this turns out to be a reboot of The Shining, Mulder, I’m going to be really pissed.”

He works the key into the scuffed lock. “The Haunted Murder package wasn’t in my budget, don’t worry.”

They head inside, Mulder shutting the door behind them. The room is a perfectly preserved 70’s time capsule, amber-hued with shag carpet and velour club chairs. There’s a zigzag bedspread and a macramé plant hanger with a dusty silk fern on it.

“Groovy.” Mulder sets their duffel on the floor.

“Wow,” Scully says, peering around. Her mother would have killed for this room back when she hosted fondue parties and wore hostess pajamas. “Mulder, I feel like I’m in high school again. I’m going to need some blue eyeshadow, then we can play a few rounds of Mystery Date.”

Mulder examines a small porcelain shepherdess on the lamp stand. “Forty is the new sixteen. Go look around the corner.”

Scully picks her way past the walnut dresser and a floral folding screen. A yelp of laughter escapes her. “Mulder!”

The tub is glossy and red, heart shaped, with veined mirrored walls behind. It’s piled with bubbles, steam rising from the surface. A bottle of something called Sham-Pagne sits on the tiled rim. Her chest squeezes at the thought of him putting this together. She’s been remote since the New Year, prickly and self-contained as a spore.

He appears behind her, grinning. “James. Only the classiest for you, Sonia.”

She sits on the ledge, pats the bubbles with curious fingers. “Champagne glasses would have been classy, James.”

Mulder studies the bottle. “It’s got a screw top, so I think this is more a red Solo cup affair. Or straight from the bottle.“

Their joys are very small these days and she clings to them. “It’s absolutely awful, I love it.”

Mulder, beaming, squeezes her shoulder. “Go ahead and get in, I wanted it all ready for you so you could relax right off the bat.”

Scully stands, her back to the large mirrors. She undresses quickly, trying not to catch her reflection in the small mirror over the sink. She doesn’t want to see her choppy dark hair, the purple smudges under her eyes, her sallow skin and WalMart lingerie. A year and nine months and each glance at her reflection feels like watching a Dana who dropped out of med school to follow a band or wait tables at a truck stop. But she can’t tell her not to do it, she can’t wish it all away, it’s just... she is not suited for life in the bardo.

She climbs over the wide ledge, into one of the curves of the heart, and lowers herself into the bath. The steaming water is decadent after so many cramped showers, and this immersion feels baptismal. Perhaps she can come out fully cleansed, grocery store dye gone, Aphrodite on a bed of foam. The bubbles come up past her chin, making her sneeze. 

Mulder sits next to her, opening the wine. “Oh, whoa, whoa, she's a lady,” he sings, holding the bottle like a microphone.

Scully scowls at him from the tub. “No need for that, thank you.”

“Tom Jones, Scully!”

She puffs bubbles at him, and they stick to his shirt. “Do you have any cups?”

“I was serious about the bottle, I think.” He passes it to her.

She takes a long swig. It’s sickly sweet and too fizzy. She could easily finish it herself. “Get in.”

He looks surprised. “Really?”

“It’s my birthday, you have to do what I say.” Another swallow.

He’s already undressing. “No, no, I don’t mind. I just figured you’d want to marinate alone.”

Mulder, never self conscious, has no concerns about the mirrors. He gets in the other bend of the heart and water overflows onto the carpet. “Oops.”

Scully, already buzzy, passes him the wine.

He takes a long drink, winces. “Good lord.”

“Mm,” she agrees, settling low in the water. It seeps up her chin length hair, making a sleek dark cap around her face.

Mulder puts the bottle down and fishes around in a wicker basket. He retrieves a pink pouf and a tiny bottle of cherry blossom body wash. “Scoot over here.”

She hunches into the corner. “No I’m comfable. ComFORTable.”

Mulder laughs. “How hard did you hit that bottle?” He reaches around to take her by the shoulders and pull her through the water until she’s settled between his knees like a cranky mermaid. He squeezes a pearly dollop of soap on the pouf and begins to wash her back.

“This is soapy water already,” she observes.

“Well, it so happens I just like touching you, so don’t be pedantic.”

She lets her head fall forward as he makes circles on her back, tries not to feel embarrassed about her bony spine and the furrowed landscape of her ribs. She hasn’t been this thin since the cancer hollowed her out, and she never let him see her this way back then.

Back then.

“Got you a little cake, it’s in the fridge,” Mulder says, like he can read her thoughts again.

“Maybe I’ll save you a piece,” she replies. She wants to be cheery for him, a brave little sailor. The body wash makes her think of spring in DC and she sniffs at it.

He drops the pouf to massage her slick skin with his hands. They’re a little calloused now from the kind of rough work he was never bred for. He works his thumbs beneath her scapulae and she wonders if he can unfurl them like wings, let her fly away.

She takes another gulp of wine. “Mulder.”

“Hmm?” His fingers knead her neck, each tight trapezius.

Scully turns in the water to face him, catches a flash of her reflection as she does. Her hair is kelpy, the heavy black eyeliner she wears now smudged about her eyes like Theda Bara.

She kneels between his bent knees. “Nothing.”

Mulder sighs. “I didn’t want it like this either.” He holds his arms out and she rests against his chest. The water sloshes gently around them as he enfolds her, his heart thrumming at her cheek. She imagines this is what the last moments in the womb are like.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into the wet dark of his body. “This is a really good present.”

His hands are skating over her back again with a washcloth this time. The texture feels good, centering her back into her bones. Sometimes she feels adrift from herself, dissociated, following her own body like a kite.

Mulder strokes her hair and she burrows her face up into his neck, her forearms pressed against his chest. She hopes he won’t sing Happy Birthday like he used to because it will undo her.

He doesn’t, just nuzzles in, whispering sweet nonsense into her ear. “I love you,” he says, in a voice like hot tea on a cold morning. He nibbles her unadorned earlobe.

Scully, who hasn’t wanted sex in over a month (or has it been two?), who has barely wanted to be touched, feels her body stirring. She turns her head, her earlobe chilled, and catches his lips with her own. She tugs at his longish hair, wanting to absorb him and his infinite love and his careworn soul. She nips his tongue.

His response against her thigh is instant and, bless him, he apologizes like a teenager on prom night. All this time and he’s still such a gentleman it might break her heart.

She pulls back, takes his face in her hands. How she loves his face, his autumn woods eyes and his mouth like a Botticelli angel. “Look at me,” she says.

He does, worry in his gaze. “Scully, it’s fine, I know y-“

“Shut up,” she says, with aching fondness. “Please shut up.” She thumbs his bottom lip.

He furrows his brow, uncertain.

Scully lets her legs float up off the bottom of the tub, twists so that she’s straddling his lap, her arms about his neck. “It’s my birthday. You have to do what I say.”

He swallows, still watching her. “As you wish.”

Scully tips her hips forward and he’s inside her, hot and hard and familiar.

Mulder’s eyes close and he murmurs some wordless hindbrain prayer.

There’s almost no leverage, but he’s holding her hips as she rotates them, groaning when she tightens her pelvic floor. She’s wrapped in warmth from the inside out, liquid heat, her breasts crushed to his chest. Water splashes to the floor.

Mulder slides his hands up so that his thumbs are at her waist, his fingers spanning her back. She sighs and leans into the brace of him, her chin tipped up.

He takes her left nipple into his mouth and her shoulders roll back, hands trailing in the water. She exhales hard through her nose. A memory comes to her, Mulder in the tub in Rhode Island, and she recalls even then the fierceness of the unnameable thing she felt for him. Love is such an inadequate word for this.

He’s slowly taken over their rhythm now, pulling her down harder, and she falls away into the dopamine surge. Panting now, belly dipping and rising. Tingling at her sacral spine.

Scully groans in disappointment when he turns his head from her breast. Her areola contracts in the cold, and Mulder runs a hand from her throat to the hot junction of their bodies. She is not long disappointed.

She sees then that he’s looking at the mirror wall, watching, and she’s afraid to do the same but cannot help her curiosity.

Her arched body is a full sail, held up by the mast of Mulder’s arm, rising and falling on an unquiet sea. Even with the glass veined and fogged she sees the slackness of desire in her mouth, her dilated eyes.

In the mirror, Mulder’s eyes are on hers, the face of a mystic in ecstasy. In the mirror she watches his jaw clench and his head roll back. Watches him grind his hips up into hers. He calls out to her god.

She’s dazed, visually overloaded. Scully leans forward to his neck again, biting at it as his fingers continue their steady work between her thighs. The hand that was on her back is on her ass now, and gripping hard.

“You liked watching,” he says at her temple and it isn’t a question, just an observation, but somehow the intimacy of him knowing it trips her over the edge. She’s lightning-struck after so long, her nerves overfiring, and she shudders back into his arms, gulping air.

He traces endless figure eights on her back, or maybe they’re infinity signs. He tells her about a raccoon he saw in the bakery parking lot, eating an entire raisin bread by itself. “It hissed at me when I got out of the car, Scully, and I don’t even like raisins.”

“You’re so brave,” she says. “Just to get my cake.”

“I’d fight a raccoon for you any day.”

When the water gets cold they emerge, ectoplasmic wafts of bubbles trailing behind them to the bed. They can shower later.

Scully, chilly now, wraps herself in the bedspread. She sits cross-legged on the bed like a wise old oracle. “Where’s my cake, please?”

Mulder opens the mini fridge and removes a perfect miniature birthday cake, sprinkles and fudge frosting and a vivid maraschino cherry. She might not save him a piece after all.

He brings her the cake and two plastic forks. A small white box.

“Mulder!” she exclaims. “I thought this was my present, I hope you didn’t really get me anything else.”

He sits next to her on the bed and rubs her back through the heavy comforter. Clears his throat. “It’s, um, it’s not from me, actually. I didn’t just run into a raccoon at the bakery.”

She looks at him in utter bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

“Open it.”

A strange fear creeps over her as she fumbles with the tape holding the lid on the box. Her fingers are clumsy, numb, but she gets it off at last. Inside is a cheap cell phone, a burner. There’s a Post-It stuck to the front.

“Many happy returns of the day, Scully.

- Walter Skinner”

[toodamnloyal]

Loopy and sleepy was right. When Baracus scooped up the broom even as Theodore was reaching for it, the sailor was left blinking and staring stupidly at the space where it had been only a moment before. He frowned and his brows crinkled before he turned and watched the towering figure delicately cleaning up his mess.

“Yes ma’am.” He answered Missus Porter when her words had a chance to sink in. “I couldn’t sleep. Erm…for several days, actually. He had been up and about during the day trying to make himself helpful during the daylight hours as well, and then having his nighttime carpentry excursions when sleep refused to come at night. Right now though, sleep in a proper bed sounded wonderful. There was a crick in his neck and soreness in his shoulders from the crumpled position wedged into the corner next to the stove.

He wearily allowed Templeton to lead him away out of the kitchen. Theodore briefly stumbled and almost fell into the table, then tripped on the first step when they came to the stairs. “Sorry.” He mumbled both times. It was slow going as he made his way up to the second floor and at the top of the stairs he paused a moment and sat down. “Maybe I’ll just sleep right here.” The fae heaved a sigh and tipped his head back against the railing. After a moment he cracked an eye open to peer at Templeton. “I know…I know. I’ll make it to the room. Just…need things to stop for a moment.” Getting up and moving was exhausting.

Theodore ran his hands through his hair and frowned because of the missing feathers that made the action feel weird. It itched and he sighed again then shoved back to his feet. “Y’know…if you find some good wood. Maybe…maybe cherry. I think Missus Porter needs a new cabinet. Did you see? All the fine dishes and she’s got them stacked on a shelf in the corner. Yeah.” He yawned.

Crazy Fool

continued from here

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

Warnings: Hopper being a c*p 🤢 [ACAB BABEY], mentions of animal death, very brief mentions of anxiety

**Y/H = your height, ex; short, tall etc H/C = hair color**

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Alrighty. One scoop of chocolate, that'll be buck twenty five."

Steve places the cone in the girl's hands, smirking to himself when her hands meet his. With a shy yet charming grin he mumbles a soft 'there you go' and suddenly her hand is no longer touching his. The brief physical contact didn't seem to mean quite what it meant to him, as she looked rather eager to get back to her day at the mall. But Steve still saw a fighting chance when he spotted the gold letters displayed across her sweatshirt.

"Ah, Perdue." His eyes light up in recognition, and he sends her a silly smile. "Fancy."

She smiles brightly and Steve's spirits lift. She nods, handing over the money and readjusts her purse. "Yeah. I'm excited."

"Ah, you know I considered it." Steve nods, fingers flying across the register. "Perdue, but then I was like, you know what?"

A light air of resolve falls over him and the across the counter begin to shift as uncomfortable smiles flit across their faces. The second even trying to wipe the amused expression off of her face at Steve's obvious attempts at her friend. A knowing look is then passed on between the pair as Steve continues, seemingly unaffected. 

"I really think I need some real life experience, ya know, before I hit college. See what it feels like to, kinda uh, like, I don't know," He shrugs with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach the girls who now boredly lick at their melting ice cream cones. "See what it's like to earn a working man's wage, you know and uh-"

The register he fiddles with decides his time is up, its circuits shorting out as they did every few weeks and stuck itself into one endless high pitched beep that cuts him off. Flustered, Steve attempts to save the conversation not before subduing the intrusive noise, as he mutters a quick apology.

"-I think that's really important, and uh,"

"Yeah, totally," She responds, choking back a pathetic laugh.

Rolling with the punches, Steve shrugs goofily still wearing his best smile.

"Yeah, anyways, this was like, so fun," he laughs, the nerves now overtaking him. "We should, like, I don't know, maybe hangout? Like this weekend or something-?"

Yet again, he is cut off as the change he intends to give her spill out of his hands and onto the counter.

"Oh, sorry about that," he fumbles as she begins collecting the scattered coins off the counter. "Uh, I don't know, maybe next weekend?"

"Uh, I'm busy." She laughs uncomfortably as she tucks the coins away into her purse.

"Oh, that's cool. And I'm-" Steve nods, scratching his head. "I'm working here next weekend so... the following weekend is probably better for me."

"Uh, no. I'm sorry, I can't."

Her friend begins to laugh into her ice cream and even she is biting back a smile as she hurriedly collects herself to leave and Steve nods.

"Okay," The girls chuckle to themselves as they make their leave for the door. "Thanks."

"I..." Steve stumbles, his voice awkwardly trailing off as they do. "This is my first day here, so..."

But they were already filing back out into the crowds, giggling between each other at his poor attempts. Not that he could blame them.

"And another one bites the dust."

He sighs heavily, head sagging over his shoulders before swiveling around to face the girl carrying a mischievous glint in her eye and that damned scoreboard. Scrawled across the top of the divided two sections; YOU SCORE, which remained completely blank, and YOU SUCK which carried a total of five--

"You are oh for," --now six. "six, Popeye."

Steve nods bitterly with his arms folded over his chest. "Yeah, yeah, I can count." He sighs.

"You know that means you suck."

Against all odds - and the bitter taste of annoyance on his tongue - Steve still finds a smile creeping up on his face, however forced.

"Yep, I can read, too."

The spark of mischief in her eyes is fueled like a small flame, and a cocky smile twists her lips. "Since when?"

"It's the stupid hat." Steve groans, ignoring her comment and saunters over to lean against the back counter. "I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature."

Robin tucks away the menu-turned-score board back against the wall before folding her arms on the counter, draping herself lazily in the back window.

"Yeah, company policy is a real drag." She drawls. "You know, it's a crazy idea but have you considered... telling the truth?"

"Oh, you mean, that I couldn't even get into Tech and my douchebag dad's trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour and I have no future? That truth?"

Robin's eyes drift past his shoulder and she quickly gestures. "Hey, twelve o'clock."

Steve's head whips over his shoulder to find a small parade of girls striding towards the counter, reigniting the nerves in his gut. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Okay... Uh..."

He turns back to Robin, his eyes darting across the counter as his mind races. Robin can practically hear the silent pep talk he's giving himself.

"I'm going in. Okay?" He says, more to himself than her. He nearly whips around to face them had it not been for the sudden hesitation brought on by a burst of confidence. "And you know what?"

He rips the tacky sailor's hat off his head pulling a curl loose that dangled on his forehead as he smirks. "Screw company policy."

Less than impressed, Robin doesn't even attempt to hide her boredom. "Oh, my god, you're a whole new man." She deadpans.

"Right?" He shakes his head around on his shoulders in a goofy manner as he backs away, drawing out a weak chuckle from the girl.

In one step he whirls himself around to face the small posse of girls at a frightening speed, even startling several gasps out of them.

"Ahoy ladies! Didn't see you there," he shouts, propping himself up on the counter with his arms. Several girls in the group watch him wide eyed and still a bit off put. "Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain. I'm Steve Harrington."

"Oh, god." The red head mutters to herself, exasperated as her friends begin to giggle.

"Can I get you guys a little taste of Cherries Jubilee? No? Anybody? Banana Boat? Four people, four spoons?"

Robin watches from the back room as the fire spreads, a wince overtaking her face as she steps back to her board, uncapping her pen as his boisterous voice echoes throughout the ice cream parlor.

"Sharing a booth? Anybody? It's hot out there."

Make that oh-for-seven.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"And I know this is a difficult conversation to have..."

Hopper's unsteady voice travels at a slow pace as he digests the words on the scrap of paper in his hands. His face is contorted in an uncomfortable grimace as he hears them leave his mouth but he tries to persist.

"but I hope you know that I care about you very much. And I know that you-"

"Eye contact-" Joyce softly reminds, from where sits opposite, her legs dangling off the empty pharmacy counter.

There's a brief lull in the station between songs before a familiar melody spills from the wire speakers in the corner of the store, Patsy Cline's She’s Got You. It's quiet and hard to hear but the lyrics still seep into Hopper's subconscious, briefly aiding his nerves in throwing his attention off course as he meets Joyce's deep brown eyes.

"And I know that... we both care about each other very much." Immediately he rejects the words coming off his tongue and shakes his head at her choice of words. "This does not sound like me at all."

"Just keep going. Come on." She reassures.

Hopper draws in a deep breath, clutching the makeshift script between his balled fists that were tucked nervously in between his knees. "Which is why I think it's important to establish these boundaries..."

He squints, straining against his anxieties to remember the words she had helped him brainstorm. "moving forward..." 

he sneaks a peak at the crumpled up paper in his hands, earning a soft chiding from Joyce who shakes her head.

"No looking. You know this. Come on."

Another deep inhale brings an uneasy look on Hopper's face as he shakes his head, tucking away the paper back in between his knees.

"so we can build an environment... uh... where we..."

Joyce silently watches with a series of encouraging nods, her hands gently waving like that of an orchestra conductor.

"all feel comfortable and trusted and open..."

Joyce nods once more, a light in her eyes as that silently encourages him. That puts him at ease. "'Share our feelings'..."

"...to sharing our feelings-- This isn't gonna work." He shakes his head, giving into the discomfort building all around him and he rises to his feet. "Um, it's not gonna work. It's not gonna work."

"Yes, it will!" She scolds. "I promise."

He shakes his head as he expels another patch of nerves, and joins her on the counter.

"Oh, come on." She pleads softly.

"Maybe I'll just kill Mike," he grunts sarcastically. "I'm the chief of police, I can cover it up." [👁👄👁]

Joyce gives his knuckles a reassuring pat before she sends him another encouraging smile. Even as he leans against the counter that she is currently hoisted onto, he still manages to tower over her. 

"You got this." She gives another reassuring squeeze, and Hopper feels like a cheesy bastard for noticing the timing of it all. The swelling of the music and the spark she left whenever their hands met in the past few months, but he didn’t mind. "I promise."

The music seems to grow louder around them, and she still hasn't taken her hand from his. He finds himself smiling down at her with that goofy smile he had been wearing a lot lately. It only seemed to make an appearance around her, and he knew this.

"I really don't know what I know,"

Joyce meets his eyes with a genuine look, something familiar brewing in both of their chests. And that scares her. Her mind returns to Bob and the grip of fear tightens around her heart as Hopper looks at her like that.

"You want to have dinner tonight?" He asks, finally breaking more than one kind of silence that lingered between them.

Her heart catches in her throat, and she looks away growing bashful. And uncertain. Joyce can still feel his eyes on her and as he grins down at her flustered expression.

"You can give me some more pointers."

"Oh, I... Um..." Her hand leaves his and settles on her knee, and she returns her gaze to him with an apologetic look swimming in her eyes. "Um, I... I have plans."

"Okay, sure." He smirks, much too enamored with the awkward smile that graced her face to be offended by her answer.

Another comfortable silence befalls them as they sit enjoying one another's company. But even this moment is short lived in the wake of the customer bell announcing a new visitor to the store. Joyce perks, gesturing excitedly to the front as she excuses herself.

"Oh, a customer." Breathlessly, she heaves herself off the counter and eagerly makes her way to the woman up front. "Hey, Carol!"

"Oh, hi, Joyce!" The woman beams as Joyce scurried across the store to meet her. "How are you? So good to see you."

Hopper watches the exchange from where Joyce had left him standing, his eyes locked on the woman who had so quickly and so sneakily became such a vital part of his life. It was only logical to him that this friend of hers, Carol was so happy to see her; Joyce had a way with everyone she met. Not a single person left her company without their day brightened. She knew how to make everyone feel welcomed, heard and loved.

"She's got you,"

Looking at her now, there was no denying it. Not anymore. Hopper wanted that for her, and he hoped more than anything he could be the one to give her that.

||𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The sun beats heavily down on my neck and shoulders the most, and I shiver every once in a while when I feel a bead of sweat fall down my skin. With a groan, I readjust the backpack on my shoulders and put all my energy into just keeping up with Max and Lucas and not on the burning sensation on my skin.

"This isn't fair," I pout. "Heat's my whole thing, I shouldn't be sweating like this."

"Well, good news is we're nearly there," Dustin assures, though I do not feel very comforted.

"Aren't we high enough?" Lucas asks, tugging at the large bag he was lugging over his shoulder.

"Cerebro works best at a hundred meters."

I groan up at the sky as I continue the hike up.

I began to hear spouts of quieted laughter from behind me but it's quickly cut off by Max's flat remark.

"I'm pretty sure people in Utah have telephones."

"Yeah, but Suzie's Mormon." Dustin replies.

"Oh shit." Lucas says surprised. "She doesn't have electricity?"

She's five or six steps ahead of me with her back turned and yet I can still make out Max's eye roll. "Oh, that's the Amish." She corrects tiredly.

"Mormans are super religious white people," Dustin begins. "They have electricity and cars and stuff but since I'm not Mormon, her parents would never approve. It's all a bit... shakespearean."

"Shakespearean?" Max indulges, a smirk in her voice.

"Yeah," Dustin answers, puffing his chest out a little. "Star crossed lovers."

"Right."

"Well, regardless Dustin," I begin, sharing a smile with Will. "I can't wait to be introduced."

I see Dustin perk up even more, and my smile grows. "Yeah?" He asks hopefully.

"Yeah!" I answer. "I wanna be a good sister. Can't wait to repay you for being so cool with me and Will, ya know?"

"Guys?"

I bite back a laugh but my smile is still triumphant. Dustin stops in his tracks, the others stopping as well seeming more than relieved. When Dustin turns to look at me, his face is hardened completely in a threatening glare.

"If you do or even say anything, I swear I will-"

"GUYS!"

Me and Dustin break away from our small fight and everyone turns to find Mike and El several feet down the hill. They're standing hand in hand and sending us all weak apologetic smiles and I feel my heart sink.

"This was fun and all, but uh..." Mike trails off, tapping his watch obnoxiously.

"I have to get home." El finished.

All mischief I was previously feeling with Dustin vanished, quickly replaced by guilt as I stole a quick glance at his saddened expression and the duo before us.

"We're almost there!" He says, completely bewildered and I can hear the hurt in his voice.

"Sorry man," Mike says, not sounding very sorry at all. "Curfew."

He starts to back away down the hill and he takes El's hand and whispers something to her that I don't catch.

El sent us all a warm look, as if nothing was wrong and for the first time I was upset to see her smile.

"Good luck," she says, before following on Mike's heels with an elated giggle.

I stare after them, my eyes burning holes in their backs and my hands no doubt burning holes in my pockets if I wasn't careful enough.

"Curfew at four?" Dustin asks, finally catching on to the majority of our summer without him.

"They're lying." Lucas huffs.

I see Will shrug angrily next to me. "It's been like this all summer."

"It's romantic," Max offers but even she doesn't sound so convinced.

"It's gross."

I shake my head, letting out a short sigh.

"It's... not healthy." Another flicker of anger attacked me suddenly, and I looked at all my friends bewildered before my glare landed back on the retreating couple. "And what the hell happened to 'friends don't lie'?"

"I don't know but it's bullshit." Dustin replies, his voice sad and filled with disappointment. "I just got home."

I look back over my shoulder and give my brother a sympathetic smile but I know it won't fix anything.

"I'm sorry Dustin. I really didn't think they would do it this time. They seemed so excited for you to come home."

He meets my eye and nods. If I look close enough I can see him rebuilding himself.

"Whatever... They're loss, right?" He smiled at us all and gestured to the hilltop behind us. "Onwards and upwards."

He takes off for the hill at unnatural speeds for our condition and cheers excitedly into the air. "Suzie awaits!"

Well shit, more climbing.

I groan, head landing on Will's shoulder in a tired pout. My voice isn't alone for as soon as I do I hear Max and Lucas throw back similar whines at the remaining trek ahead.

By the time I pick my head up off of Will's shoulder, everyone else is already several steps ahead. I sigh, ripping my stiffened and tired legs from where they rooted into the ground and start after them. Readjusting the backpack over my shoulder, my eyes drill into the top of the hill- the finish line - as I push ahead.

"Think they'll carry me if I fake a leg injury?" I chuckle to Will under my breath.

There's a small silence aside from the distant giggling of El and Mike as they descend the hill and the panting of the others as they run out of breath from the climb above us. I look to my right where Will was previously, only to find him several steps behind me. His back was turned to me and he was nervously clutching the bag of wires he had been carrying.

I took a few cautious steps towards him, my heart pounding for reasons I did not understand.

"Will?"

He scrambles back, jumping from one foot to the other as if dancing on hot coals and it looks as if he sees something in the grass.

"What, what is it? Will!"

He snaps out of his trance, turning to me wide eyed and now several steps closer to me. I quickly bridge the gap to stand by his side, searching his eyes carefully. He casts one last lingering glance out onto the grass where he was previously standing before meeting my eyes. There was something he was holding back, something deeply uncertain in the way he held himself and I got a sinking feeling in my gut.

A sinking feeling not unlike the night I found him outside the arcade. Anger quickly bubbles to the surface at the thought of something else getting him, and without a second thought I take his hand in mine.

He seems to relax a great deal at my touch, and he looks greatly reassured and instantly so am I.

He was still Will.

There was a silence that hung between us as he put on a smile for me. It was far from genuine, that I knew and the only thing it reassured me of was the fact that something definitely scared him.

Will looks past my shoulders, and gestures. "Come on, we better catch up. We've got some revenge to enact." Another forced laugh is let loose and he starts off after them.

Tries to at least, but he's pulled to a stop when I don't move an inch, my hand still tethered to his. He stops, looking back at me curiously.

"Will, you know you can tell me anything right?" I see a flicker of fear in his eyes. "I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. And so are your friends. Well,"

I laugh bitterly.

"you know what I mean."

Will presses his lips into a flat smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and nods a little too eagerly.

"I know," he reassures. "I promise."

One final flicker of fear flashes in his eyes as he seems to purge it from his system, quickly replacing it with a bright and happy expression. He tugs gently on our interlocked hands and gestures up the hill.

"Now... you ready to meet Dustin's first girlfriend?" He asks with a growing smirk.

I shake my head as a small laugh bubbles up despite the anxiety brewing fresh in my stomach. It still lingers in the back of my mind, but slowly boils down to a simmer, melting away as I meet the now genuine smile of Will's and I find myself giving in to the temptation of blissful ignorance. My legs begin carrying me to his side and quickly we start pacing up the hill with matching grins.

He might be able to tempt me with the offer of getting back at Dustin for now, but there's still a thought - a feeling - burning in the back of my mind. Something is definitely up with Will. The problem is, I don't know what and even worse, I don't think he knows either.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The endless parade of rats dart through the overgrown blades of grass, blending perfectly into the summer breeze passing through their surroundings. An undeniable instinct draws them onward to Brimborne Steel Works as sure as it set their skin ablaze in a horrendous flameless fire that ignited their insides just from their path even mingling with the Y/H, H/C girl who lingered nearby. Even a slight change in direction of the breeze had given them, the hosts, a feeling similar to standing atop a fresh layer of cooling magma that sent them scurrying off their path and was even strong enough to send pins and needles in the heels of their masters previous host.

They don't know their master, of course, or what a master is or why they have blended colonies. All they do know is the unceasing pull in their gut to follow orders. Orders to scavenge the unscavengable, feed on the inedible, and flee, flee... Flee.

And now hundreds of them scurry across the dying grass surrounding the abandoned steel works where they soon disappear inside. The wearhouse floor comes alive as hundreds more file in from every nook and cranny that can possibly be found. Their speed is fast enough to create its own gentle breeze that sweeps away several stray leaves that have collected on the concrete over the years as they head for a single steel stairway.

The enclosed space is soon overflowing with a sea of rats that create a symphony of pitter patter as their tiny feet scuttle down the metal staircase and into the deep lake of shadows that sat under the wearhouse. The only light that found its way down in the depths of Brimborne was the skylight leaking in from the doorway that illuminated the only possible clue to the sudden phenomenon;

Scattered across piles of glistening pink and red jelly were the hundreds of rats that had found their way home. The new home promised to them by the seemingly never ending pull in their gut. But the pull had mysteriously stopped when they reached the basement. But the presence of something dark and sinister remained.

The driving force - the pull - had not vanished but had instead morphed into a warm buzzing that grew intensely worse. It grew hotter and hotter, shaking their small bodies harder and harder as it spread to every cell at unnatural speeds that crippled them. They twitched and squealed in discomfort as they fell to the floor, their last cries for help before erupting into the very goo that they laid in.

The basement was filled with pop after sickening pop as the rats exploded into nothing, all of them and their remains glistening in the single beam of light just outside of the realm of shadows that held the true monster.

This monster that had poisoned Hawkins before. This monster that had spread its rot and death, and inevitable decay with everything it touched. However...

This was not the return of the Shadow Monster.

For the Shadow Monster had never left.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · All links are provided in the comments might not be accessible via the app BUT should work on the mobile website and desktop website. Please use them. Possible Warnings to black readers, and any other readers of color who might be triggered I have included several petitions to save POC facing the death penalty. However, first, here is the masterlist of black mental health resources if you need them. I've posted it many times but mental health is so important, and getting treated properly by people who truly understand you and your experiences can make all the difference, im sure. All my love 💓

Black Mental Health Carrd



[picture text id: there are other people on death row who can still be saved, petitions below]

Below is a link to @ SUNSETSAPPHICS twitter thread from the picture up above filled with several links that each take only a couple seconds to sign each, that i strongly urge - that I ask you to sign. You could potentially save a life. Please sign, spread the word anywhere and everywhere, tag people on your message board, tag people here, make a chapter about somewhere, idc just let your voices be heard and make a difference in these people's lives! Save. A life! It has happened before and we can do it again!

[link]

Petition to Abolish the Death Penalty

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa   @ @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes ​ @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @mirdall @fishswimbetterunderwater @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g ​ @lozzybowe @bluechildrenlickmytoes

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 8)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 7

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Geralt seemed to always get involved for a royal favor; no matter how he avoids it, they keep slithering back until he agrees to accept. Though, the sorceress wants you involved in it as well. After the unlucky incident back in the marketplace, the witcher was keen on bringing you back to where you belong; sparking up an argument with the bard as Jaskier could feel that there was something palpable and precious with the odd like care you were receiving from the Butcher of Blaviken. Destiny just knows how to play the game well. 

Warnings: Sorceress and Tybalt being touchy feely. (I know you want Geralt being touchy feely as well. You’ll get it soon I promise. HAHAHHA) Jaskier spitting some truths. Geralt being hot and then cold again, you just can’t understand what he wants. *sigh* I can see y’all planning to get a razor and make Geralt bald. XDDDDD

Words: 5.5k+

A/N: DANG. GERALT OF RIVIA. YOU’VE TAKEN THE CURSE OFF ME. I usually lose all my ideas after chapter 5. But, here we are. This will freakin’ take 30 chapters (I said 25 in the last chapter? DID I? OH. AHIHIHIHIHI) and I think I won’t regret it because of how slow paced I am. AHAHHAHAHAA. Y’ALL KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING ON THE LAST PART OF THIS CHAPTER? HEEHEE! WHAT ARE YOUR HUNCHES?

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

In the other side of the town where it is all serene and neglected, a red carriage has been waiting in silence for the return of her aide. The sorceress peered out of the tiny partition used as a window to see people outside where her glowing purple eyes can only be seen.

Tybalt sat beside her with a grimace, huffing out breaths full of vexation at the events that has happened which ruined all of his plans for the night with the Duke and some noblemen who wanted their maidens.

"Is he---??" The sorceress trailed off, sounding fascinated as she squinted her glowing, purple eyes out in the open as she saw a child, a bard and a witcher who was carrying a small bleeding woman in his arms. Tybalt grunted his approval, acting so stingy by the change of events, "The witcher we'd been looking for,"

The vampire was heaving deep breaths because of his boiling wrath for the witcher; feeling a sudden need to feed was tempting him to calm down and he would. There were tons of maidens in the castle and he would take one or maybe a pair to satiate his hunger as always.

He rarely does this. Only when he was triggered or frustrated about certain things that kept his anger at bay.

"---Slaughtered all of my men for the sake of saving that little harlot," he continued with a grumble and a tight knot of his brows. The sorceress scoffed to the news that was given, expecting a successful gather of the women who were used as debts to serve the royalty or noblemen. "Even Terrowin?" she questioned with utter interest, raising a brow as she scrutinized the arms that surrounded the witcher who had ruined all of Tybalt's plans, "Even, Terrowin."

"Such a shame. He was one of the best horsemen for the king," Sorceress Ingrith tutted to her disappointment, sighing as the knight's death was nothing but a passing of the winds. Her wavy hair fell on her hips, swaying as she turned her head to watch you leave before loudly closing the partition.

"---But, not better than the witcher," the firm announcement was enough to tell Tybalt that the sorceress considered Geralt's skills as remarkable. She comfortably sat on her carriage and laid her glowing purple eyes on the vampire who had bowed his head as a sign of respect, "---Get me the witcher," she commanded with authority, "---and also the small maiden,"

Tybalt shook his head, a wince forming his features as he tried to get the witcher to accept his favors for years and years end. But, he was too obdurate. Never wanting to get involved by their hierarchy because of certain reasons he won't tell. The event that has happened was just a lucky shot for the vampire as it doesn't happen often, "He won't comply that easily because he has been avoiding us, my lady." Though, his opposition seem to be invalidated as she continued with a strong will to have the witcher walking to the path towards the castle, "---King Viduka must be mirthful for the news ahead," she ignored his statement, "---the prince will be healed soon,"

Sorceress Ingrith languidly blinked at Tybalt who was giving her a tight frown for her commands, "---As long as the witcher will be promising,"

The sorceress tutted for the second time, noting his foul expression that made her cross her legs as a sign that she was stronger and powerful than the latter; like her word is the law. She'd gave him a life back; even better than it ever did and now he wasn't hiding as he did back in his hometown.

Ingrith licked her cherry red lips and could feel the vampire's hunger grow more as she'd swiftly brushed her hair to the side, showing her delectable neck to him as a sign of approval to be used for his satiation again whenever it was full moon, "Use the maiden for him to comply," a sly smirk and a way to give him pleasure was all it took for him to nod in submission, "She...seems important for him to not hesitate and kill my men,"

The sorceress pondered in front of him, seeming to be in deep thought other than the fact that her men has been killed with just one man except for Tybalt because of his abilities. The latter languidly maneuvered till he'd given her no space in their carriage, their warmth embracing each other in a way that could get the devil laughing for their souls. "She...also feels different," Ingrith breathed in a deep breath, feeling Tybalt lean in close to that favorite spot of his on her neck, "What do you mean?" he mumbled against her neck, lightly giving a soft kiss to her sweet spot.

She exhaled a breath of pleasure as she felt his sharp, wet tongue licking a stripe from the line that connects her shoulder till the back of her ears as Tybalt groaned in satisfaction and from her delectable scent, "Her...Her body is an embodiment that makes me feel baffling," Another hitch of her breath. "What are you suggesting, Ingrith?"

"Give her to me when she comes to the castle," she firmly pressed and felt him sucking her soft spot that made her whimper, "---I just need to be sure,"

They hurriedly taken you to a healer and it was the right time because in any more minute you would've lost a lot of blood that can get death defying for a mere human like you. After bandaging you up and with Geralt's persistence that you should be taken home rather than to stay with a healer got you what he wanted. The healer has given herbs to be taken to numb the pain when it hits you like a train.

The princess wasn't doing good as well; mentally. Thinking that it was all her fault that they had to play hide and seek with the kids and happened to hide on a part of the town that had been deserted. Geralt reassured her that it wasn't her fault and she should stop crying because you wouldn't like it that she would be weeping for your selfless integrity; especially that he knew you were there in Cirilla's room last night, comforting the princess.

The witcher was actually impressed that it only took you hours for her anger to die down rather than him and Jaskier who managed to have a block of wood thrown to them as they coax her to stay calm.

Jaskier was sat on the witcher's bed where he has laid you upon; Cirilla was in her room and trying to relax from all the events that has happened. Geralt stood on the wall next to his door; his hefty arms crossed as he was giving the bard a scowl as he continued to pat your sweat-filled face.

The bard's ocean blue eyes gave him a once over, grinning in the process of his continuous soft pats on your temples because of how vicious he appeared to be.

Jaskier puckered his lips and gave a low chuckle; swiftly throwing the towel in the bucket of water. He shifted on his side of the bed and was face front towards the brooding witcher trying to drown in his own shadows. "Oooh, the scary face," the bard gestured with his index finger; drawing a circle far from his face before abruptly rising to his feet and ushering to you whom was resting on Geralt's bed; looking slightly dull from all the blood lost from you, "---Will you do the honors? It seems like you're throwing daggers behind my back as I clean her face with a face towel,"

The witcher grumbled a rough hum, his eyebrows raising as he lifted himself off the wall and languidly passed by Jaskier with a frown etched on his face. To Jaskier's surprise, Geralt dubiously sat on where the bard has been seated and reached out for the towel drenched in the bucket of water; mindlessly squeezing the excess with one hand before turning and actually planning to wipe those cold sweat running down your forehead.

The witcher ceased his actions before the towel even touched your skin. He'd cursed beneath his breath and deeply groaned to himself, scrunching his nose for his peculiar gestures, "You could've said something!" Jaskier crowed as a matter of fact and gave him the stink eye as he was restlessly cussing like a sailor.

He was just taking care of you because of the guilt that it was his fault for bringing you with them at the marketplace. It wasn't because his senses were telling him to do it because it was the natural thing to do.

There he was again, acting strange like he'd been when you've first arrived in their lives; offering to bandage your wounds for you when you could've done it without anyone's help.

Was this destiny fucking with him? He shouldn't have listened to the part where Durriken has spat shit about his destiny like he knew what was about to come.

The old man was probably inebriated when he had the talk with Geralt. Definitely had too much ale.

"You know what, Geralt?" Jaskier suddenly thought out loud, leaning on the wall where Geralt has been as he watched the witcher softly pat your forehead with the towel; like you were some fragile little thing. Though, the bard was sure he hesitated at first because it took him a minute of self meditation before cleaning to your aid, "This rat..." he trailed off as Jaskier had his arms crossed over his lean chest; voice solemn and with regret, "---I was actually frightened to have lost her,"

Geralt hummed in understanding to tell the bard that he was listening. But, his words made the witcher's bushy eyebrows knot together in intrigue; waiting for Jaskier to continue as he continued his gentle gestures; incapable of not studying your relaxed features as you slept.

You were at peace and utmost looking adorable as you slept, he was sure of that.

But, nobody needed to know his opinions about you. It was better kept unsaid because of the bothered feeling inside of him that wanted to swallow him whole; just like his soul, not like he even had one anymore.

The bard continued his comments and watched the witcher give care to another person without any second doubts aside from Cirilla and him. He never said it out loud but he does care for him, Jaskier was sure of it. That was just how he is, he never tells anything. Never wanted people to see through him because it would be a tough flaw. Other witchers grew old with having no emotions because of their brutal trials, but not Geralt. He had everything. The feeling of love, anger, lust, sympathy, joy, fear and a lot more. However, reading his emotions would be as difficult as to climb over that wall he was using for cover.

It takes years and expertise to read him like a book, and the bard knew that for sure.

Jaskier had a small smile written on his face as he honestly blurted out loud, "---But, not as scared as you happened to be,"

The witcher ceased his actions on cleaning your face. Jaskier's words echoing inside his head like a damn bell from a church. He languidly blinked and calmly breathed out of his nose at his accusations towards the witcher's feelings. Another feeling boiling that strange void inside his chest.

"You know that berk?" Jaskier managed to ask; completely unaware of the witcher deeply sighing before him. The bard held his chin as he looked at the ceilings; seeming in deep thought, "---If I remembered correctly, his name was Ty...Tyran---"

The latter evidently exhaled a deep; loud grumble of a name he started to hate since the moment he saw him again. His lips flashing a scowl in a way that says he wanted to burn the guy alive after all he's done, "Tybalt. He's a vampire feeding off the castle,"

Jaskier nodded as he lifted himself off the wall, puckering his lips as he hadn't let the thought process inside his head, "Oh, a vampire." Abrupt pause. Before his eyes grew thoroughly astounded, "---What?! You're not serious?! I thought vampires were much more...uglier and not looking like humans?"

"He's a more higher form of a vampire; much more higher than a Bruxa, Ekimmaras, Alps, or Katakans. A very rare species. It doesn't need blood to survive, but they drown in it preferably in full moon,"

The witcher straightened his back, hovering away from you as a soft, light snore resonated from your lips, putting back the towel inside the pail; thoroughly relaxed unlike when he had you in his arms, bleeding like a waterfall. It was a feeling he had been dreading as he'd already felt that fear before and the witcher didn't like it one bit as the hollow feeling that was knocking on his doorstep agitated him; thus, which leads to vulnerability that he never had after those events before you came along.

"He's the most trusted of the king," Geralt bluntly answered for the bard's question, trying to distract himself from those thoughts that would consume him like a never ending nightmare, "---Other than the sorceress leeching off the castle as well,"

Jaskier wandered across his room like he'd never before; he already did but he was trying to see if there was some new changes. Yet, there was none. Sadly.

"You know the sorceress?" The bard's question consists of shock, hearing Geralt tell him stories about the people in the castle like he'd known them when he never did. However, the way Jaskier said it seemed to be like it had a double-meaning, "---Of course, you do." he chaffed; voice lacing with sheer sarcasm.

Geralt gave him a look, shifting on his bed as he tried to force himself to shift his eyes away from you. It was the only time he could look at your face without you blushing like a virgin, "No, I don't." the witcher uttered; unenthusiastically.

"Well, that's a first!" the bard squeaked and stumbled from the witcher's sword that was leaning on a particular wall; snapping a lackadaisical glaze of his glowing golden eyes towards the bard who was muttering his apologies and actually hopping on one foot because it was heavy and it hurt his pinky toe.

Jaskier continued his hops of protest, ceasing once he'd heard the witcher surprisingly share something other than sparing one word answers to people's questions. He was finally sharing something other than the word 'fuck' or those displeased hums.

"I never wanted to get involved with their pestilential hierarchy," the witcher murmured, staring at the walls to his room. It had the same design as to what Cirilla had; but his was much more doleful. Technically, a room that couldn't give him comfort and warmth as he sleeps.

Geralt knew what happens around the kingdom. He knew how wicked and utter evil the castle can get; no matter how he tried to refuse their favors, he'd heard a lot of gossips about the king and queen, especially their son who happened to be the prince.

They were a family who outgrew the kingdom with fiend, corruption and selfishness. No kingdom has been perfect; though theirs were the worst of everything.

The witcher continued; heedful of the steady heartbeat of yours as you slept on his bed, "---It's their culpability to have a witch in wrath for their wrongdoings," he gruffly shared, a small smile creeping his face as he exhaled a sigh out of his lips; remembering the real reason why the prince was cursed; with jealousy being the actual reason of it all, maybe also a stab to the ego or dignity for the queen of Kaedwen, "--and I have no will to help people drowning in malevolence,"

Jaskier hasn't realized that he was gawking at the Witcher's back for so long as he talked; sauntering to the other side of the room where Geralt was as he weirdly eyed him with a judging look, "That's...the longest I've heard from you. It makes me want to shed a tear,"

"Hmm,"

The witcher's smile instantaneously fell at the ridicule that was sent. He firmly shook his head at the bard and huffed a breath before turning his head to inspect your state; calmly breathing like you had no worries in your life.

His lips straightened into a tight thin line, roughly saying his next words with those careless thoughts slipping out of his mouth and quickly staring back at the bard who was grinning, "The quicker we find a djinn, the faster she returns to her home,"

Jaskier's facial expression molded into disbelief. Exhaling one deep, heavy breath as he had his hands on his hips, eyes fluttering repeatedly from the words that left the witcher's lips like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, "Wait, wait, wait," he scoffed, "Why the sudden hurry, witcher?"

Geralt gave him a look that had hostility shading his eyes, "I thought you wanted me to help her?"

"I do, I do!" Jaskier nodded and uttered as a matter of fact before side-stepping till he was completely face front at the brawny witcher who had his normal grumpy face on show, "---But, I didn't thought you'll be tossing her away that easily,"

Geralt gave him a subtle frown, looking away from the bard as he sighed in tiredness because it seems like he didn't want her to go away as soon as possible; unlike the first day that Y/N appeared like a woman from the swamps; all soiled and dirty like she has been drowned by a Kikimore. "Do you really hear yourself right now? Are you sure you want her to leave?" it was a question he expected from the bard, yet a query he didn't want to hear from another person because it was frustrating him in some ways, "---After seeing you cradling her like a bairn, I suppose not."

The witcher ignored his protests and lowly emitted a groan that vibrated off his chest, his eyes sharp when it landed on Jaskier again. "She needs to leave," he sternly mentioned with emphasis and firmness. Jaskier noticed how the sentence was actually not for him, but actually for the witcher himself. He sounded like he was in need of thorough persisting about the fact that you needed to leave and so, the bard went on with his jabbers, "You don't sound too sure of yourself now, are we?"

Geralt hissed back, his brows in a tight knot; body posture turning rigid as he carried on. "Jaskier, she doesn't belong here. She never will," he gave a dour to his friend, "Have you seen what happened?"

"---and you handled it very well, might I add. Very heroic of you,"

"I can't always be available whenever she gets involved by whatever troubles she may bring,"

Jaskier lifted his eyes off from checking his nails, landing them on the rhadamanthine witcher who had a grim expression on his pleasing features, "Why do you sound scared?" he suddenly spat a question towards the upset trunk of a man. He'd seen how Geralt's nose scrunch in agitation, making the bard step back when the latter began to stand on his feet, towering before him with a nasty looking grimace, "It's because I am not, bard."

Jaskier probably struck a nerve this time because he was looking at him very differently; like he's done with everything; tired of even living.

He tried not to let him see how he swallowed the nervous jitters that stuck inside his throat; trying to confidently straighten his back as to not back down from his irk towards him, trying to stand for his point, "You always have a habit of shooing people away when you're actually already caring for the latter,"

Geralt's mouth twitched in exasperation; his annoyance coming out of his nose in deep breaths as he obviously struck a nerve.

"Jaskier."

Maybe, Jaskier's timing really did suck all the time.

Unaware of the witcher's piqueness and cynicism, the bard couldn't stop his mouth from trying to prove a point. Technically not disturbed that the witcher's nose was flaring in displeasure.

"Oh, alright! Whenever you're in the midst of questioning yourself, you always answer people with violence or brutally hurt their emotions!"

Jaskier didn't mean for it to go there. The bard's facial expression immediately scrunched to regret because of how it sounded out of his mouth. Harsh. Truly, it was better inside his head rather than being said out in the open. The bard couldn't help but flinch when Geralt stepped a cautious foot closer to him; his jaw tense and teeth clenching from complete vexation at what he has been saying. His golden eyes blazing in ire.

"What do you want me to do, bard?" he raved as he was trying to burn him with his death stares, "---What are you fucking implying?"

Jaskier has been avoiding his eyes at all costs, stepping back when the witcher stepped another foot close to scare him off; but the bard never does. He side-stepped to escape from his wrath when he was close to being cornered and opened his arms as he threw another fact that he'd already seen when he was with the witcher and his journeys before:

"Go on. Do your foolish actions by pushing her away or leaving a woman when she's in the right state of mind of being in her vulnerable best!" the truth was said without any pauses nor did the bard inhaled a breath, "---Treat the midget like how you've treated Yennifer and wait for her to leave you as well in the end because of your utterly boorish attitude!"

It was an utter mistake. Jaskier shouldn't have said that out loud because he could see fire burning behind Geralt as he heavily marched to where he was. He didn't intentionally wanted to mention Yennifer and what happened to his relationship with her before; and it was one ounce of patience that was snapped from the witcher himself when Jaskier began to even recall his mistakes in the past like having nightmares and that void inside his chest wasn't enough for his sufferings.

The bard shrieked as he dodged Geralt and slid under his arm; his lean body being an advantage from the wrathful witcher. "It...was a mistake! Although, it's not! I am sorry to have hurt your very much virile ego! You left Yennifer then! Not the other way around---Geralt!" Jaskier shrieked and contemplated whether or not to jump on the bed when he'd seen you laying with your bloody bandages; sequentially raising his arms in surrender and tightly closing his eyes shut for the blow; waiting for another strong punch in the gut for his rotten mouth.

Thanks to Cirilla who has entered the room, Geralt has ceased on choking the bard alive; sensing that the princess was irked by their foolishness as she entered with a frown on her face, "This is why you both must not be in the same room together," she scoffed and dashed her way towards where you were, seeing your bandages with blood made her upset yet again, "---I don't know when you're foolishly sharing banters or actually fighting already!"

The witcher was fiercely glaring at the bard, his cat eyes not helping the image that would certainly give Jaskier nightmares because he'll worry that Geralt would choke him in his sleep. Cirilla promptly sat beside your bed, scanning your wounded body as your eyebrows suddenly twitched together, straining your forehead in disturbance.

The bard continued his relentless, rational reckons while Geralt went on with giving him the stink eye. Your head was hurting with Jaskier's nonstop blabbers which adds more pain to your aching head as you felt a brisk, chilly wind caress your feet till it traveled in every part of your body.

You were breathing heavily. Dry chapped lips quivering like you were trapped outside the brumal night. Your consciousness knowing that your body was also trembling from the chills with a fever that came with the wound.

"Geralt," His child of surprise muttered, entirely alarmed by your noticeable quivers, "---She's shaking,"

Both men instantly snapped their heads from where Cirilla was. Geralt's senses catching your unstable temperature as he roughly spat coherent profanities; shaking his head. "Ugh--fuck,"

Geralt let out a baritone of a snarl which caught everybody's attention as he promenaded to where you rest. Cirilla promptly dragging herself out of your side as the witcher took place; covering your forehead with the back of his palm to check how hot you were.

You've keened before his touch; the witcher's hand so comfortable for you which aids to your shivers and sighing when he'd used his palm to check you better, a rough huff of breath escaping your lips as you've momentarily felt the warmth scurrying away.

The princess was kind enough to help Geralt, squeezing the excess towel out of the cold bucket of water. Her, being the good child she was; volunteering to wipe cold water all over your face. The witcher gave the child some space for her as you shivered like you were being thrown in a bath tub full of ice.

"---And now he cares again, ladies and gents,"

Geralt swiftly turned his head to Jaskier and gave him a scowl; thoroughly pissed off by his nonsense already and Cirilla did as well. Snapping back at the bard with tired pleads, "Jaskier, will you please?"

Soon, silence has engulfed the trio. The bard has already shut his mouth and actually pondered his regret on even uttering out those foolish things to the witcher with no reason. But, he'd given a little bit of positivity in it that maybe he'll actually consider that you weren't just an animal that he wanted to shoo away with no goodbyes.

Cirilla gave a soft sigh as she'd seen your shivering die down a bit; though, if you look closely, there was still some tiny quivering because of the cold wind coming from the opened windows.

She'd wondered out of nowhere, staring at the candle that was lit beside Geralt's bed before a shocking suggestion was said out loud to cease the trembles, "You need to hug her while she sleeps!" the princess excitedly announced like it was the best idea ever; standing in haste and spinning on her heel for effect to give her attention to the witcher who seemed to be staring back at her, unfazed.

"Hugs...aren't my forte,"

She raised a questioning brow at him, remembering how they hug whenever he goes somewhere and comes home safely, "She's having chills!"

Geralt sapped, languidly blinking back in exhaustion as he shook his head in negation, "It'll pass, princess."

Cirilla stubbornly crossed her arms; demanding in a way that sounded like how she was back in her castle, "Hug her!"

The witcher exhaled a long, heavy, perceivable breath. Sometimes, her requests could get to his head and make him want to just utter the deepest blasphemy he could ever say out loud. But, he always fought himself not to and tended to what she wanted as per usual before she throws woods at him again.

Geralt reached his arm out to gently pat on your arm, making your nose scrunch as you rested on his bed; wanting to wake up because of those warm pats on your arm, yet you had no power to as you wanted to continue and rest.

Jaskier and Cirilla stared at the witcher like he'd grown three heads, figuring out what the heck he was even doing. The witcher eyed them back with a look that tells them what was wrong.

"Is that a hug to you, Geralt?!" Cirilla managed to finally commented out loud in disbelief. Geralt shrugged his thick shoulders and cocked his head to the side, still tenderly patting you like he was dusting off some dirt on your clothed arm.

"It's close enough."

The princess of Cintra wanted to protest out loud, even wanting to start a petition about how patting someone on the arm was as close as to giving a warm hug for comfort, but no words were spoken as she massaged her temples like she was close to being stressed out already, "You're just patting her on the arm like an old man!"

Thus, it was Jaskier's time to shine. The bard took his time and started to tread towards where you were; "I can hug her, if you want? No malicious thoughts perceivable through the naked eye---" he was hastily stopped by the witcher who happened to clasp his strong fingers around his lean arms, ceasing him from circling around towards the space on the bed where he could give you a hug while you rest.

The ivory haired witcher gave another one of his snarls; voice grumbling so deep they could mistaken it as a growl, "It's my bed, bard." he lackadaiscally said, stating the obvious and that there was some kind of hindrance that shouldn't be stepped over.

Jaskier subtly gave Cirilla a once over, stopping himself from smirking as he tried to appear salty and just nodded back at the witcher. Leaving him to whatever solutions he had for you to stop from shivering.

Perhaps, finding a Djinn was not the best solution for you. It was a secret avant-garde for the witcher's heart as you started hopping inside that void with all smiles, ignoring the darkness that could possibly consume you as it was the only world he may bring.

Unbalance.

You felt like floating in thin air. Vision all blurry and hazy from an unspecified fog that made you squint your eyes shut as you walked into the sweltering path that had no possibility of reaching an end. It was murky and had no end; like a maze that give you entrance but promises that it has no return. There was voices reverberating like an echo in the deepest caves. Some voices were definitely unfamiliar and also sounding to be in rage while the last echo sounded a lot like Jaskier and Cirilla's laugh that made you snap your head towards where they were coming from.

Another delicate step along the path dusted in twigs, mud and rocks; the scene unexpectedly changed, bringing you to a glorious looking banquet. Scrumptious looking food plated in the most rakish way as strangers sat in front of you; their barbarous laughter and prattles completely opposite of how you were acting in the middle of it all. Thus, you've heard singing all around the place. Your curious self studying the whole setting as you noticed that you weren't in just some hostelry but rather in a huge great hall inside an unknown castle you've never seen before.

Your eyes immediately snapped to where the singing was all happening as you saw a familiar face who was strumming his lute with a smile. You've wanted to giggle at how he appeared to look ecstatic on entertaining everyone in the large room, yet from the moment you've opened your mouth; no voice could ever leave your lips.

One blink was all it needed for the event to change, seeing a silhouette of a man who stood beside you which caught your attention as your vision scanned the man who hurriedly snatched your cup of ale on your hands.

It was Geralt of Rivia and he was surprisingly dressed in something flamboyant that could keep him camouflage amongst the circle of people; though he appeared to be maddened by something as his golden eyes were flaring in hostility.

But, there was an eerie, disturbed feeling deep inside of you as he was smiling back at someone who he was toasting for. You wanted nothing but for him not to drink the liquor on his hands with no particular reason. The next two cups full of ale sat in front of you on the wooden table.

"For your imperishable, spectacular prosperity that runs in the castle," the witcher took a swig until it was empty as he gently lowered the cup with a soft thud. You've noticed the hesitance he held when it appeared to be like he didn't want to grab onto the second one; yet he still did as he gave you a once over with a strange, tender gaze that you weren't accustomed with.

You couldn't move, nor could get your fingers twitching as your head was the only thing motile. That eerie feeling molding into something greater; fear for what was about to come. Geralt grabbed onto the second cup of ale without blinking an eye, his smile falling for one second; only for you to see as he deeply stared onto the cup on his hands, "May...you have strength and faith for your majesty. For the fraudulent happiness you've always envisaged,"

Everybody was staring at the witcher who was giving wishes and you couldn't look at anywhere but Geralt who'd scoffed before chugging down the second round of ale. He'd subtly shook his head from whatever he was thinking, a forced smile lifting his lips that seemed phony.

"Your highness," he lifted the last cup for everybody else to see, giving a toothy grin as his smile consists of mischief and dread that only you could muster, "---and this...is for your son's shitless death to the fore,"

FEEDBACKS ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED! Y’ALL ARE PROBABLY HATING GERALT RIGHT NOW. AHONHONHON. PATIENCE, BB’S. PATIENCE.

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @vania-marie​ @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​​ @marvelousell​​​ @kingniazx​​​ @angelias134​​​ @tapismyforte​ @chook007​

[soldouthaz]

hii! I'm not having the best night and I felt like compiling a list of my favorite fics that never fail to make me smile when I'm down or have provided me a beautifully worded escape for a while :) 

disclaimer: I will list the specifics for those interested, but there is a mix of bl / bh so be aware of that please. these are the fics that make ME happy and I want to spread some positivity for the talented authors that have gotten me through some rough times, so please leave any negativity out of it and stick to your own preferences. 

thank you and happy reading! ♡

✰ enter the rose garden (GA, 10k, imp. b!L) by @angelichl

Soft heats make omega Louis clingy. Enter alpha Harry. 

✰ before we knew (E, 40k, b!L) by @risthebrave / falsegoodnight 

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

✰ baby we could be enough (I'll make this feel like home) (E, 57k, b!H) 

“Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”

Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.

“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”

And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.

[harry is a photographer who's trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]

✰ when you touch me, paint me like a van gogh (E, 4k, b!L) by TurismoEmocional 

(Harry has been away for a month. He comes home to Louis in the middle of the night - dramatics and smut ensue.) 

✰ undone, undress (E, 134k, b!H) by @angelichl

Louis' new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He's an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers.

Obviously something is wrong. Louis just doesn't know what it is.

personal note: this fic is amazing and has been very validating for me, but please make sure to check the tags and author’s note for any possible triggers before reading and make the best choice for yourself! 

✰ ours are the moments I play in the dark (E, 30k, b!L) by @holdingthornsandroses / edensrose

Jane Austen's Persuasion AU. Nine years ago Louis Tomlinson was persuaded to break off his engagement to Harry Styles, a poor sailor. Since then Louis has come to regret being so easily convinced to give up his one chance of happiness. Now Louis' family is in debt and his childhood home is being sold. In a complete reversal of fortune, Harry has returned to England a wealthy bachelor looking to settle down. Events conspire to bring them together once more though Louis is- must surely be- the last man on earth that Captain Styles would think of now.

✰ hot and heavy, pumpkin pie (E, 10k, b!L) by @sunflowerstyles

Louis and Harry get separated at a Green Bay Packers game. Harry finds him and helps his baby relax by buying Louis things that get him to smile and making love to him for quite a while. 

✰ laundry room (E, 10k, not specified/no penetrative sex) by @thelovejandles / beautlouis

[Louis and Harry are both students living in the same apartment complex. They end up having the same laundry night and time. Louis can't stop staring at Harry and he can't figure out why Harry consistently points out Louis’ inside-out shirts, and his untied shoes, and messy hair. Enter slow burn-ish flirting, banter, awkwardness, and a lot of laundry.] 

✰ everywhere and nowhere (E, 16k, b!L) by @2tiedships2 

Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food."

"What has he given you?" Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though."

"Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school."

"What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?"

"I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you."

Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"

✰ thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in (E, 52k, b!L) by @absoloutenonsense / nonsensedarling

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

✰ the case of the (definitely not haunted) styles mansion (E, 40k, b!H) by @briannamarguerite / briamaria

The Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

✰ building castles in the sky (GA, 22k, no smut) by @whileatwiltshire

"D-dad? You think I c-can do it? Y-you think i c-can..." Evan trailed off looking down at his chest. And Louis' heart melted.

"I think you can do everything, love. Everything." Louis said while pulling his boy closer. "Because you, my little dandelion, are very brave! And so strong and wonderful and so very bright! You will go up on that stage, and you will blow everyone away. I just know it."

They laid there on their porch while they hugged each other tightly. His little boy was so brave. Louis didn't need to see him on a stage to be proud. He was proud of him already.

"You know,” Evan mumbled aloud again. “Mr. S-Styles says the same t-thing. He s-says I c-can do e-everything too.”

And Louis couldn't help but smile.

or,

Where, Louis had a four year old with a stuttering problem. Harry was always there to help.

✰ a trail of honey through it all (E, 27k, b!L) by faeriestyles 

the TPH* fic we’ve all been waiting for. 

* (trailer park harry)

✰ we should open up (before it’s all too much) (E, 43k, b!H) by @disgruntledkittenface

Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people.

Then he meets Louis.

personal note: I cannot stress enough how much this fic means to me and it is very close to my heart, but I strongly suggest checking the tags for any possible triggers before reading!! 

✰ my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) (E, 27k, b!L) by @risthebrave / falsegoodnight 

Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

✰ swept me off my feet (took my heart and took me down) (E, 25k, b!L) by jennifer_kaid

When Louis had decided to reopen his mother's bakery, he never thought a charming alpha would walk in through the door, let alone fall in love with him over tea, dessert and music.

✰ knock knock, I love you (E, 86k, b!H) by @thelovejandles / beautlouis

[Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.] 

✰ enjoy the ride (E, 11k, imp. b!L) by @2tiedships2

the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

✰ fading (E, 202k, b!L) by tothemoonmydear

Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is.

personal note: another wonderful and realistic story but please check the tags for triggers before reading! 

all of these fics and authors mean a lot to me and have unknowingly made me incredibly happy during some dark times. if you visit these fics, please make sure to leave a kudos or a comment to spread some positivity, or feel free to let the authors that have made your life better know! :) 

(as always, please let me know if I tagged or linked anything incorrectly! happy reading!) 

[italoniponic]

JACK LIKERS RISE UP

[twstedoven]

Monday Melancholy Deuce x Reader.

Edited

word count: 942

Author’s note;

This one-shot based off Honey works Monday Melancholy cause I'm a sucker for Amatsuki voice. That boy vocal is a punch in the gut, especially when he hit those high notes. I apologize for taking a while. It was hard thinking of a character who would suit the song until I thought of Deuce. I also apologize if there wasn't much interaction between the reader and Deuce. I only based it off the first few verses of the song, so I recommend listening to the song before reading. Because let's be honest, we all simping over a love that will never exist. *cough* all the twisted boys *cough*. Anyway, constructive criticism is helpful.

Among the audience, buzzing with excitement, sat a cobalt-haired adolescent boy gripping tightly on his denim's rough fabric. Bright highlighted pink and green shifts with the air, creating a light source, as the screams of many chanted the lyrics of a well-known song. There she was centered in the middle, dancing in exhilaration. Her slender finger pointed towards his direction, provoking her fans even more. That small interaction initiated a reddened color to spread on his cheeks as he swiftly diverts his attention to the metal flooring. How did this even happen? Ace's invitation to a  concert for an artist he wasn't familiar with.  It was all fine then until she made her presence. The God's gifted him a genuine angel, as her voice seize his attention like the sirens luring in the hapless sailors trapped in the ethereal waves. Simultaneously, the tight fluffy dress hugged her figure while moving to the beat of her song. His eyes entrap with (e/c) ones. Deuce maintained his make-belief world with just the two of them, not overzealous supporters or the wide gap between them.

Only him and (Y/N)

"I've got a spare ticket to sweet apple. Wanna come?"

Ace leaned his chest against the sturdy wooden chair. His eyes flutter at his classmates individually, each engrossed with their own conversations. Last period recently concluded as Professor Divus wrapped up his remaining magic class with the first years. The blue-haired teenager silently sat in his seat, writing down notes from the lecture. Fed up with the neglect, Ace slammed his palm on the hard wooden surface, with his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "Oi! Are you even listening!?" he snarled. "I'm sorry were you saying something, Ace?" Deuce politely query the cherry red-head. Rolling his eyes, Ace shoved a small card into his direction. "One of my favorite artists is performing in Twisted Wonderland, and I do happen to have a spare ticket." "And because I'm such a good friend, I'm honoring you to come and watch." He smirked at his self proclaim statement, viewing Deuce as a simpleton. Deuce read the ticket's context, a shiny paper with bold letters providing the seat number and date.

"Sweet Apple?"

"Pretty awesome for a stage name, right?"

"I guess, but who is Sweet Apple?"

Stunned, Ace gawk at him, waiting for Deuce to say it was all a joke. However, his curious expression did not waver. "Your kidding right, you seriously don't know who is Sweet Apple?" He shook his head, sighing. "Am I supposed to know her--"

"Of you are!" Ace abruptly stood up from his chair, quickly reaching for his phone situated on his desk. "She's like that singer who sang honey love."

"I don't know that song."

Soon a soft feminine voice overtook their discussion. "This song, you don't know? It was like playing everywhere right now." Deuce stared at his friend, as Ace was mindless scrolling on his device, attempting to trigger a familiarity within his friend's mind. "Here, this is Sweet Apple" He shoved it in front of his view. A photo of a petite girl posing at the camera. Her fingers formed a heart shape; at the same time, she winked. "Look, just come to the stadium this Saturday." Ace begrudgingly stood up; his bones clicked into place from accommodating one position too long. Deuce was about to protest, "but what about my-"

"look, just show up, and I'll buy you lunch on Monday." The mischievous boy waved his hand lazily. Deuce glance at the ticket laying untouched, he sighed, finally caving in his friend demand.

Now he was in this position, although Deuce stuck between Ace and another sweaty fan. He couldn't help but enthralled by the singer. Deuce posed stiff as a stick, with his back slightly hunched forward and his clammy palms rested upon his knees. Ace caught his awkward posture and handed him a green light stick. "Oi, just swinging it back and forth."

"You look lame doing nothing." Deuce stared at the glowing rod, slowly he raised it, waving in one motion. Gradually he joined the off singing fans shouting the lyrics of her songs. Although he mumbles most parts, due to unfamiliarity, he had fun. He'll admit he was about to leave and abandon Ace cause he was bored as hell. Nothing seemed to happen except the excited mutters begging for the (h/c) girl to appear on stage. The seating was also awful, as they were placed on the last row, barely seeing anything but a figure. However, there was a giant screen to make up for that. Overall the start of the concert was uneventful until she finally showed her appearance. She was glistening in sweat, with determination like she was in a battle undefeated. As their eyes made contact, he felt butterflies.

Ba-dump

Ba-dump

The concert ended not long ago; the pair exited the stadium exhausted from all the screaming. Stars painted the sky. Meanwhile, the crickets replaced the bird's melody. Ace stretched his arm in relief, "man; I'm beat." "Don't you agree that was the best concert ever? You don't need to thank me, by the way." Deuce still gazes at the plastic light, reminiscing the recent event.  "You can keep that by the way; I have another back in the dorm." His train of thought was interrupted, watching Ace walking away from him. A blush adored his face again, he won't admit it out loud, but he fell in love with a love that'll never be.

He grinned at that thought. Deuce began to sprint over to Ace.

Look's like he'll be attending the concert next week.

This Monday will be melancholy.

[italoniponic]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞

Hi, I’m italoniponic but you can call me “Cherry”~ I’m just a simple soul who likes to write and joke around things I like. 

✿ Playlist Maker — I have a sideblog @myplaylists-angeli that’s related to my own spotify account. Since making playlists for literally any reason is turning into my new personality trait, I decided to at least share it with you guys. 

✿ Carrd & Ko-fi — Here, it's my carrd with some important infos~~

✿ My Writings, Events and Lists — {REQUESTS CLOSED}

              » Cherry’s Harvesting (event) | Masterlist | List in Tropes; for Dorm | Ending Letter

              » Cherry's Writing (masterlist)

              » Rules

              » Yulia's hcs Collection

              » Twst OC's!! (coming soon)

              » Cherry & Anons Headcanon Collection

              » Twst icons series | blog for icons @cherrygoesiconic

✿ Fanficwritter — My account on ao3 is cherrygrace. I’m currently on a writing hiatus, unfortunately. But I may try to post some headcanons here once in a while.

✿ Multifandom — there’s a infinity of them as I watch a lot of stuff and have a new obsession once in a while. I’ll list the “big” fandom ones: 

             » twisted wonderland {main one here}; bnha; fullmetal alchemist bh; inuyasha; jujutsu kaisen; kaguya-sama; demon slayer; noragami; sailor moon; miraculous; haikyuu;

              » other “little” fandoms you will discover here bc I always go for the underrated ones for some reason.

✿ My Tags —

              »  #cherry’s mumbling > just me talking about random things

              » #cherry’s mumbling about [name] > just me talking about a specific anime/manga (list here)

              » #cereja matraca > me but in [portuguese-br]

              » #twistão das maravilhas > memes br de twisted wonderland

              » #cherry’s friends > interactions with my friends (still I haven’t put everything in the tag bc it couldn’t be a worst time to post a lot of things in this blog)

✿ Some Pessoal Things/Info —

             » I’m not a english native speaker but I try my best. My username is weird bc I’m terrible at creating these things. I’m Brazilian and actually have Italian descendance from my paternal grandfather and my maternal family part are related to Japanese by marriage. Since I grew up appreciating both cultures, my username kinda reveal that;

             » I’m Catholic, Apostolic and Roman. I’m not the type of person to say exactly how my day is going and this stuff, but I like to reblog some religious content from time to time, especially during Easter and Christmas. It’s not much (I actually wanted to do more) but that’s it for the time being;

            » I’m horrible at talking to people or making friends. That must be why I always ended up attached to introverted characters with lack of communication skills bc oh well, so do I. If you really want to talk to me about anything, be a little itty bitty patient, ok? It’s easier to befriend a rock than me tbh;

            » Don’t know how to classify my type of humor for comedy. I also love finding references in things that I like;

❝That’s it. Thanks for checking in!❞

[bucky-of-the-opera]

Ice Cream Man

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Robin helps Steve ask out one of his regular customers.

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 1,700ish

“Look alive, Harrington. Your girl’s coming this way,” Robin said from the window in the back room of Scoops Ahoy.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve mumbled; his cheeks reddening.

“You’re right. You’d have to ask her out on an actual date first.”

“Can it, Buckley.” He said, annoyed.

You came to the Starcourt Mall quite a bit over the summer; usually with your friends when they weren’t busy, but sometimes you ventured in by yourself. During these particular occasions, you would always wind up at Scoops Ahoy. You usually went to see a certain brunet in a sailor suit, but the first time was due to curiosity and your overactive sweet tooth.

***

You were standing in line behind a young girl and her friends. The girl had sampled multiple flavors, and the guy serving her seemed rather annoyed. When she asked for another sample, he rolled his eyes and told her to choose a flavor or leave.

What a douche, you thought. You were about to say something just when the girl crossed her arms and gave him her order. A minute later, she had her ice cream and sat down at a nearby table with her friends.

You walked up to the counter as the employee introduced himself. “Ahoy there, I’m Steve. How can I help you today?” He seemed almost bored as he spoke.

“Well Steve,” you said, “I was wondering what exactly you have against little girls.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. He thought maybe he had misheard you. “Excuse me?”

“All that girl wanted to do was taste another flavor, and you thought it was okay to be rude and refuse her?” you asked.

“Of course not!” he said a little too loudly, grabbing the attention of his coworker from the back room and the young girl at her table. “You got it all wrong.” He spoke softer now, leaning closer to you. “She’s in here almost every day, and she always demands free samples of every flavor. I still give her some, but at a certain point I have to cut her off,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your cheeks blushed when you realized you had wrongly accused him of being a jerk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

He smiled at you. “How could you? It’s fine, really. I would’ve assumed the same thing.”

Of course you had to go and berate the sweet guy who gives away too many free samples. You wished you could vanish into thin air to escape the embarrassing situation.

Steve could see how visibly uncomfortable you looked. “How about some free samples, on me?” Before you could answer, he had grabbed a bowl and loaded it with every flavor that was on display. “Whipped cream and cherry?” he asked. You hesitated a moment, before nodding. “Chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?” he added. He was still smiling at you as he waited for your response.

“Chocolate, please,” you finally answered.

When Steve handed you the bowl, you reached into your pocket to pay him. He saw the cash in your hand and shook his head. “I’m serious, it’s on the house this time.”

You put the money away and were about to thank him when the girl from before raised her voice from her table.

“Why does she get a whole bowl for free?! If I have to pay, she has to pay!”

Steve looked over at the girl. “Erica, I’ve given you plenty of free samples. Now sit down, and eat your ice cream before I call your mom.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but she begrudgingly chose to stay quiet and resume talking with her friends.

You chuckled and thanked him for the complimentary ice cream. “I’ll see you around, Steve.”

“See you, um…”

“Y/N,” you answered.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

You left the store right when Robin joined Steve at the counter. She grinned at him, knowingly. “You got it bad for her; don’t you, Harrington?”

Steve blushed. “Shut up.”

***

“Hi Steve,” you said when you reached the counter.

His eyes lit up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N. It’s been ages since I saw you last. How’ve you been?”

You saw him exactly two days ago when you came in to get ice cream with your friends. He and Robin made all of your orders, and he even gave you an additional scoop. After your initial exchange with Steve, he always gave you a little extra. And you weren’t complaining.

“I’m doing all right. I’ll be even better after some ice cream though,” you said.

He made you your usual order with your usual extra scoop and handed you your ice cream as Robin reappeared. She gave you and Steve a mischievous smile.

“Hi Y/N. That’s so weird that you’re here now; Steve and I were just talking about you!” Robin said.

Steve was shooting daggers at her with his eyes, but she was too amused with the situation to care.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N. She’s a compulsive liar,” Steve said, still glaring at Robin.

She rolled her eyes at Steve before turning back to you. “Anyway, Steve and I were going to catch a movie after work. Would you wanna come with us?”

Steve’s eyes widened. He definitely did not make any such plans with Robin. What was she playing at?

“I’d love to!” you answered, almost immediately.

“Great!” Robin said. “Meet us back here at closing.”

After you said your goodbyes and left the store, Steve turned to Robin.

“What the hell was that?!”

“That, Steven, is how you ask a girl on a date.”

Steve pouted and crossed his arms. “What would you know about asking out girls,” he mumbled.

Robin blushed. “More than you, apparently,” she muttered, before pushing past Steve to help the next customer.

***

Later that night, you arrived back at Scoops Ahoy just as Steve and Robin had finished closing for the night.

“Okay children, are we ready to go?” Robin asked you and Steve.

“Who are you calling a child? I’m older and taller than you,” Steve retorted.

Robin shook her head. “You're so sensitive. Now come on, before we miss the movie,” she motioned for you and him to follow as you made your way into the hidden hallway.

When you reached the theater, the three of you grabbed seats in the back. Steve sat down in between you and Robin.

A few minutes later, Robin leaned over to whisper into Steve’s ear. “You got this, Harrington.”

He looked at her, confusion etched on his face. “Got what?”

Instead of responding, Robin gave him two thumbs up and then jumped out of her seat.

“Robin!” Steve whisper-shouted. She ignored him and kept walking until she was out the door.

Dammit, he thought. So this was her plan all along. He bounced his leg while thinking of what he should do, just as you leaned over to him.

“Where did Robin go?” you asked.

“She, uh, she had a family thing she forgot about.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

Steve bit his lip. “Do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“Actually, I’d rather stay here and watch the movie with you. If you’re okay with that, of course,” you added quickly.

Steve’s heartbeat sped up as he looked you in the eyes. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You smiled back at him before turning your attention back to screen. As the movie played on, the two of you slowly inched your hands towards each other until your pinkies touched. Steve slid his hand on top of yours and laced his fingers through yours. He held your hand for a few more minutes until you leaned into him, prompting him to drape his arm around you.

At some point during the movie, you had laid your head on his shoulder, and it was still there when the movie ended. Steve thought you might have fallen asleep until you squeezed his hand.

“Did you like the movie?” he asked you.

“To be honest, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

He laid his head on top of yours. “That’s ok. I don’t even know what movie we were watching.”

You let out a laugh and pulled away to look at his face. He was smiling back at you as his gaze shifted between your eyes and yours lips. You both leaned forward until your lips touched. Steve kissed you slowly as he cupped your cheek. When you broke for air, you rested your forehead against his.

“Remind me to thank Robin for asking me out for you,” you said.

“Hey, I would’ve asked you out eventually.”

“Would you?” you asked. “Or would you just have given me free ice cream until the end of time?” you teased.

He traced the back of your hand with his finger. “Are you saying you want me stop giving you free ice cream?”

“You better not. I’ve grown accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle.”

As you looked around, you noticed the theater was empty, excluding you two. “I guess we should head out.” Steve nodded and stood up. He held his hand out to you, which you took, and led you to the parking lot.

“This is me,” you said when you arrived at your car.

Steve spun you around so you were facing him, and he placed his hands on your waist. You slid your hands up his chest and wrapped your them around the back of his neck.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Steve asked.

“If there’s ice cream, I’ll be there.”

He chuckled. “I think that can be arranged.”

You twirled a few strands of his hair around your finger. “Plus, I get to see you in your sailor suit.”

“You actually think I look good in that thing?” he asked in disbelief.

“Have you seen yourself, Steve? You’d look good in a burlap sack.”

He grinned and pulled you flush against him, lowering his head. His lips found yours once more, and you smiled into the kiss.

When Steve finally opened your car door for you, you slid into the drivers seat and rolled down your window to call out to him. “See you tomorrow, sailor.”

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Jumpstart Your Heart

it feels like it’s been a while right?? well, it’s been raining for a few days every week for about a month, so take ~4400 words of post-canon fluff (where Allura lived though it doesn’t really matter tbh). enjoy!! 

Pidge’s car refuses to start.

Fat raindrops steadily pelt her windshield, the lights in the Target parking lot blurring through the streaks of water on the glass. The chill of the winter air fills the interior, her breath misting out in front of her, and when she turns her key in the ignition, all she gets is a stuttering choking sound.

Pidge growls as her forehead falls against the steering wheel. All she wanted from Target was a jar of peanut butter and a bottle of orange juice for tomorrow’s breakfast, but all she got was stranded.

(Well, and the peanut butter and juice; those, along with a bag of cherry-flavored licorice that looked really good on the shelf but tasted awful the instant she tore apart the first strip, lay safely inside a paper grocery bag on the backseat.)

This is fine though! She was a Defender of the Universe - she was in worse situations before launching into space in a blue, lion-shaped weapon of mass destruction. What’s a little car trouble to a Paladin of Voltron?

Pidge drums her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking…she has a jumper cable in the trunk, right? Or, no, she let Hunk borrow it last time he was on Earth and forgot to ask for it back. Maybe another total stranger in the parking lot would have one - and a working car battery - and be willing to help her out? If they need convincing, she can even put on the old gremlin Pidge voice for them.

What drained her battery anyway? It’s not like she has to worry about leaving her headlights turned on when they’re supposed to turn off automatically!

Wait, when was the last time she had the battery changed?

“Quiznak,” Pidge grumbles when she realizes she’s never changed the battery. She spends all day - and sometimes night - designing some of the most advanced ships and weaponry in the universe, but her own damn car still has the battery she bought it with.

She’s going to have to call for help.

Right as the thought crosses her mind, her phone vibrates in her jacket pocket. She fumbles for it with stiff, cold fingers, expecting it to be her mother wondering if she’s home yet (never mind that she moved out of her parents’ house and into her own Garrison-issued apartment almost a year ago) only to be greeted with an alert from the weather service.

A flash flood warning for her county of residence.

“This is fine,” Pidge tells herself despite her heart skipping a beat in alarm. She’s never seen it rain this hard and for so long in this corner of Arizona; is a tsunami of muddy water about to wash across the Target parking lot and sweep her and her traitorous car away while she deliberates?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she mumbles, scowling at her rain-streaked reflection in the window. “Tsunamis occur as a result of earthquakes, and I’m nowhere near the coast.”

But what if the dam on the river—

Pidge unlocks her phone and dials the first number on her “recent calls” list without glancing at the contact name. Her leg shakes, but she can’t tell if it’s from agitation or the shivers occasionally gripping her.

“Pidge!” Lance greets her cheerfully at the other end. “How’s it going? Not that I’m not happy to hear from you, but since when do you—”

“Lance,” she cuts himself off, “do you have a jumper cable?” Usually speaking to him on the phone leaves her a tad breathless and her palms so slick with sweat she risks dropping anything she’s holding - why does a simple phone call feel so intimate anyway? It’s weird; she calls her parents and brother on the phone all the time! - but now urgency steadies her voice.

“Right to the point, huh?” Lance muses with a chuckle. “Where are you?”

“Uh…the Target by the state highway two miles off-base,” Pidge tells him.

Lance laughs and wonders, “The peanut butter at the commissary not good enough for you?”

Her face warms - is she really that predictable? - but she muffles an irritated groan with her sleeve. “The commissary’s not open this late.”

“Yeah, I guess you could’ve just walked there too,” he adds.

“In the rain?” Pidge snorts. “I’m not crazy enough to risk pneumonia like you.”

“Hey, sometimes I like the simple things,” Lance says, “and one of those is walking around in the rain.”

As if on cue, the downpour becomes a torrent, the sky dumping buckets of water on her car where she sits huddling in the driver’s seat. “Oh, really?” Pidge retorts, rolling her eyes. “You’d better not walk here unless you want me to use your quintessence as if it’s a thirteen-volt battery.”

“Please, I know you need another car to jumpstart your battery,” Lance says. “And since you asked so nicely, I’ll even bring you my umbrella since I’m guessing you didn’t bother with yours when you left.”

Pidge slumps in her seat, tugging her hood over her face as if he’s there to witness her embarrassment when she admits, “That would be…nice.”

(Too bad an umbrella won’t keep puddles from soaking into her socks.)

“All right, hang tight, Pidge!” Lance says. “I’m already in my car, so I’ll be there in a bit.”

Huh, so some of the rain she hears is on his end. “I’ll be here,” Pidge mumbles, “waiting for you…as usual.”

“Hey, don’t be like that!” he says over the rumbling of his car’s engine. “Your knight-in-shining-armor - your very own Sir Lancelot - is on his way to rescue you!”

“Great!” Pidge says with false cheer. Sure, Lance is coming to get her, but she’s still stranded in the rain after the weather service broadcast a flash flood warning to her phone. “Just don’t die because you’re talking on your phone while driving in the dark during a storm.”

“If the Galra and a bunch of other crazy aliens couldn’t kill me, this won’t.”

Pidge runs her fingers through her rain-soaked ponytail and grumbles, “It better not, so please put your phone away and concentrate on driving.”

“All right, fine,” Lance says, and she can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “I thought you found the sound of my voice soothing or something…”

Ah, right, she told him that a few nights ago when she made the mistake of calling him after a nightmare kept her from falling back to sleep.

"It's not like I'm about to have a panic attack now," Pidge bites.

"You sure you're okay, Pidge?"

The concern in his voice...startles her; is he worried a tsunami will wash her away too?

Well, she already decided that fear is completely irrational, so she forces a smile onto her face and says, "I'm fine now that I know you're on your way, Lance."

"Uh—" He breaks off with a cough before he falls silent, the only sound coming from her phone the low hum of his car's radio.

"Lance?" Pidge prompts. "Are you—"

"Fine!" Lance exclaims brightly. "Great since my car still has a working battery! I'll be there in ten minutes, so see you, Pidge!"

He hangs up without giving her the chance to reply.

Pidge, not a little confused, stares at her phone's screen until it darkens, her brow furrowed. She's known Lance for the better part of a decade, but his behavior can still be such a mystery to her, especially of late. It’s almost as if he l—

Maybe she should just take the direct approach and ask him if anything's eating at him.

Luckily Lance doesn't leave her with enough time to really puzzle over it. His car's headlights flash obnoxiously - the jerk has his high-beams on! - through her windshield as he pulls into the parking spot in front of hers. A heartbeat later the driver's door swings open and Lance steps out, opening a Sailor Moon umbrella.

(She makes a mental note to ask - or tease - him about it later, and she won't take "It's my niece's" for an answer.)

He raises a hand and waves, his face barely discernible through the water splattered on her windshield, but she opens her door when he rounds his car.

The sound of the rain was muffled with her ensconced insider her car, but now it hammers down, pattering against Lance's umbrella and hitting her face as she turns to him.

"Hope you didn't miss me too much," Lance says, voice louder than usual to make himself heard over the rain.

Pidge raises an eyebrow and points out, "I saw you at work on Thursday." Never mind that something in her chest loosens at the sight of the smile - warmer than this quiznaking miserable weather - curling his lips...

"And yet you were desperate enough to drain your battery just for an excuse to call me for help." Lance's smile morphs into a smirk that has the unfortunate side effect of both irritating and endearing her.

Pidge snorts and mutters, "As if I need an excuse." She presses the button to pop her hood open before turning back to Lance. "Where's the jumper cable?"

Lance jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "In my trunk. Just wanted to make sure you were okay first." His gaze drifts over her, making her skin crawl with heat, but then he assesses, "You look a little cold."

Pidge rubs her arms, his comment reminding her of her trembling. "No k-kidding, so can we hurry up and jumpstart my car?"

"Okay, okay." Lance raises the hand not holding onto his umbrella defensively. "I forgot how bossy you are."

"I'm not bossy!" she retorts, but by then he's already retreated to his car, the rain covering up the sound of her voice.

But not the sound of his feet splashing through puddles.

Pidge sighs. What are the odds Lance knows how to jumpstart a car? Will he know on which terminal the black clamp goes? Will she need to show him?

Lance is a pilot; of course he knows how to do something so simple as jumpstarting a car, especially if he owns a jumper cable! But Pidge should step outside and hover near him...just in case.

Pidge winces the instant water soaks into her shoes - she should've worn boots rather than sneakers - but follows Lance to the front of her car. His umbrella handle is tucked awkwardly under his arm while he works on attaching the clamps of the jumper cable to her car's battery, his brow furrowed rather sweetly in concentration, at least until Pidge takes the umbrella.

He glances up in surprise, turning to her with wide eyes before a slow grin stretches over his lips. "For a tick I thought you were going to make me do this alone."

"Maybe if it wasn't raining," Pidge teases. She raises the umbrella over both their heads, huddling under its poor approximation of shelter.

(Lance is a better source of warmth anyway.)

Lance attaches a red clamp to the positive terminal on her car's battery and the black clamp to something metal. She trails after him to his car but can't help wondering, "You shut the ignition off, right?"

Lance frowns at her. "Can't you see the engine isn't on, Pidge?"

She smiles sheepishly and says, "Yes, now that you point it out."

"Then quit micromanaging me."

She shivers as he attaches the remaining two clamps to his car's battery, rain soaking into her clothes despite her efforts to stay under the umbrella. Her cold fingers loosen around the handle, too stiff to hold on properly, and she can't help a relieved shudder when Lance tells her it's time.

Her engine roars into life, a gleeful laugh escaping her when Lance whoops over the sound of two engines and the rain. "Perfect," she mumbles. "Now to let it charge for a few minutes..."

Her engine shudders and dies.

"What?" Pidge exclaims, her heart jumping into her throat. She smacks the steering wheel - as if that'll do any good - and groans, "No..."

A tapping on her window makes her jump, and she opens her door to Lance, sans Sailor Moon umbrella with his hood pulled over his head. "Didn't last, huh?" he observes regretfully.

Pidge shakes her head, slouching. "I'll have to buy a new battery in the morning," she says, "and..." She bites her lip before wondering, "Can you give me a ride home?"

Lance meets her eyes before he smiles and says, "I'll do you one better. You can spend the night at my place, and in the morning I'll take you to buy the battery before bringing you back here."

Pidge's jaw drops, but when she recovers - though her cheeks still feel hot enough to warm the interior of her car if only all the doors were closed - she says, "Lance, you don't have to do that. I can call my dad tomorrow and—"

"So you'll make me drive twice more in the rain?" Lance says, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow - which, frankly, looks absurd with his hair plastered to his head and water dripping down his face. "And one of those times without you to supervise me and make sure I don't commit some atrocity like texting while driving?"

Pidge throws up her hands and asks, "What are you, a teenager who just got his license?"

"Nope." Lance leans down, close enough to her level she can imagine the warmth of his breath touching her forehead. "Just a concerned friend who wants to do you a favor."

"Do you...owe me something?" Pidge wonders suspiciously.

"Come on, Pidge!" Lance rests his hands on her shoulders and shakes her slightly. "Let's have a sleepover like we used to on the Castle! You'll get warm and dry and be able to fall asleep to the sound of my oh-so-soothing voice if you want"—is he...blushing?—"and I'll even feed you. I might even have some hot chocolate mix and bread for you to slap some of that peanut butter onto if you want."

"But...I need pajamas," Pidge protests, though she knows she's already fighting a losing battle. "And a toothbrush—"

"I have an unused one," Lance says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "and I'll lend you something to sleep in. So...what do you say?"

Pidge's jaw flaps uselessly, taking in his hopeful expression and wondering if she can really make an objective decision about this with her heart hammering - does she really want to spend the night with Lance? - and with his obviously faked guilt trip.

"Fine," Pidge grumbles. Lance grins so brightly, his fist pumping, that she can't help a smile of her own.

But that doesn't stop her from warning him, "On one condition: I am not sharing my peanut butter with you."

Lance's car hydroplanes twice on the way to his apartment complex a few blocks from Garrison premises. Pidge holds tight to her seat belt, her heart bouncing in her chest until tires touch wet asphalt again.

Both times, she turns to Lance and socks his shoulder before saying, "Quit trying to kill us!"

Both times, he screeches in indignation and rubs his shoulder before retorting, "Quit trying to kill me!"

Both times, she retorts, "I barely hit you!"

And both times, he snorts before rolling his eyes and smiling with a fondness that makes her heart skip a beat for a reason that has little to do with fear that he'll skid off a cliff or into an overflowing canal.

"Relax!" Lance says after the second time. "I've got this, Pidge. I've driven in the middle of a hurricane before, so this is nothing."

Pidge crosses her arms. "You do know I have your mom's contact information and I can literally call her to fact check that claim?"

Lance laughs but presses a hand to his chest. "Oh, Pidge, you wound me by not trusting your old war comrade's words." When she continues to stare at him with her lips pressed together, utterly unimpressed, he scratches his ear sheepishly and confesses, "Fine, it was just a dying tropical storm, but come on!" He gestures broadly and adds, "We've been in the middle of space dogfights, so this really is nothing."

Pidge, in the end, can't fight her smile at the reminder - for all the misery that all caused her and her family and her planet - but she turns to the rain-streaked passenger window to hide it. "Just keep both hands on the steering wheel," she mumbles.

"As you wish, my dear Pidge," Lance says almost snidely, and she's pleased when he actually listens.

His apartment is familiar - she's visited many times by day or dry evening to play video games or watch a movie while eating takeout from that bizarre "Earth-alien" fusion place on the corner - but the walk from Lance's assigned parking spot to the door on the second floor deck feels long in the downpour.

Before Pidge can open the passenger door, Lance's hand on her arm freezes her. "Wait," he says. "I'll come around with the umbrella so you don't get too wet."

"You don't have to—" But his door shuts behind him, and Pidge barely sets foot outside - right in a puddle that soaks into her sneakers and the hems of her poor leggings - when he's there to greet her.

"By the way," Pidge says as he raises the umbrella over both their heads and she unthinkingly loops her arm through his, "what's with the Sailor Moon?"

Lance flushes, but he hides it well by reaching around her to grab her grocery bag and shove it into her free arm. "It's my, uh, niece's."

Pidge smirks. "I knew you'd say that."

"Let's just go inside," he grumbles.

They hightail it, running awkwardly standing close together under the umbrella before they give up on it and sprint full tilt, splashing through puddles with raindrops hitting her face and soaking into her hair when her hood flies off her head.

Pidge storms up the stairs ahead of Lance, and when her foot nearly slips out from under her, her breath escaping her in shock, he catches her around the waist. But she doesn't pause to consider the imprint of his touch on her, and by the time he unlocks his door and they pile into the warmth of his apartment, Pidge is shivering too violently to do much more than stand in her soaked clothes and tremble.

Lance shucking off his own wet jacket is enough to get her to move. She tugs hers off, handing it to him to hang on a hook from the shower rod in the bathroom, before kicking off her sneakers and peeling off her disgustingly wet socks and sinking her toes into the warm carpet in front of a vent blasting hot air.

Pidge shudders in relief, squatting in front of it as she combs her fingers through her sodden ponytail. She'll have to do something about all the tangles now too...

Lance clears his throat behind her, and she stands to see him handing her a towel and a set of old clothes. "You can, uh, change in the bathroom. I'll be in...the bedroom...changing my own clothes."

"Right." Pidge watches him retreat, his back to her while she admires the way his soaked shirt clings to his shoulders and shows off how the muscles in his back move.

And then he pauses in his bedroom doorway to glance over his shoulder, his eyes widening when they catch hers.

Heat rushes to her face when he turns back around and stretches his arms over his head with a groan before tugging off his shirt.

Pidge spins on her heel and buries her face in the towel he gave her. Did he do that because she was watching?

"Quiznak," she curses, her voice muffled in fabric.

Despite the chill she just escaped, Pidge splashes cold water onto her face once she's safely ensconced in the privacy of the bathroom. She's just here to spend the night, to accept the favor Lance offered her with no strings attached (for now), to maybe chat and play games with him before she catches a few hours of sleep on his surprisingly comfortable sofa.

No, she won't think about running her fingers through his damp hair or tracing the Blue Lion tattoo that peeks out of his shirt collar or feeling his breath warming her face or press her lips against his like she's wanted to do for years.

No, she won't think about damaging almost a decade of friendship for a kiss he might not want.

(But what if he...does?)

Pidge changes into the clothes Lance provided - an old, baggy t-shirt and a pair of soccer shorts with drawstrings she has to tie very securely - and brushes her teeth with a toothbrush she finds under the sink buried in a stockpile of beauty and hygiene products. She leaves her hair in its ponytail and figures it’ll be one problem to tackle in the morning.

She emerges from the bathroom and heads straight for the kitchen, intent on the snack she craved enough to leave her own apartment to drive to Target in the middle of a dreary winter storm. She locates a bag of bread in the fridge and pops two slices in the toaster before shrugging and helping herself to a Granny Smith apple. She cuts it up and dips the slices directly into the jar of peanut butter.

That’s how Lance finds her, sitting on the kitchen counter munching on apple slices and crunchy peanut butter right as the toaster disgorges her burnt toast.

Pidge offers him the jar. “Want some?”

Lance - looking comfortable in a bathrobe over his pajamas - stands across from her and raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t sharing with me.”

“I changed my mind out of the kindness of my heart,” she deadpans before her sarcasm fails and she flashes him a smile. She shakes the jar and nods at the toast. “Hope you don’t mind that it’s a little burnt?”

Lance laughs. “Lucky for you, I don’t.” He takes the slices - wincing and gasping “ah!” when they prove too hot - and drops them into a plate before grabbing a knife.

They share their snack quietly, with Lance leaning against the counter beside her. And when it’s a little too much - when his arm brushing against hers makes goosebumps rise across her skin - Pidge blurts, “Thank you.”

Lance turns to her, his eyes wide. “For…what?”

She bites her lip and stares at a fleck of peanut butter stuck to her middle finger. “For coming to get me in the middle of a storm and letting me spend the night even though I live literally ten minutes away.”

Lance smiles when she dares to glance at him. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t invite you over?”

“A…sane one, maybe.”

He snorts and walks off to wash his hands at the sink. “Good thing I’m crazy about you then.”

“Yes, good—” Pidge stares disbelievingly at the back of his head, her breath catching and heat flooding her and…yes, Lance’s ears are definitely turning red. Maybe she misheard her or just misinterpreted him. He can’t possibly have said what she thinks he did. “What?”

She holds her breath as Lance turns to face her, something intense but…familiar in his gaze, almost trapping her in place. Her heart pounds too quickly as he approaches her, one step at a time, every second dragging yet passing so fast when he stands right in front of her too soon.

“Lance,” she says, and she might’ve hated how breathy it sounds if he didn’t capture her lips in his the instant his name escaped them.

He pulls away too soon, barely giving her the chance to reciprocate, but the heat in his eyes and his body so close to hers and her own swirling thoughts and rising emotion make her slow to react, her tongue tied into knots.

Until Lance wonders in a low voice that sends a shiver up her spine, “What’re you thinking, Pidge?”

“How fitting it is that our first kiss tasted like peanut butter,” Pidge says, because for some reason that’s the first thing that popped into her head.

Lance’s jaw drops - obviously he wasn’t expecting that - but then he chuckles and asks, “Why?”

“Because I love peanut butter.” She rests her hands on his shoulders and tugs him closer until he stands between her knees within easy kissing distance.

She takes advantage of it immediately.

Pidge kisses Lance in the way she almost convinced herself she never would, hungrily, with her lips parted over his and her fingers gripping his robe. One of his hands cradles the back of her head, and the other sits on her knee, his finger only just brushing against the bare skin of her thigh under her borrowed shorts.

Her heart races as she tears away to gasp for breath before finally telling Lance, “But I love you more than peanut butter.”

“Oh, good!” exclaims Lance with a dazzling smile that she matches. But he clears his throat and flashes her a smirk. “I mean…my work here is done. I was starting to worry I’d have to break you two up.”

Pidge rolls her eyes but wraps her arms around his neck and laughs while he embraces her around the waist. She threads her fingers through his hair and listens to the sound of his steady breathing, shoving away the memory of a time she feared she’d never hear it again.

Lance shifts just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Is there any way I can convince you to spend the night more often without sabotaging your car?” When Pidge’s eyes widen, he hurriedly adds, “Not that I did this time!”

Pidge giggles and says, “Maybe.”

His lips brush against hers as he murmurs, “Is ‘I love you too’ a good enough reason?”

Pidge’s chest is so warm she wonders how she almost froze in the rain barely an hour ago. She touches Lance’s cheek and says, “Help me replace my car’s battery. Then we’ll talk.”

[flippyspoon]

Billy didn’t stay in Hawkins because of Steve Harrington.

He didn’t get a job at the mall just because Steve Harrington was working there.

Billy didn’t have nightmares about beating up Steve Harrington and get drunk alone, mumbling different versions of how he might talk Steve Harrington into not hating him. Or he did, but it didn’t mean anything. Nothing meant anything, he told himself.

He didn’t take the job at Hot Dog on a Stick because it was right across from Scoops Ahoy, he told himself.

He didn’t keep Harrington in his eyeline whenever he went to a party and finally sum up the courage to spill what sounded like a half-assed apology though he’d meant it more than anything he could think of. He didn’t care that a couple hours later Steve had been leaning against him on Tina’s backstep, laughing at something he’d said, and that the next day he’d tossed Billy a friendly nod at the mall as he slapped that stupid sailor hat on his head because they were both hungover and annoyed they had to work.

Billy didn’t care at all that once he was friends with Steve Harrington the world seemed brighter and that Steve smiled more too even though he’d clearly been so miserable at Scoops.

Billy did not look forward to smoke breaks with Steve behind the mall like every single one was a little Christmas and let himself blatantly stare at Steve’s soft mouth and the way he leaned on the stucco wall that looked out on a bunch of dumpsters, one ankle crossed over the other, that little pair of blue shorts displaying all kinds of leg.

Billy didn’t stick around the food court long after his shift was over and the mall was closing because Steve was working out some problem with his register alone at Scoops. His heart didn’t flip when Steve smiled, seeing him leaning on his counter, their voices echoing in the now empty mall. Billy didn’t press his luck and come around the counter and take a cherry from the big jar and wait til Steve had figured out his receipts, just loitering and watching Steve bite his lip as his eyes skated over the numbers.

When Steve was done and he sighed and took off his hat, Billy didn’t lose it finally and grab Steve by that dumb red tie and pull him forward and kiss him and Steve didn’t kiss him back and that didn’t surprise the hell out of him. And Steve didn’t hop up on the counter and wrap his legs around Billy’s waist as he moaned into his mouth. That night Billy didn’t blow him and Steve never laughed into the crook of Billy’s neck as he shoved a hand down Billy’s pants. They didn’t make a huge mess and when they’d cleaned it up and trudged to their cars Billy wasn’t terrified it would all go away, his heart leaping when Steve pushed him up against the Camaro and kissed him and set his sailor hat on his head and winked at Billy and said, “See tomorrow, hot stuff.” And Billy didn’t grin and say, “Aye aye, Cap’n.” And Steve didn’t flip him off even though he was laughing.

Months after none of this ever happened, Steve was in his arms as they caught their breath in his bed. “I love you,” Steve said. “I think you love me too.”

Billy turned on his side and threw an arm over Steve and smirked and said, “You’re nuts, Harrington. Who do you think I am?” And he definitely didn’t kiss him long and slow for suggesting such a thing.