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crownedghostprince · 1 year ago

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Two Queens on a Chessboard (Descendants) pt 1

Evie x Female!Reader.

Fandom: Descendants.

(Y/N) is the daughter of Snow White. She’s been attending Auradon High for a little while now and Prince Ben, (the future King of Auradon) just declared he’ll be bringing over four VKs (Villain Kids) to help them choose their own destinies and not what their parents want for them. (Y/N) loves all things girly, cute, pink and fun...but she didn’t know “all things girly” included liking girls themselves.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None, this is just a cute, gay romantic and fluffy story.

Note: In this Evie is not at all related to Snow White or anything, as in this Timeline the Evil Queen did not marry Snow White’s father. Instead, she attempted to date her father and when he died he left a will claiming her to be trustworthy of everything he possessed until his daughter (Snow White) was of age to inherit it all (18) and that’s how the story goes in this world.

I hope that’s not confusing and enjoy!

Word Count: 2,700+ (roughly)

[First Person Perspective]

(This incredible picture of Evie belongs to ‘lilicohirukoma’ on Tumblr. Check her out, she has some fun relogs and other posts!)

I carefully observed as birds glided effortlessly across the sky, flapping their wings against the warm sun. The sunlight drifted through my open window, lighting up my sketchbooks and coloured pencils. I did my best to keep the wind from blowing my reference pictures off my desk as I drew the parrots above to the best of my ability. Their coloured feathers that lit up the world as they passed it by were my favourite thing about them. I was supposed to be getting dressed for the day, or at least doing something more productive, but I felt too at peace to move.

It took my mother knocking at my door to get me away from my desk to let her in. Her pale skin came into view as the door swung open. I reluctantly met her brown eyes as she spoke, clearly upset, “(Y/N) you should be dressed already! I don’t care for these Villain Kids, or whatever Prince Ben is planning with them, but I’ll be damned if I let you leave the house not looking like royalty. I swear, sometimes you forget you’re my daughter.” She scolded, entering my room and shutting the door behind us so she could dress me in the outfit I chose. “Look at this! It’s so pink the pink tax could charge you twice for it!”

“Very funny, mother.” I rolled my eyes and started to undress, letting her pull the pink dress over my head as she continued to comment on it. While we were both distracted a couple of the parrots from earlier flew to the windowsill and watched.

“There’s so many frills I can’t see the bloody hem! Do you think they added enough sparkles? I swear this dress has more sparkles than the Fairy Godmother’s magic spells.”

“I think it’s a charming dress.”

“Charming? Charming would be blinded by this dress’ glow!” She scoffed, continuing to do up the corset and back bow. The dress I chose to meet the Villain Kids in was a cute 1950s, Rock ‘n’ Roll inspired dress with the skirt reaching my knees with lots of frills, a bow in the back and lots of sparkles. The top part of the dress was shaped with a scoop neckline and a simpler design aside from the corset so the skirt could catch people’s eyes first. The skirt was the main focus of the dress and the top simply blended quite nicely.

I had chosen matching pink high heels, my nails were done with an almond shape in a very light pink colour. Imagine white but with a tinge of pink, that’s the colour. I was in love with the outfit and I even did my hair in a cute 1950s curly side bun hairstyle with a cute pink bow in my hair. Can you tell I love pink? I chose silver jewelry to match, a simple necklace and bracelet and some studded earrings.

But back to the present moment, my mother had finished doing up my corset and my outfit was finished with the added jewelry that she helped me put on. She looked me up and down and shook her head. “How did we go from my blue and yellow to your blinding pink?” She sighed, putting her hand to her cheek as she tilted her head. She doesn’t like pink all that much, she says only Aurora and her child, Audrey, should dress in pink as it’s ‘their colours’.

“Mother, you know I’m not a big fan of yellow. Besides, I do wear blue! I was just in a pink mood today.” I explained even though we’ve had this conversation many times.

“I know, darling. I just sometimes wonder who you get your personality from. You don’t really act like your father or I at all.” She stated completely ignoring that fact that I do many things she did at 17 years of age. I guess she just blocked out those memories like most parents.

“Well, sometimes a little sugar needs some spice.” I simply replied by saying our phrase. She was always considered the sweetest princess and queen, which she was, and when I grew up to be quite more lively and sassy I was nicknamed her ‘spice’.

“Well, Little Miss Spice better grab her purse and leave for school if she wants to meet those Villain Kids so badly.” She smiled. I returned her smile and we both turned to my desk where my pink purse was and we noticed our audience. The two parrots from earlier were there, but a squirrel, a bluebird and a doe had joined the window, watching with interest.

Like my mother, I naturally attracted animals and got along wonderfully with them. But sometimes it was a bit unnerving to realize you’re never truly alone when you live right near the forest. Oh, right, we live on the edge of Auradon, just outside a magnificent forest filled with many creatures - magical and non-magical - in a cozy castle. It was more a mansion styled as a castle, but the comment stands.

“I’ll, uhm, be on my way then.” I cleared my throat and grabbed my purse, giving the animals all a pet before turning back to my mother. She sighed and gave me a quick hug, being careful not to smudge my makeup and eyeliner.

“Just promise me you’ll be safe and you won’t get too close to any of those children.” She looked at me sternly. Although it would be more intimidating if she wasn’t slightly shorter than me.

“I promise, mother.” I smiled and kissed her forehead before jogging out the door and waving, “Bye!! I’ll see you tonight!” I skipped down the halls and a couple of the house mice joined me before running from our cat, Sherlock.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡

Finally, I arrived via limo to Auradon High. Kids my age had already started gathering and the band was practicing before the kids arrived. I stepped out, “Thank-you, Mister Desmond!”

“Have a lovely day at school, Miss White.” He waved with his soft smile.

“I will! Goodbye!” I closed the door and skipped up to my two best friends: Jane and Elin. Jane was the daughter of the Fairy Godmother and Elin was the daughter of Elsa. Elin has ice powers like her mother, except her powers are smaller in scale and easier for her to control. Well that’s what she told me, but I’ll never know for sure. “Hey, Elin! Hey, Jane!” I called, finally skipping up to them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” They both greeted - Jane a little more nervous than Elin.

“Are you excited to meet the VKs?” Elin asked excitedly. Her soft blue eyes lit up as she smiled and finished braiding her white hair. It was pretty long so it took her some time but it was always so worth it. She was almost as good as Rapunzel’s daughter when it came to braiding hair.

“I’m really excited to meet them! I really hope they don’t cause us any trouble...I feel like they’ll be really cool to befriend!” I answered, bouncing up and down a little.

“I’m not thrilled. I hope they leave as quickly as they come.” Jane gulped, nervously picking at her fingernails - an anxious habit she’d had for a while now. I took her hands and squeezed them slightly.

“Don’t worry I’m sure they won’t bother us much. They’ll probably think we’re all too prissy and princess-y to be worth bothering.” I reassured her. She smiled slightly but still looked worried.

“I’m more concerned about my mother forcing me to meet them and be near them more than I would like...” She whispered uncertainly. We both looked over at her mother who stood beside Prince Ben and his girlfriend Audrey at the front of the gathering, just in front of the band. My mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as I realized what she meant.

Her mother was always so extroverted and confident and Jane was the total opposite, being more on the shy and reserved side. “I’m sure she’ll take it easy on you, vennen.” (Darling) Elin reassured her in her thick Norwegian accent, placing her hands on Jane’s shoulders and giving her a little playful shake which elicited a little giggle from Jane. “Besides, if you stick with us, we’ll protect you from them!” Elin grinned and gave the air a couple fake punches to prove her point.

“Yeah! And I’ll wear so much pink it would make any Villain gag from 30 meters away!” I laughed and Jane cracked a smile. Before any of us could joke around any more a hush fell over the group as Fairy Godmother clapped her hands three times like a primary school teacher and then shouted orders.

“Everyone hush!! Listening ears and smiling faces on! They’re coming down now! Look bright and lively everybody! Here we go!!” She cheered and we all did our best to match her over bubbly personality. Jane passed Elin and I some small flags made for occasions like this. We excitedly waved them in the air as everyone cheered and the band started up once again. It wasn’t the best welcome song, but it was pretty impressive considering they’d only had a week until now to practice.

The limo pulled up and the chauffeur opened the door. We watched two boys tumble out, hushing us all with their arguing and battle for some piece of cloth. Eventually a purple-haired woman stepped out and then followed a gorgeous blue-haired woman. Her outfit, her hair, her smile - she was absolutely adorable. I couldn’t stop staring and Elin had to physically close my dropped jaw with her hand.

Elin chuckled and gave me a discreet thumbs up, having hinted at me being bisexual in the past. But...I always denied it. I blushed and avoided eye-contact, my eyes slowly drifting back to the gorgeous girl rocking a stunning blue outfit and looking like she was a princess straight out of a fairy tale book. I was especially in awe of her style. She clearly had a good sense of fashion and she held her head high with confidence as she walked.

Her dress was a strange, but gorgeous, mix of leather with a blue jeans-inspired design and something similar to what the ‘Evil Queen’ from my mother’s past would wear. She had a cute headband that matched and her whole outfit looked handmade, down to every seam. She wore a contrasting red apple necklace; black, finger-less gloves and matching black and white tights. Finally, I noticed how her hair was slightly curled, a bit like mine currently was, but her hair was fully let down and swayed in the gentle breeze. She seemed ecstatic to be here and looked at everything like a small child seeing their biggest wish come true.

Elin snapped me out of my daze once again and we all watched as Fairy Godmother greeted them with her usual happy-go-lucky, primary school teacher attitude and then she introduced Prince Ben and Princess Audrey. Prince Ben made sure to greet them all individually by shaking their hands and welcoming them, pausing a bit on the purple-haired woman and then continuing on afterwards. I couldn’t see Audrey’s face but ever since her betrothal to Prince Ben I assumed she was pissed he wasn’t giving her all his attention.

Although that sounds ridiculous, I know Audrey very well. She’s a very arrogant, ignorant woman who loves power and fame and money. She cares little for other people, especially those actually in need of aid. I remember watching once as she offered no food to a begging woman. I made sure to buy some extra bread and cheese for the lady. It wasn’t much, but she was thankful and that made me smile. But for Audrey to pass her by without even acknowledging her? Horrible.

We watched as Fairy Godmother wrapped it up and finished talking with everyone. Prince Ben and Princess Audrey began leading them to the school, giving them a bit of a tour and talking about the history whilst everyone else in the area scattered and cleaned up any confetti. I caught eyes with the beautiful blue-haired woman and we both paused for a second. Even from a distance I could tell she was the daughter of The Evil Queen and she could probably tell I was Snow White’s daughter. I felt my cheeks heat up and all I could do was smile, curtsy and wink and then quickly catch up with my friends.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡

“Pleaseee that was so embarrassingggg!!!” I whined into Elin’s pillow. Elin laughed in amusement from her office chair. Elin was staying in a dorm room with Jane at the school as she travelled very far to attend and Jane stayed in the dorm room because she hated travelling such a long distance to school every day.

“I’m sure she found it cute, vennen min.” (My friend) Elin shook her head as she spoke. I looked up from the pillow more and stared pointedly.

“I assure you she probably did not, liebling.” (Darling) I tossed the pillow back onto her bed before standing up from the floor. I brushed my clothing off and checked how I looked in Jane’s vanity mirror.

“How do you know? You don’t! In fact...there’s only one way of truly knowing.” Elin grinned. I watched her from the mirror as I fixed up my makeup before deciding to ask the dreaded question.

“And...how would I go about finding that out?” I turned around and Elin stood up excitedly.

“At school tomorrow,” She grabbed my shoulders, “Introduce yourself and get to know her.”

“I--...I mean you’re not wrong, but...how would I even go about approaching her?”

“Well if you see you share a class, greet her then! Maybe when you’re both leaving and also see what other classes you share!”

“Elin, mausebär. (Mouse) That’s incredible thinking! You’re absolutely right! I can just meet her at classes and then move from there!” Elin and I giddily did a little dance on the spot.

“That’s the spirit!! Overcome your fears!” She cheered, her soft blue eyes sparkling with delight. She began tossing little snowflakes above us like confetti. “Jippi!” (Yay) She cheered.

We spent the rest of our time together with Jane, enjoying our lunches, joking and dancing around and doing each others hair whilst watching some movies like ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ and ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’. We had a lot of fun like we originally planned. This day spent together and movie night is how we usually spend our last day before school. My mother’s fine with me staying out until midnight, so I was able to do that again.

I tiredly said my goodbyes to Elin and Jane, hugging them both before I followed Fairy Godmother to the front door of the school. We talked quietly, careful of the sleeping students. “I’m glad you and Elin are friends with Jane.” She smiled softly, looking up at the moon as we waited for Mister Desmond to arrive. “She’s so shy and closed off. I still remember the day she came home from middle school, ecstatic and talking fast. She was so happy to have friends she didn’t say a single word correctly.”

I grinned, remembering how I first met Jane by walking into a wall right in front of her and balling my eyes out immediately at the slightest drop of blood that was created by the impact. She’d always been such a kind person. She leapt straight into making sure I was okay, screaming for Elin to help us both when poor Elin herself was lost. Luckily our gym teacher was nearby and helped us get to the nurse’s office where we all sat crying and apologizing.

It was a silly way to meet, but I wouldn’t change it for anything else in the world. I was so distracted talking to Fairy Godmother and thinking back on my childhood days with Elin and Jane, I completed missed the four students hiding in a bush just outside the school - waiting for us to leave so they could sneak back inside. When I finally spoke up to Fairy Godmother about how we met, as Jane never coherently told her mother, I also missed Evie’s soft smile as she pictured the scenario I was describing.

It was a perfect night and a perfect start to a new school year...and a future relationship.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡

(Part 2 coming soon!)

#evie daughter of the evil queen #descendants x reader #descendants #romance #girly reader #evie x reader

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silvers-not-home · 4 months ago

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my lame fucking autistic rambling

here's my massive stupid autistic rant about life series characters and my head canons for them

literally everything i'm thinking about is going on here im not even processing it im just typing sorry for any typos there will be many😭

this is also for my two (2) mutuals who i care for very deeply kiss kiss hug hug <3 /p /gen

okay it's the morning so i'm gonna continue this thumbs up emoji

starting off strong with mr grian minecraft himself (oh wow what a surprise /s)

he tried piercing his own nose in highschool. like. he was THE teenage dirtbag. sneaking out, drinking, smoking, shitty garage band that got nowhere (yes the bad boys was a garage band you c ant change my mind), mcr, pierce the veil, paramore, sexuality and gender crisis, "i know a guy", shoplifting, skipping class, you name it be probably did it with jimmy and joel during freshmen-sophomore year

pearl is his sister, jimmy and lizzie are his cousins (older cousins i should specify. him and pearl are twins but she's the older twin) and they went to the same high school. he met joel through lizzie and jimmy and joel and grian all clicked instantly

joel would stay at jimmy and grians place so much to the point it was like a second home to him and they would all hang out in the basement. joel stayed with his grandparents and helped them out a lot but they passed while he was in his bad boys phase and so he just stayed at grians place a whole lot during his depression (don't worry he's fine now just a little fucked up but they all are)

grian and pearls parents were kinda really shitty (yes i'm also counting yhs lore fuck uou) his whole life and so they got taken by cps and they lived with jimmy and lizzie's parents. and they were much better until he went to japan and all that shit happened (iykyk)

sam made him really realize that like. "oh my fucking god i'm gay. and it's for a damn sociopath. fuck." (that's like half canon)

he and taurtis DID hook up every tuesday thumbs up emoji

his wings didn't start growing in until AFTER senior year (so post japan/yhs incident)

the yhs holds a ceremony thingy for all the people that passed during all that shit and he goes every year and still has rowens glasses and ran into taurtis one year and it was awkward as HELLL but like. it wasn't an awful experience neither of them knew what to say. especially taurtks is bc by then grians wings had already fully grown in and his ass DID NOT recognize him💀

oh yeah also the four of the cousins are all winged animals so grians a parrot, pearl is a moth but like she's one of the super fluffy one (i forgot what they're called), jimmy is a canary (for obvious reasons), and lizzie is a flamingo because. fuck it (also half canary too it's from their mom) but she doesn't have as many features as the others

they all grow feathers (except for pearl) when they're stressed or feel a heightened emotion and have the little winged ears. they still do have actual ears but they grew in behind they're human ears and pearl has the little antennae things on top of her head. lizzie's kind of blends into her hair since yk. pink on pink and they're more folded then fanned out(?) if that makes sense?😭

jimmy was an early bloomer while grian was a late bloomer (i'm talking about wing/feather wise)

also some little sexuality/gender headcanons those are always fun :3

grians definitely trans masc and mlm (he/him anything else gives him dysphoria)

jimmy is THE bisexual demiboy icon (he/they)

lizzie is also bisexual (she/they)

pearl is a NONBINARY LESBIANNNN SHOUT OHT YO ALL MY NONBINARY LESBIANS WOOOO (she also uses any pronouns that would be considered feminine/androgynous or basically just. anything other then he/him/anything masculine)

mumbo is ace and omni (they/he)

scar is pan and a demiboy (all pronouns. like seriously he's collecting them like pokémon cards)

tango is bi and TRANSMASC WOOOO SHOUT OUT TO ALL MY TRANSMASC PEOPLE OUT THERE (he/they/flame)

martyn is transmasc and unlabeled. he doesn't want one/or thinks any is fit for him but is on the aspec (he/him)

scott is just. gay. goddamn fa- (he/him)

also just thought abt something grian jimmy and joel all had matching (infected and now faded) stick and poke tattoos that read "bad boys, today, tomorrow and yesterday" but that last part is faded completely since they ran out of pen ink halfway through and jimmys mom came home and they didn't wanna get in trouble (also yes their tattoos are in the same spot as each others it's on the right side of their chest) and let me TELL YOU. lizzie makes fun of joel TO THIS DAY about that tattoo and she likes to trace the words with her finger sometimes when they're cuddling, humming their old songs (he hates it but she still thinks it's absolutely adorable)

grian and mumbo are middle school best friends and he knows everything that happened to grian when he was in japan

grian, scar and mumbo all went to the same high school and mumbo and scar tried making a baking club called (you're never gonna believe this) the buttercups but grian was supposedly "too cool for that fairy shit" but would hang out during lunch with them and go to the meetings and help buy the ingredients and also help bake with them for extra credit and so would jimmy and joel. for extra credit of course

tango, mumbo and impulse were all in the computer club and coding club in highschool. doc was their teacher and cub was the senior teachers assistant trying to get early college credit

jimmy had the FATTEST crush on tango while they were in high school (yes they all went to the same highschool shut up) and tried impressing him by "making" a robot (mumbo made it and gave him the remote and told him to push two single buttons) and he pushed them in the wrong order and it short circuited and it almost exploded. he got suspended for a month and the only reason he didn't get expelled was because tango said it was his and it was a project. he complemented "jimmys" robot and said it had nice coding and a bunch of other nerd /aff terms that didn't make ANY sense to jimmy (that was his way of confessing but jimmys too stupid /aff to understand it at the moment so tango thought he didn't like him back) and when jimmy was talking to grian and joel about it they were yelling at him about how "JIMMY YOU IDIOT HE LIKES YOU BACK" and "WHAT'D YOU SAY? YOU SAID YOU LIKED HIM TOO RIGHT?" to which he (of course) responded with

"NO?? I DONT SPEAK NERD JOEL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW??"

also tango wears a feather jimmy gave to him as an earring and has kept that earring since they started going out which was like sophomore year or smth like that

they also had an exact conversation to joel before lizzie asked him out (and she also proposed too fight me)

i can go on for HOURS about those three but i'm gonna a do stuff about martyn now because. omg. he drives me CRAZY

also just realizing how most of these are just high school head canons. sorry (no i'm not)

everyone in school always thought that the bad boys were the mean bullies bc they wore leather jackets and studs and cuffs and blah blah blah but in reality they were just the dorky, socially anxious losers that were loud in class because they all adhd. not because they were asshole

martyn and scott were the ones you had to worry about (mostly scott actually but martyn would be a passive aggressive bully)

those little twits had an actual burn book. martyn. the almost loser that pierced his own ears, causing them to get infected but refused to take them out because he wanted to match with his fellow mean gill and wore anime shirts to sleep and doc martins (only because they had his name in it dont praise him he was a loser /aff) wrote "annoying dorks" in the burn book page dedicated to the bad boys. he had NO ROOM to talk and i find that hilarious bc him and jimmy were actually really close and he ate the page. yes. he ate the page in front of scott's face after an argument to prove a point and scott has never respected another person more in his life

i also felt like it was important that martyn and scott got voted prom king and queen

martyn LOVES necklaces, rings, bracelets. he has a matching necklace and/or bracelet with all his four (4) friends that consisted of scott and the bad boys. he still has them as an adult and holds onto the charm when he misses them which is all the time (i love martyn angst evil laugh)

ykw fuck it he still wears the necklaces and tucks them under his shirt, he asked everyone else if they still had theirs and it either broke or they lost it

EVERYOEN EXCEPT FOR JIMMY BC THEY WERE CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS AND HE WEARS IT UNDER HIS SHIRT TOO FUCK YOU I LOVE THEM

and for anyone curious it was a dog bone that is split in half and it like one of those magnetic necklaces that you have to get uncomfortably close to eachother for it to work

okay that's enough for tonight bc i have things i need to do tomorrow and thumbs hurt and it threw in the morning and i've been typing for over an hour straight good night cleveland *proceeds to stay online for another hour*

#FUCK K FROGLT I HAVE TO TAG THIS GODDAMNIT #traffic series #trafficblr #trafficshipping #grian #jimmy solidarity #joel smallishbeans #tangotek #ldshadowlady #yhs??#i guess #headcanon #life series headcanon #what else is there #uhhhh #oh right #martyn inthelittlewood #scott smajor #whatever i'm gonna update this tmrw anyways

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allbark-no-bite · 1 year ago

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i’ve been meaning to tell you.

icemav (wc: 4.4k)

summary: to love a man is to tear the other apart and ruin each other ruthlessly. OR the fic Ice’s dad is the worst and Maverick loves Ice anyway

warnings: 18+ smut, mentions of violence, blood, homophobia, and vomiting

authors note: i’m sorry guys, the little gay pilots just do it for me. apologies for the half ass ending. title taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘seven’

————————————————————————

What a lot of people tend to forget about Maverick Mitchell is that he grew up a younger brother. So not only was his old man knocking him around— that is when he was actually around— but his older brother too. Mav had to learn how to defend himself by whatever means necessary, whether that meant kicking and screaming or taking a swing. He's got just as much scrappiness in his body as a hungry stray dog. It tends to get him in trouble.

Today in the locker room is no different.

They've all just been released from training for the day and have flocked to the locker room to shower. Today's flight didn't go particularly well for Maverick, but that's not totally unusual. They all have bad days, and he's just so happened to fall upon a streak of bad luck. But unfortunately enough, a bad day in the air for Maverick means a good day in the air for Tom Kazansky. And the blonde pilot is not about to let him forget it.

The shit-talking begins the moment Maverick enters into the locker room. He intentionally allows the door to swing shut behind him in the feeble hope that it will catch the pilot who is hot on his heels behind him.

Much to his disappointment, Ice catches it with his palm right before it hits him in his perfect face. "You're pathetic, honestly, Mitchell. I mean were you even trying out there? I got a lock on you faster than if it was my grandma flying out there."

"Isn't your grandma dead?" is the comment that comes from the obnoxiously tall, lumbering oaf of a man beside him.

Has he also mentioned that he hates Slider's dumbass face? He's nothing but a dick with legs. Maverick is beginning to think the RIO shares a brain cell with his pilot because he's never heard Ice say something without Slider parroting along with his own smart ass comment.

The remark is too much for Goose— who Maverick is constantly having to remind himself that he adores— and even at the expense of his best friend, can't contain himself. He latches onto Maverick's shoulder in an attempt to keep himself upright whilst his head falls back into the shrieking laugh that is reminiscent of his call sign. If Slider wasn't so insufferably stupid, Maverick might would hate him a little bit for it. Instead he shoves his spindly RIO away from him and slams his locker shut to face Ice.

"You know, maybe if I screwed up your face, Slider here wound't be so keen to kiss your ass all of the time."

Ice takes a step towards him so that they're face to face, even if he does have to look down to be eye level with the brunette pilot. Maverick has to shove down the urge to rise up on his toes just so that they're even. He would never hear the end of that. So instead he plants his feet into the ground and steels himself against Ice's looming presence.

Ice sneers down at him, bearing his teeth just how he does when he smiles, taunting and cocksure. "We'll have a go when you learn how to make a fist, Mitchell."

Maverick smirks. "Wouldn't you like that, Kazansky?" His green eyes are blazing with what anyone watching might would interpret as righteous anger. He and Ice both know it's something else. It's all a game. A game that is so synchronized and well rehearsed that neither of them are willing to give it up just yet. Because when you know the rules, when you know just what buttons to push without it blowing up in your face, the game is safer that way.

It took them a while to get to this point, to realize that they didn't actually hate each other. There was a lot of growing pains and moments of uncomfortable realization. Mav came into Topgun with a chip on his shoulder and everything to prove, and then there was Ice, who had it all. He was charismatic and smart and funny— everything Maverick was without the debilitating strain of an estranged father who fucked off into the sky one day and never returned. And Maverick hated him for that. Hated him until he walked into the locker room one day and heard Ice's dad screaming at him over the phone.

"—no goddamn son of mine will call themselves a homosexual. As long as you have my last name—"

Ice had hung up as soon as he heard Maverick behind him, choking out a "Look, I have to go, Dad. I'm sorry— Yes, sir. Yes sir, I understand. Bye."

Maverick had just stood there at first, pretending he didn't see Ice wiping his eyes, didn't even comment as Ice cleared a sob from his throat. After that Ice just stood there staring at him, as though just waiting for Maverick to bring it up.

Finally, Maverick just laughed. "Guess we both have some pretty mean old men," was all he said. He never brought up the part about Ice's dad calling him a homosexual, but after that it was just kinda understood.

Ice was gay.

And that— that changed everything. They were still always at each other's throats. Still taunted and teased and took things too far, only for a different reason now. With DADT in place, it was the only thing they could do.

It's just that now they've been playing this game for far too long, without it ever resulting to anything, and the tension between them has built up thick enough to be cut by a knife.

Ice seems to realize this because he somehow grins even wider. "C'mon then. What're you waiting for, Mitchell?" He adds, "Hell, I'm sure you could do it if you tried hard enough."

Maverick passes his tongue over the bridge of his teeth, and turns his head away, as if he's contemplating the invitation. To everyone around them, it looks as though Maverick's going to backdown. Really, it's to conceal the smile that has crept onto his face. Everyone should know by now that it's not like him to backdown from a challenge.

As his best friend and RIO, Goose should have seen this one coming.

Just when it looks like he's going to step away, Maverick shifts his weight on his heels and swings. Ice flinches back just a fraction of a second too late, and Maverick's fist connects with the left side of his jaw. It sends a shock ricocheting back through Maverick's arm and radiates from his knuckles all the way up to his elbow. Because the blonde pilot does have some size on him, it's not enough to send him toppling over, but Ice does have to catch himself, his hand lifting up to grab his jaw once he recovers.

It feels so good that Maverick hardly notices the clamor of the other pilots around them or Goose grabbing at the sleeve of his flight suit. He watches as Slider and Sundown rush over to help Ice, but he shrugs them off. When he straightens, there's a mar of red on his jaw where Maverick's fist had been, and his bottom lip is busted, already swelling up purple and staring to bleed.

Maverick stares at him, breathing hard in satisfaction. Despite the pain that is still sparking though his knuckles, he knows he's not above the rules of chivalry, and he offers Ice his hand—

—And finds himself sprawled out on the ground a mere second later. He must blackout for a moment because when he comes to, Ice is crouched down in front of him and there's pain pulsing from his cheekbone. Maverick squeezes his eyes shut, already feeling the beginnings of a migraine, and he wonders if he might have a concussion. Now that would really be something.

When he opens his eyes, Ice is still in front of him. The blonde pilot is smirking, his blue eyes alight with amusement despite just having been nailed in the face. "I warned you didn't I, Mitchell?"

Most of the attention their fight had originally drawn has dispersed, the pilots around them likely sensing that Ice had dutifully settled the score and that there was no more to be seen. Ever faithful, Goose is lingering just a few steps away, waiting to intervene should he be needed.

Slowly, he looks back to the pilot crouched before him. As much as Maverick hates to say it, Ice looks good when he's a little roughed up.

"Is that really all you've got?" he manages. What he means is, I'd let you punch me any day of the week if only it meant that we got to be this close.

"Maverick—" comes Goose's worried sounding voice of reason.

Ice just smiles, humoring him. "Tell you what, Mitchell. If you can even stand up straight, we'll go again."

They both know that's not going to happen. His head is pounding so hard right now that he might would be sick if he tried to stand up. Still, Maverick snarls at him comically though the pain. "Coward." But there's no bite to it.

Again, all Tom can do is smile. "C'mon," he says. He offers Maverick his hand and pulls him to his feet, throwing the brunette pilot's arms around his shoulders to take on most of his weight. "Let's go find you some ice."

Goose can only shake his head and watch them go.

And that was how it went. That was how they got by without losing their minds. If they couldn't love each other then they'd hate each other enough to make up for it.

They both know the risks. One wrong word and they're dead. All it takes is for the wrong person to hear the wrong thing, interpret an interaction the wrong way.

No one talks about it but everyone know what happens to sailors who let on that they're too friendly with their shipmates. Maverick's heard it before, some poor lieutenant screaming in the middle of the night, drug from his own bed and beaten until he's unrecognizable, and all you can do is roll over and pray for the screaming to stop. Because if you intervene you're just as guilty.

It happens more often than anyone would think, the Navy just keeps quiet about it. It's called don't ask don't tell for a reason.

It's probably the same reason as to why no one has questioned the fact that the Iceman has not once gone home with a girl from the O-Club in the entire six weeks that they have been stationed at Topgun.

His disinterest is almost comical. At any given second of the night, the blonde pilot has got girls crawling all over him. There is almost always one hanging off of his arm, gazing up longingly at him as he tries not to spill his drink, another with a delicate hand to his chest as she giggles and laughs at something he didn't even think was that funny.

Ice doesn't seem to mind the attention, but he doesn't care to feed into it either. Not even the feel of the girl to his left placing her hand a little too high up on his thigh is enough to stir his dick in his pants. It's been a long time since he's been with a girl, probably since his freshman year at the academy. Before he realized that he was gay. And even if he was hankering to get laid, which he isn't, he wouldn't consider taking one of them home. Unlike a lot of guys at the bar, he had morals, and that meant not pretending to be into it with some poor girl just to get his dick sucked.

Regardless, Maverick thinks it's really fucking distracting.

Them with their wandering hands all over Ice, it really makes his blood boil. Who were they to get to touch him like that in front of everyone.

Ice glances over and their eyes lock for a brief moment. Cheeks flaming, Maverick has to tear his eyes away. He hadn't realized he was staring until Goose swings an arm over his shoulder and places a beer in his hand. "You keep staring and he's going to come over here and beat your ass again."

Maverick sputters. "Wha—? I wasn't—"

Smiling knowingly, Goose pats his chest. "I'm just saying. No one's going to say anything about two guys having a drink together at the bar. But if you keep up with whatever the hell all of this sexual tension filled staring is about, people are going to notice and he's going to knock your lights out for real this time."

Maverick glares at him. Goose had figured out that Maverick was bi pretty early on, way back in their roommate days at the academy, but it had taken him until last week in the locker room to realize that the brunette pilot's apparent hate for his wingman was really just a hopeless middle school crush disguised by toxic masculine bravado. Now Goose has taken it upon himself to get them together. Of course that's what any good best friend would do, but if Goose has to watch the two of them flirt with each other like a bunch of sexually frustrated peacocks any longer, he might wash his own eyes out with bleach.

"Now here's what I suggest you do—"

"Maverick."

Freezing, they both slowly turn around. Maverick already knows who it is. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

Ice is standing behind them, a fresh beer in his hand. The girls from earlier are now nowhere to be seen, Maverick notes. "Ice," is all he says back, every other word in his vocabulary seemingly lost.

Really, if Goose hadn't just been in the backseat of a multimillion dollar aircraft that Maverick was flying just a few hours before, he would think the man was incompetent. Goose pats Maverick's chest before removing his arm from around his shoulders and excusing himself. "Guess that's my queue to leave, kids. I'll be over there. Way, way, over there." Before Maverick can stop him, he's disappearing into the sea of white by the bar.

And then it's just them standing together off to the side of the bar.

Ice clears his throat. "You wanna step outside, get some air?"

And because he doesn't know how else to respond to that, because he's certainly not going to tell him no, he shrugs. "Sure."

They walk outside together, or more like Maverick follows Ice out like a confused looking duckling, and Ice brings them to a stop just in front of the railing of the porch. And then he just stands there, looking out into the parking lot. Maverick lingers a few paces behind him, wondering whether or not he's supposed to join him. He tries to tell himself to relax because like Goose said, there's nothing wrong with two guys having a drink together, and maybe that's all that this is, but it certainly hadn't felt like it when they made eye contact back in the bar.

Finally, Ice asks, "Mitchell, your old man ever hit you for no good reason?" The way he asks it, it feels more like a confession than a question.

Shoulders dropping, Maverick lets out a breath of air that he'd been holding onto, and it kinda comes out as an amused laugh. "Yeah, man... Y'know sometime I think he did it just for fun. My brother too."

For the first time since they've walked outside, Ice glances sideways at him. "You've got a brother?"

"Yeah, I was younger by like six years though."

Ice's mouth twitches up into a smile. "That explains a lot."

Maverick shoves him, not hard, but it's enough to make the blonde pilot beside him sway a little to the side as he moves to lean against the railing beside him. Once Ice settles, they're shoulder to shoulder, their sides pressed into each other. Too close for explanation should someone question them.

"What about your old man?" Mav asks. He's not sure he would have ever brought up Ice's father under normal circumstances but this isn't a normal conversation.

Ice just shakes his head. "We don't talk all that much anymore unless he's calling to yell at me... You heard."

Maverick nods, taking in what Ice is telling him in. Of course he's known or at least assumed all of these things, but it's different hearing them out loud.

"Maverick, you know I'm... That's why my dad—"

Maverick straightens and Ice stops talking and follows him, the two pilots turning to face each other.

"You trying to tell me something, Iceman?" Maverick asks, smothering a smile.

Although they're not quite the same height, they're eye to eye, and for once it feels like they're equals. Ice's blue eyes glint dangerously.

Maverick's heart is pounding in his chest.

"It's Tom. And yeah, maybe I'm trying to tell you something."

In the barely lit front porch of the bar, where he's sure no one can see them, Maverick reaches out to touch him. His fingers skim along the crisp white fabric of Tom's uniform, tentative at first, until he's sure he is actually going to let him touch him. When the blonde pilot doesn't immediately pull away, Maverick's fingers curl into the fabric at his side, tugging him forcefully closer so that their bodies are pressed together and he can lean up to connect their mouths. As if equally as prepared to reciprocate the kiss, Tom's hands fist into Maverick's uniform, half untucking his shirt in the process. Their mouths clash together, forcing the other open while their tongues fight for a taste.

There's nothing glamorous about it. Maybe if they hadn't been so desperate for this moment it would have been, but there no stopping them now. Ice kisses him with every ounce of emotion that he's been keeping inside, and Maverick reciprocates it with the same vigorousity, chasing after his mouth when Ice draws away for a breath. No sooner than he does and they're kissing again.

Ice is so engrossed in the taste of Maverick's mouth, the warmth of his swollen lips, that he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Maverick's palm at his crotch. He doesn't even have the time to be embarrassed when the other pilot snickers at him because his dick is reminding for the first time in months that it actually works. Ice's hips roll into Maverick's palm, begging for more.

If Maverick had been waiting for permission, Ice's response is all he needs. He palms him again, firmer this time, and feels Ice hardening in his hand. At the same time, Maverick runs his tongue along the pout of Ice's bottom lip, catching it gently between his teeth when Ice groans into his mouth. His hand rubs at the now bulging crotch of Ice's uniform, and it makes the blonde's hip stutter.

Maverick is pushing him back, polished black shoes walking forward, one between Ice's legs to nudge him backwards and the other one flanking his hip. He's still all over Ice, mouthing sloppily at whatever is within kissing distance, his hand groping at Ice's dick through his pants, the other fisting his blonde hair, both of them breathing hard.

Ice's body is on fire.

It's like something primal takes over him, and before Maverick can back him against the railing, the fists he has clenched at Maverick's chest shove the brunette backwards. Ice follows, the wall catching Maverick before he can stumble completely backwards, and Ice reconnects their mouths without a moment to recover. His teeth catch at Maverick's jaw, scraping against skin until Maverick finds his mouth again in a bruising kiss.

It's a type of madness that Ice feels. It's uncontrollable and burning through his veins, every muscle in his body. Every neuron in his brain is more alive than it's ever been. It's been a long time since he's had anything this good. Because you can't do this with a woman. You can't ravage her, tear her apart the same way you can a man. You have to be considerate and thoughtful and slow. You have to attend to a woman, practice and play her like an instrument.

It's an art.

This is a whole other beast.

It's adrenaline rushing, being intimate with someone who is your equal in just about every way. It's as vulnerable as rolling over to show your belly to someone as dangerous as yourself and trusting them not to tear you apart. Someone who's after the same high as you. Someone who won't take any of your shit.

Ice gives it and Maverick gives it right back, teeth biting, lips sucking, fingers bruising. They're so close that Ice can feel the slide of muscle against his chest as Maverick breathes, his chest expanding wide with every breath. He's sucking a bruise into Maverick's throat, swirling his tongue against the other pilot's flushed skin and tasting iron.

Maverick's fingers find the button of his pants, the zipper, and then he's slipping his hand inside. Ice hisses at the intrusion of Maverick's cold fingers into his boxers, his dick jumping at the contact. Maverick wraps a hand around his throbbing cock and tugs upwards. A strangled sound leaves Ice's chest. He repeats the motion, this time using some of the precome leaking down Ice's shaft to obtain more of a gliding motion. With the lubrication, he falls into more of a rhythm, enabling Ice to match it with the rut of his hips.

Every jerk of Maverick's hand makes a sickening sucking sound, and something in the back of Ice's mind tells him he should be worried about someone hearing them. It invites a sort of adrenaline-filled fear within him. The same fear that flying gives him. Maverick swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, and he almost cries, the thought gone from his mind.

They haven't spoken this entire time but their noises of pleasure say enough. Ice is panting into the junction of Maverick's neck, muffling cries when he twists his wrist just enough to make Ice's jaw go slack.

One more tug of Maverick's hand around his pulsing cock and Ice's head goes fuzzy, followed by the most mind-shattering orgasm he's ever had flooding through him. He comes in Maverick's hand, spilling into his palm and the front of his boxers. When his coherence returns, the dead weight of his body is supported almost entirely by Maverick, almost certainly crushing him against the wall. The other pilot doesn't seem to mind, one hand around Ice's waist and the other lazily ghosting over Ice's flushed cock, sticky with come.

Ice's heart is pounding, and he's never felt more alive in his own body.

When he gets his bearings about him and the feel of Maverick stroking his sensitive cock becomes too much, he pulls away just so that there's a bit of space between them. Maverick lets him go, remaining with his back pressed against the wall.

Finally, Ice finds his voice. "Fuck, man."

He feels light headed and euphoric and full of bliss all at once.

Then his stomach churns. He's going to vomit.

Ice stumbles a few feet to lean over the side of the deck and retch, earlier's alcohol burning in his stomach. He heaves, the sudden burst of nausea coursing through him without warning. Stomach turning, Ice doesn't recall ever feeling this violently ill in his life.

When the nausea finally subside, there are tears in his eyes and an empty pit in his stomach that isn't from the vomiting. He doesn't trust himself to move away from the railing just yet, but he does look over his shoulder to find Maverick.

The brunette pilot is standing quietly behind him, a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He must have slipped inside and nabbed a few things from the bar. Ice isn't sure how he had the time to do that, but he also isn't sure how long he was bent over the railing puking his guts out.

This time he gasps out, "What the fuck was that, man?"

For some reason that Ice isn't following, Maverick chuckles. "That, my friend, was the best orgasm of your life. The thing that you're experiencing right now is called guilt."

When Ice just stares at him blankly, Maverick continues. "Happened to me too the first time I got with a guy. You spend your whole life being told that something is wrong, and then you get it and it's the best thing ever. Then you come down from the high and you're disgusted with yourself for enjoying it so much because you know you're not supposed to."

His dad's voice flashes through his mind.

Stomach churning again, Ice covers his face with his palms and groans. Maverick, who seems to be enjoying Ice's misery all too much, just chuckles again. "Here, sit down and drink this," and he holds out the opened bottle of water to Ice.

Ice, feeling too queasy to argue, removes his hands from his face and takes the bottle. He sits down on the front steps and Maverick follows. They sit shoulder to shoulder, once again too close should anyone come out and find them.

Hands clasped together in front of his knees, Maverick watches as Ice takes a few small sips of the water. He remembers feeling the way Ice is now all too well. Remembers the feeling of euphoria like never before, followed by the nausea and spiral downwards. If you think about it, it's kind of funny, having such a visceral reaction to something you want so bad.

Once Ice has gotten down about half of the bottle and no longer looks like he's going to vomit, Maverick continues. “This—thing—between us. Fuck, Ice, I want it. I want it so bad. And I know that this might be harder for you than it is for me because of your dad but—Tom, I want this.”

He hears Ice shudder out a breath beside him. He’s been awfully quiet this entire time, and for a moment Maverick thinks he’s going to refuse him. Instead the blonde pilot places a hand on Maverick’s knee, his thumb smoothing over it through the fabric of his pants. “Damn you, Mitchell.”

He’s smiling and Maverick laughs, a full body laugh that has his shoulders shaking as he leans further into Ice’s side. It’s one of the greatest laughs Ice has ever heard in his entire life.

#top gun maverick #top gun fic #topgun maverick #top gun iceman #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x iceman #top gun 1986 #top gun fanfiction

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piratefishmama · 2 years ago

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For one night only | part 1

“Huh?” Oh, how eloquent of him, truly, what a wordsmith. Steve only smiled wider, not a fake one either, it reached his eyes in a way that made them sparkle and Eddie couldn’t believe he’d just thought about a guys eyes sparkling when he smiled good lord how gay was he?!

“I’m Steve, I know you’re a metal guy, right? All that loud music do your hearing in, sweetheart?” Steve didn’t need to do homework on his clients, the company did that for him, but he did get access to the guys profile when he accepted the invite, the profile containing bits of information such as occupation, height, weight, age, etcetera.

He’d not even thought twice when the invite pinged into his inbox shortly after he’d switched his availability to SFW only, not for any particular reason. He just wasn’t feeling the need for sex. Wanted to be wined and dined, maybe flaunted, and pampered, an awards event with a gods honest rock star who might be accepting an award that night? Sounded perfect to him.

“S-sweet… Sweetheart?” He would later deny how high his voice got as he parroted that word, Christ, get it together, Munson! “Music… uh… loud, yep, yep loud music, that’d be it. Uhm… you uh… Steve, Steve Harrington. Right.” Hey, um, brain? How about you start working. Sound good? Steve didn’t remember him, he didn’t remember him, what a crushing blow, but… could he really claim to have expected anything less?

His high school crush not remembering his name, or who he was, or what he even looked like. Yeah, it was a little crushing, but Steve had always run in different circles. He’d never been cruel to him or the D&D gang, but he ran in the circles that had been cruel. Circles containing people now working in office 9-5’s or... as devastatingly handsome escorts, holy fuck.

A smile like that didn’t deserve to be judged by association, though. They weren’t in high school anymore. They weren’t in high school, and he was a rockstar. He did not have any reason to go all wibbly-kneed over the hottest man he had still ever seen. How was Steve still the hottest man he’d ever seen? He was a goddamn rockstar, he hung around celebrities every other week and here he was mooning over his high school crush again, when said high school crush didn’t even know who he was, again.

“Steve Harrington, that’s me. Are you going to let me in or are we going to go through everything in the hallway, I’m not fussed either way, but discretion is usually preferred in these circumstances.” Eddie had had his kinks listed in his profile, of course, but considering the SFW nature of the evening, he didn’t think he needed to worry about that blatant ‘Expeditionist’ kink among the others that he’d definitely looked once or twice at in interest. The security guards seemed to be fighting back smiles, professionalism an all that jazz.

“Y-yeah, yep, c’mon in Steve Harrington, into my hotel room, yep.” Jesus H Christ. He hung his head in shame as Steve let out the most charming of laughs and walked in when invited, the subtle breeze as he passed by carrying the scents of jasmine, bergamot, a note of amber undergrowth, and... God he didn’t even know but it smelled pricy and delightful. He shut the door to block out the subtle snort from the security guard on the left as he struggled to hold back his laugh, shoulders trembling as he fought to hold it back.

Shut up, Darrell.

“You seem kind of stuck on my name, should I be concerned?” Steve turned around, the backdrop of his window overlooking the city behind him, fuck, how was he still so handsome? What the shit was in the Harrington's DNA to create such a masterpiece?

“Uhm...” To tell him, or not to tell him, the band would probably blow it unless he could get to them and tell them to zip it, but... keeping it from him felt dishonest. Starting anything, even a loose acquaintanceship with an escort shouldn’t start with dishonesty, but... did he really not remember him at all?! “You... don’t remember me, do you?”

Steve tilted his head a little to the left, brows furrowing a little in thought “I’ve never accepted an invite from you before, have I?” Ouch. Alright then. A particularly vindictive little gremlin on his shoulder declared he should keep the connection a secret, see where dishonesty took them, but his little angel was thankfully much louder.

“N-no, no, uhm... we ah—we went to school together, Steve.” It was out there, in the space between them, Steve seemed surprised but didn’t answer, clearly trying to remember. “Super senior? Stood on tables and yelled at people in the cafeteria for conforming to the man? D&D club president...? Any of this ringing any bells?” Steve’s gaze dropped to the carpet, eyes searching, brows furrowed further. “It’s OK, man, it was a long—”

“No no, I... shit, I got knocked around a little in high school. The old man had me in boxing to make me a man, I guess. I wasn’t very good at it, so I uh... my memory isn’t what it should be, concussions an stuff, but... did we talk?” Oh, understanding dawned on him.

Steve used to just appear in the halls, looking like he’d gone toe to toe against a goddamn brick wall at random. Perfection painted in purples, blues, reds, and yellows but never not perfect.

“No... no we didn’t, it's OK...” and it was, it wasn’t Steve’s fault that his old man had been a douchebag. “Best place to start is fresh I guess!” He could be totally normal about this. He held out his hand “Eddie Munson.” Steve’s smile returned, radiant and kind as he reached over and took it. His hand larger, warmer, his grip strong and his fingers impossibly soft.

“Steve Harrington, nice to officially meet you, Eddie.”

Part 3

#steddie #piratewrites #ficlet #For One Night Only #eddie munson #steve harrington #Eddies too sweet to be dishonest to Steve #HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!#anyone wanna take a fun guess at the scent steve is wearing? 😁

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an0nfr0mth3d3n · 1 year ago

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As a sapphic myself, how could I not write a bit about the cutest lesbian couple (almost) on the qsmp?

The day Bagi got picked for Team Soulfire was one of the best days of her life, that she remembered at least. That Eye guy must really be homophobic because Bagi was going crazy with not being able to see the adorable girl that had so captured her heart.

Bagi picked the last of her supplies into her backpack, shouldering it quickly. There was no telling when her former teammates who had got chosen for Red could show up, and she wasn’t keen on finding out if the Green Gay spirit would grant her immunity from her former team.

Plus the sooner she saw Tina the sooner she could find happiness in this cruel horrible world of Purgatory.

Bagi smiled as the sun beat down on her face, soaking up the sounds and smells of the jungle one last time. The spicy hint of cacao, the distant squawk of a parrot, the gentle mist kissing her face, the earthy loam beneath her feet, and the far off crashing of waves against a sandy shore.

With spirit determined, she marched forwards towards the sounds of the waves.

Admittedly, she did in fact tense up a little bit when she saw the terror of the island Badboyhalo, who was doing figure eights in a motorboat (on the beach), but considering she already knew he was coming down to pick her up she wasn’t too surprised.

“BAGIIIII” Bad yelled when he saw her coming from the dense woods.

“BADDDDD!!” Bagi couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her dear friend, and she jogged forward to greet him.

Bad’s eyes narrowing in a manner that Bagi had come to associate with mischief, and as she approached, she noticed him type something out on his communicator.

Bagi stopped in front of him, leaning her hand on her hip. “Ok, whaaat are you typi- OOF”

Her sentence was cut short with a loud impact to her back, causing the Brazilian to fall onto the sand. The confusion only lasted a few seconds because with the impact came a high pitched happy squealing and even though it had been a week, Bagi would know that sound anywhere. “TINAAAAAAAAAAA”

The weight on her back shifted, and Bagi turned over in the sand, not minding the beach sand that was getting into her hair. In front of her, was her beloved-

Woah wait were those abs????

Bagi gawked at the crop top exposing Tina’s midriff. Where once was soft squishy belly, not that Bagi was specifically ever checking Tina out haha never…, were now sharply defined and well tanned muscles.

Bagi could hardly breathe as she tore her eyes away, face bursting into heat. It really didn’t help that as she did so she caught sight of the lean muscle now attached to Tina’s arms, and the pretty tan that the other girl had gotten.

Speaking of the other girl-

“Oh my god. What was I THINKING. Why did I DO that? I literally do not even know why I did that Bagi I am SO sorry. Ohhh god this is so embarrasssiiinngggg. Oh my god let me help you up.”

As Tina talked anxiously, Bagi could feel her senses returning, and briefly registered the shi- the muffin-eating grin on Bad’s face.

“Wow Tina I can’t believe you ATTACKED poor Bagi! I’m so sorry, I guess she doesn’t want you on our team!” Bad said far too cheerfully.

“Shut up you FREAK!” Tina yelled at the…vampalien?

“Freak??” Bad scoffed pompously, “I take offense to that! Bagi get your dog under control!”

“YOU’RE THE D-“

BONK

“OW!”

“DON’T MESS WITH TINA!”

Bad grumbled, rubbing his head, expression that of a kicked puppy. “Such violence! I cannot believe you would hit me, and with a cooking pot of all things!”

Bagi hefted the weight of the pot in her hands “Yeah, well I don’t have my frying pan, so this will do!”

“Wait, you have a cooking pot? Oh my god we should totally make a dinner for each other tonight!” Tina said, grasping Bagi’s arm with stars in her eyes.

Bagi stared. Tina’s face, while slightly cut in bruised from the trials of literally existing in purgatory, was gorgeously sun kissed, a faint tan spread evenly across her complexion that spoke tales of working in the sun.

“Um. Errrr. Yeah. Do you have any ingredients?” Bagi managed to get out.

Tina smirked proudly. “Ingredients? Girl, I’m like, the co-leader of the entire farm! I could get you anything! Anything for you Bagi!”

Bagi grinned, heart fluttering. “Then let’s have a nice dinner tonight. Might as well enjoy something in this hellish place!”

“Could I co-“

“No.”

#qsmp #q!tina #q!bagi #bagina #teaduo #q!badboyhalo #team soulfire #qsmp soulfire #qsmp tina #qsmp bagi

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kaledya · 5 months ago

Note

Hürrem reply !🌸

Yeah that moment was LIVE ! It happened in the same time ! I was so surprise ! _

Well for her form, for me Vassago has giving her education about the Goetia for sure. So she probably know how in theory but doesn't have the practice ?

Her father, in his eyes, (even if he never said it to her and their relationship of father-daughter is complex) Hürrem is for him a Goetia and he doesn't care she doesn't have the title or the secret that she is.

But in another way because of his mistake (he think it is his mistake), he has lost his best friend for this child.

Both Parvin and Vassago where just sad and they know each other so well, skinship just happened, in a hope to feel better just for a moment, even if there is not really true love (except the love of friendship) and Vassago gay.

I think that night they must have been in depressed drunk mood.

So in conclusion I think Vassago try to give Hürrem the best without truly being involved. He also need to be careful of Paimon.

Ahah the dialogue was so funny ! It make me think of Kuzco, at the end of the movie he just take potion and transform in bunch of animals (he want the one that would change him in human) and some guards are running after him and each time he take a potion he transform in the worst animal ever for the moment

Kuzco *needs to fly* Also Kuzco *transform into a parrot with wings so small we can't even call them tiny*

Same with Hürrem there ! And I just LAUGHED imagining Giovanni's face like "Well, that was not exactly... what I have in mind."

Also I realise I actually can rumble and show details and 'spoilers' about Hürrem! Like its not Lolicia.

Sooo I draw Hürrem genealogy tree on her mother side !! I had so much fun !

So some little things and details !

- I didn't have a name for the grandmother yet, so I call her Miss Bunny ! She is absolutely the bunny girl from Bambi as inspiration. - Paimon thinks *"damn it. Too pretty."* about Miss Bunny.

Fun fact : Miss Bunny and Parvin have bunny tails !

- Hürrem actually look like her grandmother a lot! She has the same hair texture, rabbit's weaskers and shape of face with the plump cheeks. And also her dad, with her general shape. - Parvin looks a lot like her dad! And has a narcissistic guy, Paimon probably love her more for it and that is why he kept her close to him even if he asked her to stay in her palace all the time.

Miss Bunny, Parvin and Hürrem all have horns that get smaller.

Miss Bunny has big horns with two shades of pink. Parvin has medium horns with two shades of purple. Hürrem as small horns with shade of white and dark green.

Fun fact : Parvin's nose has the shape of a bird beak but she has a normal mouth underneath.

Parvin is truly half Demon, half Goetia. Where Hürrem is a Goetia with parts of demon (bunny fur on tail, weaskers, horns)

Fun fact : the tip of the two feathers on top of Hürrem's head is plum color like the feathers on the back of Vassago's head.

Miss Bunny, Parvin and Hürrem all have two shades of colors in their hair.

Parvin is half-rabbit and half- great horned owl or raven (whatever Paimon is)

Where Hürrem actually developped the parrot form of Vassago to be a special type of parrot : a sun conure parrot.

Also Parvin has purple eyes and stars on her cheeks because of the meaning of her name.

Parvin has bunny ears because in the early design of Hürrem, I draw her with bunny ears but I change my mind.

That is all ! Sorry I rumble a lot but I can finally say some things without spoiling anything! Hope you like it !

I will dwell into ibis paint things ! I'm not forgetting ! Have a great day 🌸🌸🌸

Yes, it was quite logical that she knew it in theory but not in practice.

I really liked his father's attitude towards Hürrem from this aspect, even though their relationship is complex, it is nice that he still sees her as a Goetia.

Yes... This is something that really happens in real life too, some fathers can unintentionally blame their children for the loss of their wives (in his case his friend), and this leaves a gap between them.

And I really love how Vassagon tries to give Hürrem the best without getting too involved.But of course he needs to be careful with Paimon.

-+-

Yes lmao I remember Kuzco, it was one of the really good cartoons!

And yes, I can't remember Kuzco ever turning into an animal he wanted throughout the series. Usually, when he wasn't a llama, he was the wrong animal in the wrong place.

And LMAO Yes!! And now he'll have to run away with those little legs because he can't use his wings.

Yes, the same goes for Hürrem. She can't be whatever she wants.But on the bright side, it's a really cool scene when it happens.

And yes that was exactly Giovanni's reaction *Takes the little parrot rabbit and starts running on 4 legs*

---

YIPWPWPWPWEPEPE SPOILERS✨✨✨

First of all, I seriously didn't expect Parvin to be this beautiful.Seriously the design is 10/10 It totally gives off the royal vibe and seriously, whether it's the color palette or the look.

I seriously can't describe in words how beautiful she is.

And I just realized that technically Parvin is Stolas' half-sister. Did they know each other?

I think Miss Bunny is pretty good nickname. And Paimon is right, she is really pretty.

-Yes, Hürrem definitely looks more like her grandmother than her mother.And as you said, a little bit of Vassago

-Yes, someone like Paimon would probably like his daugther more just because she looks more like him, but to be honest, Parvin is really beautiful.🛐

-It seems normal for the horn gene to become rarer as the generation progresses, as a result, noble blood becomes more dominant over time.

-The detail on Parvin's nose was very clever!!

-I think it is a very nice design idea that all 3 of them have 2 colors in their hair. It really adds liveliness to the character's hair.

-Paimon is probably a great hornet owl.

- I'll look into it when you mention it. Sun conure parrots are really beautiful, they remind me of mangoes.

(Another Nickname for Hürrem lmao)

-The color of Parvin's eyes and the stars on her cheeks are truly a wonderful detail!!

-Rabbit ears would suit Hürrem, but I think it would be a better choice for her to look more Goetia.So I think you made the right decision.

No no no you don't need to apologize for rumble I seriously love reading what you write!!!! And I seriously love learning more about of your characters, too.Thank you for taking the time to write!!!

But ahm, I mean you can say spoilers, I don't mind UwU

I wish you good luck with ibis paint

Have a good day🌸🌸

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littlemisskittentoes · 8 months ago

Text

seven(ish) sentence sunday!

fun fact about sarah’s rbb— it’ll be a dual timeline piece and my first multichap!!

have a little snippy from the “now” timeline 💖

tags under the cut!

“I want to bring Nora home for Christmas,” she starts. “And I could really use my baby brother in my corner when I come out to them.”

And… Yeah. Of course Alex is going to be there.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” June parrots back, voice already recovered from its somber timbre.

Alex gives her a small smile. “Okay.”

He listens to June’s gentle voice while she tells him about the article she’s working on. Nods his head when she talks about wanting to take Nora to a new wine bar in the East Village. He even lets her lead him out of the office and walks her home once he’s polished off the last enchilada.

But if his stomach refuses to stop turning over on itself. If he has to press his palm against his chest during his own walk home in an attempt to quiet the furious race of his heart. If when he closes his eyes to try to sleep that night, too many flashes of sandy hair and teasing smiles light the back of his eyelids…

Well, only Alex needs to know.

massive thank you to the ever lovely @kiwiana-writes @accol-fics @nocoastposts @thedramasummer @junebugclaremontdiaz

@leaves-of-laurelin @magicandarchery

tag, youre it! @happiness-of-the-pursuit @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @galitzine-nick @gayrootvegetable

@gayrootvegetable @gay-flyboys @songliili @anincompletelist @cactusdragon517

@ssmtskw @read-and-write- @heartitinthesilence @bitbybitwrites @bigassbowlingballhead

#kittentoes writes #sevenish sentence sunday #several sentence sunday #six sentences sunday #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fic #firstprince #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3

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resident-gay-bitch · 11 days ago

Note

HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAYYYY!!!!

1- Evan Rosier <333 because their the most like me (probibly because i made up their entire personality out of my hcs lol)

7- ECLIPSE (James x Remus) THEY ARE SO SPECIAL TO ME! MY OTPPP

9- My favorite and also the first I ever read is Titles Are Dumb by ToriSaysNo ITS SOOOO GOOD AND VERY WHOLESOME

10- I actually descovered the Marauders fandom through Bowie's music! My dad showed me some of his songs:D Even though its most popular my favorite is probibly Starman ⭐️

18- Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift, Literally makes me cry every time because of them

17- I have a couple favs: Evan: Transmasc, Non-binary Asexual, Gay; and Remus: Demi-Boy, Bi

Yayyy! Thank you, and Starman has got to be one of my favourites too don't worry. it's one of his most popular songs for a reason, very very good.

okay, I'm writing you a litlte drabble for eclipse, i've only breifly written for them before but i think they're sweet and i love stretching my boundaries. i hope you enjoy it :))

(I wanted to incorporate Evan but I wasn't sure how to bring them into this one I'm so sorry)

🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞

Remus is reading under the large willow tree, out by the Black Lake. The sun is high in the sky, and warm on his skin, making him sweat a little under his robes, but he has no intention of taking them off any time soon; two nights ago was a full moon, and it was bad, fresh scars down his arms that would be noticeable to any passers by.

Sirius suspects Moonys unusual violence was caused by the eclipse, which Remus is sure must be correct. He's just glad Moony had enough wits about him to hurt himself, rather than his pack. Remus isn't sure what he would have done if he had hurt any of them, let alone James.

He looks up from his book, as interesting as it is, but James has always been far more interesting than any word on any page Remus has ever read.

The three of them are mucking about down by the bank, not far enough away that Remus is out of their sights, but far enough away so that they can make noise without giving him a headache.

Sirius has lept onto James' back, using him as a human shield from Peter, who's pelting pebbles at his friends with a laugh for their stupid chides at him. Remus isn't sure how they have so much energy.

He watches as Sirius attempts to climb even higher up James' back, pulling the two of them down onto the ground in a heap, rolling around, and Sirius slips into the water with a horrified scream. James can't stop laughing at him.

Behind his book, Remus laughing too. He emerges from the water drenched and disheveled, and the other two are poking fun at him. He manages to grab onto Peter and haul him into the lake, but James runs away before he can succumb to the cold water too.

He rushes over and sits down beside Remus, his chest heaving as he lays his head on Remus' shoulder, still laughing as he watches the other two splash about and make a ruckus.

"You alright?" Remus asks, watching James rub at his own wrist absentmindedly.

"Hmm?" He peers up at Remus and smiles, wiggling his hand about, "Oh, yes. Just landed on it funny. It will be right by practice in the morning, it's fine."

Remus smiled and reached out, taking James' wrist to soothe, "Still, you're hurt."

"Remus." James chides, "It's nothing. You're the one that's hurt."

"It's nothing." Remus parrots, making the both of them snicker, "I'm used to it, you're a wimp."

"I am not!" James huffs, folding his arms over his chest and slumping back against the tree, "I'm perfectly strong, thank you very much."

"Okay, James. If you insist." Remus says, trying his very best not to smirk as he returns to reading.

Silence lulls over them for a moment before James begins to squirm. He's never been very good at silences, he loves the sound of his own voice. Thankfully, though, Remus also loves the sound of his voice.

"Have you talked to Pete yet?" He whispers, looking around for anyone passing by, but no one's close.

"Not yet." Remus mutters back, flipping the page of his book, even though he's no longer reading the words, "Sirius?"

"Yeah." James nodded, "Talked to him just before... He kinda... figured it out before I could bring it up, actually."

"Right." Remus nodded, eyes fixed on his page, he's never been very good at this emotional stuff. James is far more equipped in this department than himself.

"He's alright with it, Remus." James said with a very kind smile, slipping their hands together, tucked down between them for no one to see, "I knew he would be. It's Sirius, he'll love me for anything I am."

"Yes, but what about me?" He asked back, looking into James' lovely dark brown eyes with desperation.

"Of course he is, love." James chuckled, "He said he's getting sick of our pining. Please let me take you out on a date now?"

Remus worries his lip, "What if Pete's not... What if he's not--"

"Weather he is or isn't, Remus, it isn't going to change anything, really. Is it? I mean, if he has a problem with us being queer he'll still know we're queer. Us going out isn't going to change it."

"I suppose." Remus sighed, "I'll talk to him tonight, then. I'll try."

"That's okay, love." James rested his head on Remus' shoulder again, "So long as you'll let me court you--"

"Merlin, don't say it like that." Remus laughed, "You make me sound like some posh boy."

"I'm a posh boy." James jeered.

"I can't believe I'm going out with a posh boy."

"So we're going out?!" James grinned, his head popping up so he could intently stare into Remus' eyes, "You mean it? You're going to let me take you out?"

"Obviously, James." Remus chuckled, "I can't deny myself forever."

"Thank Merlin. Mum and Dad are gonna be so happy." James said, looking back out at his friends in contempt.

Remus decides it's best not to question that. He had no idea James' parents would be finding out about such a thing so soon, but, well, he supposed it doesn't really matter, if James is so sure about it.

He'd probably let James do whatever he wanted, if it made him happy. And right now, they're both very happy, holding hands as they watch their friends attempt to drown one another in the lake.

And of course, Pete had no issues later in the night. His only protest was that they don't snog or shag anywhere near his bed, which of course is a rule that James desperately wants to break.

Remus has a feeling he's in way over his head with this boy, but honestly, he couldn't be happier.

🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞

Sorry for taking a while to get this done, I just ended up being way busier this week than i thought i'd be and i've had no time or energy lol, thank you for your patience i hope you enjoyedddddddd.

#jay writes #jays 21st birthday event!#marauders era edition #eclipse #Remus Lupin #James Potter #james x remus #remus x james #the marauders #marauders era #ficlet #mini fic #rarepair #marauders #jay answers

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andromedism · 6 months ago

Text

June 2017

“What’re you doing, bro?”

“I’m twirling!” Charlie yells over the booming bass, a blur of rainbow beads rattling around his neck. They shimmer in the strobe lights, casting specks of refracting light across his army jacket and his upturned face.

The dance floor parts slightly, a red sea of narrow-faced gays scowling at him as he overtakes their space with his revolution. It’s making Mac dizzy, but he needs to stay sharp.

“He’s twirling!” Dee confirms. She’s swaying at Mac’s side, a large rainbow flag tied around her neck. One of her gaudy fake lashes is sticking to her eyelid.

They’re both tipsier than Mac; the stale beer tolerance they’ve built up at Paddy’s is an unworthy match for the dangerously fruity drinks The Rainbow hands out like candy during Pride. Mac’s a pro by now and can knock back watermelon daiquiris with the best of them, but tonight isn’t the night for dicking around.

He grips Charlie’s shoulder, stopping him. “Take it easy. You don’t wanna pull trig on the dance floor, dude. People’ll get pissed.”

It’s not that this dance floor hasn’t seen its fair share of vomit—it has. Much of it, Mac’s. It’s just that the hundreds of glittery bodies swaying to the house music are giving him vertigo, and he didn’t really want to come, and Charlie and Dee cannot be left alone together without committing at least one felony. If one of them angers the wrong gay, he’ll have to bust out his jiu-jitsu training, and this isn’t the venue for that.

Someone needs to reign them in, be the straight man in the gay bar, and it has to be him—there’s no one else, anymore.

“You’re being such a buzz kill, man! This is your night!” Charlie cries, nodding his head to the beat of the music. He hasn’t stopped moving since Elton John’s tenor broke through the speaker on the first parade float earlier that afternoon. Mac’s always loved how Charlie absorbs the musicality in everything; tapping his feet to the rhythm of the leaky tap in the bar or pulling a piano riff from thin air after sniffing paint. It’s second nature for him. And then there’s Dee.

“Yeah! This is your night!” she parrots. She takes a swig from the penis-shaped cup she’s spilled the contents of on everyone in her orbit since they arrived. Mac has no idea where she got it from. The Rainbow doesn’t supply these. “Hey, this is blue flavored. What fruit is blue? Mac, d’you know?”

Charlie whirls on her, tipping back onto his heels as his legs catch up with his upper body. “Now hold on a minute, Dee. Why are you asking him, huh? Feels homophobic for you to assume he’s the fruit expert, here.”

“I’m not—” she huffs loudly and rolls her eyes in that eerie way that reminds Mac she’s someone’s twin, “—I’m not saying he’s the fruit expert ‘cause he’s gay, dipshit! I just—he’s been working out a lot and eating boring health food. Thought he’d know his fruits.”

Charlie turns to look at Mac, eyes skidding over his biceps. He doesn’t pay attention to things like this. If Mac showed up at the bar tomorrow with D-cups and ass implants, he wouldn’t bat an eye and doesn’t now. “He hasn’t been working out.”

“Yeah, he has! My god, do you pay attention to anything?”

They’ve been doing this a lot: talking about Mac like he isn’t standing right in front of them. His own friends treat him like a dog, hinting they’ll take him for a walk without saying it because they think if he hears the word, he’ll scamper around excitedly until they leash him. Or put him down.

Charlie plants his hands on his hips. “Well who’s to say between the two of us, I’m not the one with the fruit expertise?”

“Oh, what do you know about fruits, Charlie?” Dee challenges, walking up on him.

Charlie bounces on his toes as he shouts in Dee’s face. “I know a lot about fruits! I know a lot about fruits! My areas of expertise are bird law, woodworking, and then fruit—”

“Woodworking, what the hell are you talking about!?” Dee shouts back. She’s gesturing so violently that blue liquid is flying everywhere. Mac is strategically dodging drops of it as he steps forward to break them up.

It’s just then that the song changes and Charlie shoves his hand over Dee’s mouth to silence her. “Shut up! Shut up! Dee, shut up.”

She pushes him away, spitting wildly. “What the hell is on your hands!? Glue!?”

“I said shut up!” Charlie shrieks. He takes a deep breath and extends his arms, palms outstretched like a prophet. “I have to twirl about this.” Before Madonna can get a word of Express Yourself in edge-wise, he’s spinning again, off into the crowd.

Mac steps forward to follow him, but a sharp, quippy ‘Hey, boner!’ stops him in his tracks. When he turns to look at Dee, she’s staring at him. It’s so unnatural that he can only blink back at her. These past few years, they haven’t paid much attention to each other—only to fight like cats; their dynamic always defined by their gravitational proximity to another man.

“Are you—are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, duh. What’s up your ass?” She accents her question with a long swig from her dick cup. There’s a familial likeness there that keeps Mac from ever looking her directly in the eye.

Mac crosses his arms, standing a little straighter. “Nothing. Just trying to keep you two safe.”

She arches an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded. “From who?”

And yeah, that’s a good question. The threat level in the room is pretty low. Mac knows because he assessed it when they first walked in.

He shrugs. “I dunno. Anyone could be lurking here. Spies, henchman, a ninja maybe—”

“A ninja?” she interrupts, and there’s skepticism in her tone that makes him nervous. Why can’t she mind her own business?

“They could be anywhere, Dee. You don’t understand because you’re thinking like a civilian.” He taps his forehead for good measure.

“You’re a civilian, jerk ass.” She pulls the little umbrella out of her cup and twirls it in between her fingers. “You’re thinkin’ ‘bout your buddy, huh? Yikes!”

He’s been trying really hard not to think about anything at all; the door in his apartment that’s always closed; the room behind it that’s always empty; the one-way ticket to North Dakota that made it all so.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah y’are.” She shoves the dick cup in his face until he takes a swig. It feels like water going up his nose.

“Holy shit. What is this, Windex?” He eyes the sloshing blue substance, suspiciously. Maybe it will poison her and she’ll stop asking him so many pointed questions.

“No, it’s a blue lagoon. I got it from Estevan.” Dee flicks her hand behind her lazily, and Mac follows the direction of her flippant gesture into a crowd of strangers.

“Who’s Estevan?”

“He’s over th—” She turns to point at an empty space on the far wall. “Oh. I could’ve sworn he was…” She cocks her head back at Mac. “Hey, what d’you think was in those edibles?”

Mac swallows dryly. “I don’t think those were edibles, Dee.”

There was something kind of wonky about the little pink gummies Frank dropped into each of their palms, hours earlier. ‘You kids stay woke and don’t mix these with poppers or you’ll end up ass up in an airfield,’ he’d said before descending the stairs to a sketchy basement bar with Artemis. He hadn’t meant it in the liberal sense. There’s nothing woke about Frank. If Mac had a dime for every homophobic thing the guy said today, he’d be able to buy everyone in the bar a round. What’s the word for that? Reparations, maybe?

He looks to his side to ask the person who’s always standing there, the person who always knows the answer. There’s no one.

Dee pokes Mac in the pec with the toothpick end of the umbrella. “Look, I don’t care if you go home and sob into his pillow every night—“

“Estevan’s? I still don’t know who that is.”

Dee furrows her brow. “Est—what? No! Not Estevan’s! You know who! And you can mope about him all you want on your own time! But tonight’s supposed to be fun and you’re shitting on everything!”

“I am not shitting on everything!” Mac shoots back. He holds up the dick cup, pointedly. “You’re the one collecting souvenirs like a tourist! You should really give that kid her flag back!”

“Finders keepers!” Dee clutches at the ends of the flag and wraps them around her body, possessively, cocooning herself like a big ugly moth.

“You didn’t find it! You stole it!” She’d ripped it out of a college girl’s hands in line outside and told her to suck a fat chode before parading past the bouncer. If Mac’s retained anything from the Star Wars prequels he’s been marathoning in his now-infinite free time, it’s that not all heroes wear capes, and not all people who wear capes are heroes.

“Oh don’t make this about me!” Dee snaps. “We’re doin’ your thing tonight and you’re not even enjoying it, like an ungrateful asshole!” She gestures broadly to the dance floor, the ends of her pride cape flaring out around her in a blur of color. “Look around you! Everyone’s having a great time but you! If I were you, I’d be dancing my ass off! Not thinkin’ ‘bout my loser roommate.”

Mac clenches his fists. “He’s not a loser, Dee! He’s a dad!”

“What’s the difference!?” she yells, stomping her feet like a toddler.

There’s a huge difference, obviously–and she’s too drunk and dumb to see it. Dads can’t be losers. Take Mac’s for example. He’s a total badass. What, with all of his tattoos, and his secrets, and his criminal record? Bad. Ass.

Mac shoves the dick cup back into her hands. “Can we stop? Can we stop!? This is stupid! You’re drunk, we’re all high, Frank totally poisoned us which is probably a hate crime, at least in my case! This night has been shitty and I wanna go home! I’d rather be finishing Revenge of the Sith right now and that’s saying a lot. I’m gonna go find Charlie.”

“Whatever! Go do that! But remember, the night wasn’t shitty until you started shitting on it!” As Dee flings her hand out, liquid sloshes from the dick cup and hits Mac’s chest in a cold splatter.

“Hey!” he cries, grasping at the wet fabric of his tank top. “Oh god damnit, Dee!”

She cups a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I fucked it.”

“Yeah, you fucked it! Get me something to clean this up! Shit!”

“Fine!” She starts to tromp off, but then stops. Turning on her heels, she walks up into Mac’s space and jabs a sharp finger into his chest. “Stop. Shitting.”

They scoff at each other before she’s off again, stomping into the crowd. Mac flexes his fingers, fighting off the urge to trip her as her pride cape blurs with the other rainbow apparel. It’s just him, now. Him and a hundred other gay people. That thought alone is enough to unnerve him from his sticky spot on the floor.

Mac drifts aimlessly through the flock of sweaty bodies, eyes fixed on the blue stain blooming over his heart. Something’s kicking in: the edible, or Dee’s molotov cocktail, or the big horrible feeling he has in crowded rooms now that there’s no one to turn to and say ‘ It’s crowded in here, huh? ’.

The DJ has switched things up, opting for a slow song. People are pairing up to dance a boozy waltz. Bodies slotting together, hands grasping for broad shoulders, and Mac, all alone, covered in glitter and suspiciously blue liquor.

A couple in matching leathers bumps into him in the scramble, muttering apologies. A server lifts a tray of tequila shots high above their heads as she skirts past him. She’s wearing a tee shirt that says 'Love who you love' in big bold lettering. How? That’s all he’s been asking himself his entire life. How do you love someone the way they need it? How do you cope when they leave? How do you come out without immediately locking yourself in a brand-new box?

There’s a lull in the crowd finally, a clearing in the musky haze, where he can take a long deep breath. He blots at the stain with clammy fingers to no avail, barely noticing the hands ducking into his line of sight to press a napkin to his shirt.

“She’s so fucking annoying.”

Everyone sounds a little like this these days, so he doesn’t react anymore. In coffee shops, and grocery stores, and clubs like this one, Mac hears the familiar pert inflection that used to fill the space between him and the other end of the couch. And every time he turns to look, the face isn’t right.

“So annoying,” Mac agrees. “You know her?”

“You might say I know her better than anyone,” the stranger says with a theatrical inflection. He was always so dramatic.

Mac is still staring at the long, slim fingers fussing with the stain, the manicured nails grazing his bare chest as they hold fast to the fabric, lighting his skin up with goosebumps. He shifts on his feet. “Wow, you that close with her? Dee Reynolds? Bro, that’s—”

“Look at me, asshole.”

He won’t.

Because this is the same nightmare he’s been having for months. And it ends badly. It always has. It will never be different.

“Mac,” the stranger says, softly, in that tone he used to take in their kitchen at midnight, when they’d have tea together after a long day at the bar, when they’d share stories they’ve heard each other tell a million times like secrets. “Look at me.”

To Mac’s great pleasure and horror, he is just as easy to look at as he was the last time they saw each other. The vivid club lighting is cutting through the moving shadows, catching the arc of his cheek, the soft curl of his hair, his prim mouth set in an intent line.

As dancers and servers pass them by like ships in the night, Mac can feel it: the gossamer thin thread keeping him tethered to reality snapping as those slim hands drop the napkin and press hot to his neck, pulling him forward.

“What are you—” Mac starts, but it’s no use, because Dennis Reynolds, South Philadelphia’s most infamous ghost, is kissing him soft and open-mouthed in the middle of a gay bar.

And everything is blue like the sky on an autumn day when they were children, and Charlie would push him on the rusty swing set in the park. That fluttering deep in his stomach, as he’d dropped back down to earth, returning to him now like an old friend. Returning to him now, like Dennis.

And there’s something unnervingly gentle about the pale hand, reaching up to brush a stray hair off Mac’s forehead as they press closer to each other.

And Mac is gripping at the collar of a familiar button-up for dear life, wanting to anchor them both in this moment so that he won’t wake up in a cold sweat, any minute now, legs sticking to his sheets.

And the planets are all marbles, rolling out of orbit into the black universe, where everything tastes like the lip gloss Dennis left on the counter when he walked out of Mac’s life.

You never text me back, he wants to say. You never call. But he can’t speak, he can only sigh into the mouth of this beautiful, horrible stranger, who is kissing him like it’s the last time they’ll ever see each other. Maybe it is. Fear bubbles up in Mac’s throat at the idea that this is the closest he’ll ever be to Dennis again: hallucinating his likeness in crowded rooms he’ll never be in for all of eternity.

But when the stranger breaks the kiss, it’s still Dennis; still sharp lines and a rigid brow, pursed lips, and something rare and open in those wide, blue eyes flickering out as the mask is tied back on.

In all of Mac’s dreams, they don’t get this far. They don’t kiss. He always wakes up before they do it. Which only means one thing:

“This is a nightmare,” Mac whispers. It’s all he can think to say. It’s the only explanation.

“Yours or mine, buddy?” Dennis says softly. It’s quiet enough that Mac shouldn’t be able to hear it, but he does because he’s watching Dennis’ mouth so intently he could probably draw it later, from memory. His eyes linger there as Dennis turns in the other direction, walking away before Mac can take a breath.

“Wait!” Mac calls after him, trying to catch up, weaving through the crowd. It’s so like Dennis to power walk out of any compromising situation. Mac should know - he’s seen him do it a million times and not once has he been able to keep up. The guy’s got the stamina of a show pony. The last time he did it, he didn’t come back, and Mac’s reliving it again, for the hundredth night in a row. Remembering everything he didn’t say, or tried to say but it came out wrong.

“Dennis, wait!” Mac calls again, shoving the server from earlier aside as she walks between them. “Move, bitch!”

One moment he sees Dennis’ silhouette in the crowd, curls haloed by the overhead lighting, fingers digging into his palms in that way he does when he’s nervous, the arc of his tensed shoulders, shifting through the masses. The next, he’s gone.

“There you are!” Dee’s hand is on Mac’s shoulder, spinning him around. She and Charlie are staring at him with twin looks of concern. “Where the hell have you been!? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Everything is ten times louder all of a sudden like someone ripped his headphones out of his ears at the gym.

“I was…” Mac presses his hand to his mouth. His fingers are trembling. “Did you two see him?”

“Who, Estevan?” Dee asks, head cocked inquisitively—yes, like a bird.

“Estev—no. No.” Mac lifts his hand from his mouth to his forehead, massaging the skin there. It takes everything to move, suddenly. He feels like a bug, suspended in amber. “Guys, I think those edibles were laced with something.”

“I think you’re right, man.” Charlie says, “I just spun so much I wore a hole in the dance floor”

“It’s true,” Dee says, “I tripped over it and got blue everywhere.”

“Yeah, it’s everywhere. There’s blue everywhere,” Charlie adds.

Mac’s heart is beating so fast he can feel it in his ears, over the beat of the poppy synth music. Reality has rushed back in, the bar buzzing with energy once again. Maybe it always was.

“I—I think we should call it a night, guys. I need to get some air. I’m seeing things.”

Dee and Charlie exchange a look. Maybe they’ll take him for a walk after all. “Yeah,” Charlie says, “I think that’s the right move. Not that this hasn’t been so fun!”

“Oh! So fun!” Dee parrots, unconvincingly.

“But yeah, let’s go.” As Charlie motions toward the door, Dee flashes a bundle of paper towels.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I brought you this for the—” she stops, staring at Mac’s chest. “What the hell? Did you change your shirt?”

“No, why would I…”

He looks down, padding at the spot where there was once a blue stain. Now, nothing.

They all look at each other, letting the beat of confusion hang between them before deciding at once: “The edibles.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Dee says. She flares out her cape dramatically and leads them through the crowd.

Mac trails behind her, eyes unfocused, the desire to be curled up on the couch watching Anakin burn to death in the lava river greater than he could have ever imagined. ‘I hate you,’ he’d said. ‘I loved you.’ Obi-Wan had replied. It’s where Mac had left off.

A wet napkin gets stuck to the sole of Charlie’s sneaker. He kicks it off and stumbles after them. “So wait, who’s Estevan?”

read more here <3

#happy pride friends!#i hope you like this :)#iasip #macdennis

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mrspasser · 3 months ago

Text

Craft box - Inception fanfic

I found this comic online (source unknown to me, unfortunately) and then I wrote a fanfic. That's it. I had a lot of fun writing it :-)

Eames. Eames is the vampire, of course.

Read it below or on Ao3.

Craft box

It’s only the first day. Everything was going so well, too. After all, it’s not like this is the first time he’s looked after James and Phillipa. With a lot of their closest family living in another state or even abroad, he’s kind of like an uncle to them. The fun uncle without any kids of his own and with an impeccable fashion sense. Alright, he’s the gay uncle, so what? That doesn’t mean he can’t look after kids. He’s pretty good at it, he dares say. He knows to cut little James’ sandwich in small triangles, so they’re both bite-sized and fun-sized. He knows how to braid Phillipa’s hair, he even managed to do something that resembled Elsa’s hair. From afar - whatever, the kid was happy. And he’s just served them a nutritious meal, which they even finished to the last bite, so he’s really on top of this babysitting thing.

Until Crookshanks comes casually wandering into the kitchen with something in his mouth. Something that moves.

“Crooks has a mouse!” Phillipa calls out and she immediately slides down from her chair at the table to run after the cat.

Arthur, who is just clearing the table, has about one second to think ‘Oh no’ before things get worse.

“It has wings!” Phillipa announces this like it's a fun novelty instead of a worrying development. She is perched in front of the stairs in the hallway between the living room and the kitchen, where the red shabby haired family pet has decided to lay down with his catch.

“I ‘anna see!” James almost throws himself down from his high chair and races towards his sister and the cat.

Arthur would much rather do the dishes than deal with some poor, doomed critter the cat caught, but the horrible vision of James and Phillipa with tiny viscera smeared on their hands spurs him into action. He tosses the tea towel over his shoulder and hurries toward the hallway. “Don’t touch that, kids!”

He’s relieved to see that the cat still has hold of the critter, the unfortunate animal caught beneath both front paws. James and Phillipa sit in front of the cat, sharing their observations with each other.

“It has very pointy wings.”

“An’ a furry belly.”

“No, that’s his head, silly.”

From up close, Arthur is stunned to see the animal isn’t all that tiny. And it’s not a mouse at all. It’s a bat. And it’s dead. Thank god.

“Come on, kids, let me through,” Arthur says, gently pushing his way in between the kids. The cat warily watches him approach, but doesn’t move. Arthur is generally on good terms with the Cobb family’s cat and he likes to keep it that way.

Beneath the cat’s paws is unmistakably a bat: one of its wings pokes out at what’s gotta be an odd and painful angle. The bat is not moving and Crookshanks doesn’t seem to be holding him all that tight. “Yeah, I think he’s dead,” Arthur sighs, not looking forward to what comes next. At least he can dispose of it pretty easily. Could he just chuck it in the trash or should he put it in the compost heap in the back of the yard? If it died outside, it would decompose somewhere on the ground too, right?

“Aww no,” Phillipa cries mournfully. “Are you sure?”

“Aw you sure?” James parrots her. He isn’t sad, though. He probably barely understands what’s happening and is just happy to be along for the ride.

“I’m sorry, honey, I think so,” Arthur answers and strokes a hand over Phillipa’s hair in comfort. “That’s what sometimes happens in nature. Cats are predators, they hunt.”

“I know,” she replies, perking up already. “Crookshanks has catched a lot of mouses already! And a frog! And two birds! No, three! Three birds!”

“And now he can add a bat to his tally,” Arthur confirms. The massive, fluffy cat generally demonstrates a pretty laid back attitude inside the house, yet it’s still an animal equipped with claws and sharp teeth and Arthur knows to show deference to that kind of potential power.

He’s decided that the tea towel should be sufficient for grabbing the dead animal without making his hands dirty. He doesn’t want to go back to the kitchen to look for rubber gloves under the sink, in case Crookshanks gets it in his head to take his prey further into the house and hide it somewhere where Arthur can’t find it and then the whole house will smell of rotting carcass within days.

Arthur carefully moves in with the tea towel and it must be his lucky day, because the cat is suddenly bored with whatever it is that is happening and stands up and wanders off, not even looking back towards the poor bat it killed. “Oh well,” Arthur shrugs, “that could’ve gone worse.” He’d been prepared to fight the cat for the dead animal, but this is way better. Or it isn’t, because now there is nothing to distract Arthur from the feeling of a dead animal in his hands, tea towel or not. He almost gags, only able to hold it back for the sake of the kids.

“We should bury it in the backyard!” Phillipa suggests cheerfully. “We can make a… a dead people box, from a - from a real box.”

“A coffin,” Arthur corrects. “And I don’t think that’s necessary, honey. A bat is a wild animal, not a pet. We don’t need to bury it.”

He walks towards the trash can in the kitchen. It is nearly full, he can toss the bat in and then take the trash out. Maybe he’ll toss in the tea towel as well. Who knows what kind of germs the bat carries.

“But I wanna…” Phillipa is gearing up for an argument, both of the kids following Arthur on his heels.

Except when Arthur reaches the trash can and puts his foot on the pedal to open the lid, the bat suddenly trashes back to life. Arthur may or may not have screamed. The kids know, but who believes a five and a barely three year old when it’s his word against theirs? He also drops the bat. “Fuck,” Arthur says. With feeling.

“That's a bad word,” James informs him sagely, while his sister dances around him, chanting “It’s alive! It’s alive!”

The bat, who is indeed very much alive, tries to scamper behind the trash can, away from the noisy giants that tried to toss it in the trash and then proceeded to drop it from some height.

“Oh god,” Arthur groans, realising he will now have to touch the bat again to catch it. Maybe he can call in Crookshanks to finish the job?

“Oh no, he’s hurt!” Phillipa has stopped her happy dance to peer behind the trash can. “His wing is all wonky.”

A quick peek confirms that indeed, the animal’s left wing is not looking too hot. It probably hurts, maybe it would be better to put it out of its misery?

“We have to take it to the animal doctor!” Phillipa is suddenly taking charge and she disappears into the living room, coming back with an empty shoe box a moment later. It’s adorned with shiny stickers and fuzzy decals; Arthur recognizes it as her craft box and realises that there’s now a mess of stickers and craft paper on the floor in the next room. “We can put it in here!”

There’s no way that Arthur is going to drive to a vet with a probably half dead bat at this time of night. He’d have to pay an arm and leg for a consultation outside office hours, for an animal that’s probably only still on its feet due to a last, desperate burst of adrenaline.

“Alright, we can put it in the box,” Arthur agrees gently. “But the vet is closed right now, so we’ll have to wait until morning until we can take him.” There’s no use in arguing with Phillipa when she’s like this, she’s too much like her mother for that. And her father. Both parents can be stubborn assholes, if you ask Arthur. However, Phillipa still looks cute when she’s being a pain in his ass, Dom doesn’t have that excuse.

“We’ll put the box in a quiet place so the bat can rest,” he decides, taking the shoebox and the lid from Phillipa. It’s actually kind of convenient that the bat is in the corner behind the trash can: Arthur can close in from both sides with the box and the lid and scoop the animal in without too much of a fuss. There’s flapping and squeaking and some internal cursing (probably both from Arthur and the bat), but he manages. He blows out a deep breath of relief when he can close the lid.

The shoebox has a round hole on one end, which provides air flow for the animal, but is probably too small for the bat to escape through. It is big enough for a grape to fit through, which is the food they settle on when the kids insist that they feed the poor animal. Arthur doubts if the bat will eat the grape, but he’s not going to go outside to catch insects for the little fucker.

He’s able to convince the kids that they can put the bat in the laundry room, behind closed doors. He thinks that dying animals have the habit of crawling away somewhere and therefore thinks it better to keep it contained. He does leave the window open on a crack, in case the poor animal manages to get up to the windowsill and prefers to die outside.

After all that excitement it takes him well over an hour to put the kids to bed and another half an hour to clean up both the kitchen and the contents of Phillipa’s craft box that are strewn over the floor of the living room. When all that is done, Arthur settles down with a large glass of red wine from Mal’s inventory. He’s earned it, he figures. He also hopes the bat will have the decency to die in the course of the night, or at least escape.

***

Before the crack of dawn there are two children jumping up and down beside his bed, exclaiming that they want to go see the bat. Arthur regrets pouring himself the second and third glass of red wine, but rolls out of bed anyway. Both James and Phillipa are early risers and he’s used to getting up early with them when he’s babysitting. He’ll catch up on his sleep when he gets back home in a few days.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles, pulling on a bathrobe over his T-shirt and boxers sleeping combo. It’s one of Dom’s, so it’s slightly big on him, but it’s a beautiful shade of night blue and incredibly soft. Maybe Arthur will keep it as payment for all the shit he has to put up with this weekend. He would like to find the sash first, if he’s to keep it. For now, he can just forgo closing the robe. It’s just him and the kids in the house anyway. Just like his sleep, his fashion sense can take a backseat until he gets back home.

James and Phillipa run down the stairs in front of him, excited to go see their little sleepover guest. Who might be dead. Or gone in the wind. Arthur hopes it’s the latter, it would save him having to clean up the body.

“Wait a second, kids.” He manages to catch up with them before they open the door. “We have to be careful when we open the door, the bat may have escaped the box.”

Arthur gets the sudden vision of a bat flapping around like crazy in the laundry room and immediately isn’t all that keen on opening the door. But there are two very excited kids crowding him, so he has no other choice.

He opens the door and -

“Oh my fucking god!” Arthur does some sort of karate move with his leg and one arm to catch the two kids around the middle and shove them back into the kitchen, slamming the door shut with his free hand.

He tries to catch his breath as his mind races. He knows Dom owns a gun. Where would he keep it? In the safe? Arthur doesn’t know the combination. Where’s his phone? Still on the nightstand next to his bed. Maybe he can use a knife -

“Why is there a man sitting on the floor of our laundry room?” Phillipa looks between the door and Arthur and back. Then it’s like there’s a little light turning on above her head. “Oh! Is he a vampire?”

Arthur rifles through the kitchen drawers. Do knives even work against vampires? Probably not if they’re made of stainless steel. And the only silver knife he can find in this kitchen is an antique looking butter knife. If that’s even real silver.

He doesn’t know much about vampires, just that they’re not the bloodthirsty monsters the media painted them as back in the day. Still, he has two little kids and a stranger in his house. A stranger who is a vampire.

“Hello!” Little James opens the door and waddles inside, taking advantage of Arthur’s spot over by the cutlery drawer.

“James, no!” Arthur sprints towards the kid, ready to jump between the vampire and the little boy.

“Hello, laddy,” the vampire says, smiling at the child. “Is your daddy always this nervous?”

“He’s not my daddy,” James answers blithely in that way little kids have. “That’s A’thur.”

“My daddy says Arthur has a stick up his butt,” Phillipa adds, wholly unnecessary. Arthur only sputters his indignation, too stunned to say much. The vampire huffs a laugh, entirely too amused for someone who may or may not be guilty of home invasion. Sort of. Arthur isn’t too sure of the technicalities on this one.

However, the man sitting on the floor of the laundry room is indeed a vampire. Arthur can see his fangs when the man smirks crookedly at him. It’s kind of charming, in an annoying way. There’s a flattened shoe box beneath his thigh and he’s holding his left shoulder gingerly.

“Did you dislocate your shoulder?” Arthur asks stupidly, remembering the oddly positioned batwing from the night before.

“I did,” the vampire nods. “Popped it back in right before you lot stormed in.”

“Does it hurt?” Phillipa asks.

The vampire smiles at her. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m made of sturdy stuff.”

Sturdy indeed, Arthur can’t help but think as the vampire gets to his feet with a soft grunt. The man is broad shouldered, with strong thighs and a smattering of hair showing through the opened top buttons of his frankly alarming shirt. It’s a dirty shade of peach, with an eye watering print. Arthur didn’t know they still sold paisley print. If he has to stare at this shirt for a little longer he’ll feel compelled to file an official protest against it.

The vampire looks down and spots the flattened box, making a small noise of distress that Arthur thinks is quite cute. He’s a bit startled by this notion and shakes his head to get rid of it. There’s an unknown vampire in the house and he has to stay vigilant, even though the man doesn’t seem all that dangerous. He discards his ideas of finding a weapon for now, it doesn’t seem necessary in this case.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear,” the vampire says ruefully to Phillipa. “It seems like I accidentally ruined one of your creations.” He bends over to retrieve the flattened cardboard from the floor, holding his left arm carefully against his stomach so he won’t jostle it too much.

“That’s okay,” Phillipa says genially, taking the box from him. “I can make another one. Mama just bought new shoes, I can use that box.”

“Mister, are you a vampire?” James peers up at the man, studying him intently.

The vampire inclines his head. “I am. But you can call me Eames, little man.”

A vampire called Eames, who wears paisley shirts and tan chinos above a pair of slightly ratty loafers. He talks with a British accent too; not the posh one, something more urban probably. He’s the strangest vampire Arthur has ever seen. Not that he has met a lot of them, but still.

“Are you okay? You look a little peaky.” Now that he’s standing for a few minutes, Arthur can see the hunch in his shoulders and a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. His shoulder must be causing him pain, that much is clear.

“I’ll be alright, darling.” The vampire winks at him and there’s that crooked smirk again. “But I could do with a drink.”

“You’re not drinking my blood!” Arthur exclaims, rather dramatically. “Nor that of the kids!” He hauls Phillipa and James backwards, instantly wary of the man in front of them. His bathrobe billows around him with the movement.

The vampire lifts his hands apologetically and cocks his head. “Not that kind of drink. A glass of water will do just fine for now.”

“Oh, alright.” Arthur deflates and eyes the vampire critically, as much as he can in his slightly rattled state of mind. The man seems to try and make himself as non-threatening as possible, with a - slightly strained - smile and a casual pose. It could be an act, of course, yet Arthur doesn’t think the vampire means them harm. If he wanted to, he could’ve easily hurt them already. Arthur is by no means an expert on vampires, but he knows they’re stronger than regular humans. They need to drink blood, but can also eat normal food - though he thinks there are some allergies in play. He has the sudden urge to make a deep dive into vampire research. But he can’t, because he has two excited kids and an exhausted vampire to take care of right now. So he makes the executive decision to invite the vampire - Eames - into the kitchen, pointing him to a chair at the kitchen table, which he gratefully sinks down onto.

“I’ve had better nights, let me tell you,” Eames shares with a grimace, massaging his chest close to his left shoulder with his hand. “Thank you, darling,” he says absentmindedly when Arthur places a glass of water in front of him.

Arthur decides to chalk the pet names up to the vampire’s Britishness and not pay them much mind. He takes a seat across from the vampire, next to Phillipa who is staring riveted at their unexpected guest. Arthur would’ve expected James to have already lost interest and to wander off into the living room to play with his toys, but the toddler is sitting right next to his sister, equally mesmerised.

“Are you like a hundred years old?” Phillipa has her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. Arthur doesn’t check, but he bets her feet are swinging beneath the table.

James is sitting on his knees on the chair, leaning his hands on the table. “Do you eat people?”

“No and no,” Eames says with a chuckle. He’s looking perfectly at ease in the kitchen, despite looking a little haggard. Arthur watches him take a sip of the water.

“Can you turn into a bat?” James asks next, to which his sister makes an exasperated sound.

“Of course he can! You saw him last night! He was a bat!”

“That was me, indeed.” Another sip of water.

“Why are you a bat?” James again. He’ll probably be talking about this day for the rest of the month, or even the year. Not that there’s much of the year left, it’s November already.

Eames laughs. “Well, the simplest answer would be: because I can. It’s pretty darn cool to be able to fly, you know?” The kids nod excitedly at his words and even Arthur has to admit that it would be cool to be able to fly. “But I also hu-” Eames catches himself in time. “I go look for food as a bat.”

While the kids grill the vampire for what he likes to eat (surprise, it’s not grapes), Arthur’s mind fills with gruesome images of Eames on the hunt. To be honest, inside his head the vampire looks more like a chupacabra than the innocuous bat Crookshanks brought into the house last night, so it’s a little startling to hear the vampire declare he likes raw steak.

“We have steak! Right, Arthur? We have steak!” Phillipa pulls on his sleeve, reminding Arthur he’s still dressed in Dom’s bathrobe, with his boxers and an old T-shirt underneath. He’s a little horrified, for whole different reasons than when he was imagining chupacabra Eames ravaging an unsuspecting victim.

“Uh, yes. We do.” He’d taken the kids shopping yesterday and planned to make a steak salad for himself tonight, while the kids ate a dinosaur shaped hamburger with their greens.

“Can Eames have it?” Phillipa bounces in her seat. “I bet he’s hungry! You’re hungry, right?”

To Arthur’s surprise the vampire is looking a little abashed. “I mean, your cat did interrupt my plans for the night, yes. But you don’t have to feed me! I’ll be fine.”

Arthur is more than happy to take him on his word, but then Phillipa says: “Arthur is a good cook! He can make you something really yummy!”

“Can I have steak?” James asks, looking at Arthur expectantly.

“You don’t like steak, buddy,” Arthur answers gently. “Remember? You think it’s too chewy. That’s why we bought the dino burgers.”

“Oh, yeah.” James processes this and then proceeds to ask for dino burgers. Of course.

“No, bud. It’s breakfast time. Dino burgers are for dinner.” Arthur glances at the clock, which is at just past seven. He can’t believe he’s been up for an hour already, on a Saturday.

He shoves his chair back, getting up. “I guess I’m making breakfast. No steak for you,” he adds with a pointed stare at little James. “Or dino burgers. You can have cereal.”

He starts gathering ingredients for the kids’ breakfast and turns on the coffee maker. It’s no wonder he feels so rattled, he hasn’t had his coffee yet. “Any for you?” he asks their guest, pausing to see if he has to get one or two cups down from the cupboard.

The vampire shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’ll take some tea if you have it?”

“Is that on account of being British or being a vampire?”

Eames smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A bit of both, I guess. These days coffee no longer agrees with my stomach, unfortunately.” Which Arthur guesses is a polite way of saying he can no longer digest coffee. He also deduces that Eames hasn’t always been a vampire and wonders how long it’s been.

He thinks about putting a mug in the microwave to heat up the water, but decides against it, both out of consideration for Eames’ nationality and his own standards. The electric kettle will take a little longer, but at least it won’t incite another civil war.

Puttering around in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready for the kids and hot drinks for the adults, Arthur is a little slow to realise that the sun has come up. And that the kitchen faces the East. “Oh, shit,” he huffs and hurries to close the blinds. When he turns to face Eames, the vampire is watching him intently, an odd softness around his eyes. It lasts only a moment, until Eames speaks up, quietly.

“Thank you. I won’t burst into flames from the first ray of sunlight, but thanks anyway.”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur says automatically, putting the bowls of cereal in front of the kids and handing them their spoons. And then: “Oh my god, how are we gonna get you out of here? Do we have to wait until nightfall?”

“Well, you could always just chuck me out if you’re that desperate to get rid of me,” Eames suggests and it sounds just off-handed enough that Arthur doesn’t believe in the vampire’s pretence.

“I don’t -... I’m not -...” Arthur starts and stops two sentences that he has no idea of how to finish. He sighs and wraps the bathrobe tight around himself. “I’m a little out of my depth here,” he admits. “I have no idea what to do with a strange vampire in my house. Or, not my house, but… Oh, you get what I’m saying!” He throws his hands up and the bathrobe falls open again.

Eames gets up from the table, rounds it in what Arthur suspects is a sedated pace put on just for him and his frail nerves and comes to stand in front of him. “Not a stranger,” Eames says gently. And he picks up his cup of tea and hands Arthur his coffee. “There you go, love. Careful, that’s hot.”

The coffee is indeed scaldingly hot down his throat, but it suffices in bringing Arthur back to his senses. “Right,” he says, putting down his cup on the counter. “You take your steak bloody, I presume?”

He waves away Eames’ protests and grabs the grill pan for the shortest grill he has ever done. The meat has barely a chance to brown before the vampire next to him declares it done. It’s barely seasoned either, again under Eames’ directions. It’s absolutely not done the way Arthur usually prepares his food, but who is he to argue with any dietary restrictions the vampire has?

He plates the steak and is about to hand it to his impromptu guest, when the guy suddenly darts around him, taking up a strategic spot behind Arthur and with the fridge in the corner of the kitchen at his back. “What the -?”

An angry hiss answers his question. It’s Crookshanks, who stalks into the kitchen like the apex predator he actually is. And Eames is afraid of him, even though he is a 5’ 9” adult male right now instead of a small bat.

Arthur can’t help but laugh. It’s all so ridiculous! He hands the plate to Eames without looking, trusting that the man will take it from him and steps forward to scoop Crookshanks up from the ground. “Silly cat,” he admonishes, shaking the bundle of fur in his arms lightly. “You can’t eat Eames. Come on, outside you go!”

When he comes back into the kitchen, he finds Eames sitting in his spot at the kitchen table, hunched over his plate. The vampire is deliberately not looking at him and the tips of his ears are clearly red. The kids are chattering nonsensically in between bites of their cereal, talking at their new friend but not expecting any real answer.

It’s not until Arthur has made himself some toast and sits down with it, this time next to Eames, that the vampire speaks up again. “If I can use your phone, I can call my friend to see if he can come pick me up.”

“Sure,” Arthur agrees.

After breakfast, Eames calls a friend called Yusuf. Unfortunately, his friend is unable to pick him up right away. “He can be here around noon,” Eames tells Arthur, clearly feeling contrite.

“And you can’t go out during daylight,” Arthur surmises.

Eames shrugs. “Can’t exactly take the bus home, no. Or, I mean, I can. I’ve done it before, when in a pinch. Though I’d have to borrow a duffel coat, or something.” The vampire seems to shrink in on himself. “I can understand if you want me out of here as soon as possible.”

Strangely, Arthur’s first hunch is to reassure Eames that he’s welcome to stay as long as needed. It surprises him. He’s not one to trust easily and he’s always very protective of his honorary niece and nephew. The man across from him is a vampire and, despite his friendly behaviour, still a potential threat. However, Arthur doesn’t think Eames is a danger to them. He can’t pinpoint exactly what makes him think that, it’s not like the vampire has been very generous with information about himself. Still, the facts speak for themselves. Arthur’s been walking around barefoot, dressed in sleep clothes and a bathrobe, with two small kids in tow, and he hasn’t felt threatened by Eames at all. Well, alright, when he first discovered that there was a vampire in the laundry room he panicked a bit, but that fear was quickly diminished by the - unconventionally charming - way Eames presented himself. It’s hard to stay vigilant when the vampire is so easy going.

“Mr Eames? Do you have to go already?” Phillipa and James have popped up right next to them, James actually grabbing the tail of the vampire’s shirt to get his attention.

Eames shows them a warm smile. “That’s kind of up to Arthur.”

Of course, that only serves in having two sets of puppy eyes aimed at Arthur. They’re practically begging him to give in. Great. Now he has to deal not only with his own oddly lowered defences, but the wiles of two little kids too.

He locks eyes with Eames, just for a second, but it’s enough. “Alright, alright. You don’t have to look at me like that. Mr Eames is welcome to stay until his friend can pick him up.”

The kids cheer and the smile that forms on the vampire’s face is blinding. Arthur can’t help but smile too.

They build a blanket fort in the living room. It’s Phillipa’s idea, she loves blanket forts. It also doubles as protection from the sun for their guest vampire, since the living room doesn’t have black out blinds and the sun is climbing higher in the sky.

Eames is in the back of the blanket fort, sitting on a pillow with his back against the sofa. Arthur sits next to him, because he might’ve let the vampire stay, he’s not stupid enough to leave the kids alone with Eames. The back of the blanket fort is also the only place that’s big enough to fit an adult. It’s a bit cramped with two adults though.

The kids are at the entrance of the fort, laying on their bellies and watching Frozen on DVD. Between the kids and Arthur is a serving tray sitting on the floor with glasses of lemonade and a plate of cookies. Arthur has to pull up his legs to prevent himself from kicking over the glasses. He would feel more annoyed about that, if not for the vampire next to him. “This is nice,” Eames said when they first settled in, a hesitant smile on his face and wonder in his eyes. And Arthur just had to agree.

“So you’ve been a vampire since your early twenties?” Arthur asks and Eames nods. They’ve been talking in lowered voices, neither of them very interested in the enchanted snow man and his two princess friends on screen. “You don’t look like you’re twenty. I thought vampires didn’t age?”

Eames laughs. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I bet a lot more people would choose this lifestyle if that were true. But nah, we still age. Just a bit slower.”

“But the sunlight bit is true, right? You said you wouldn’t catch fire, but it still hurts you.”

“Unfortunately.” Eames pulls a face. “I was always very fond of the warmer climates. Turns out, it’s not as fun when you can’t go to the beach.”

“Should’ve thought that through beforehand,” Arthur remarks flippantly, reaching for his glass of lemonade. He’s sat back and taken a drink before he notices the sudden stiffness in the vampire’s posture. When he looks over, Eames avoids his gaze in the dim light of the blanket fort. “Oh, shit. I’ve put my foot in my mouth, haven’t I?”

“Nah, you’re fine, love. Couldn’t have known.” Eames glances over and away again. “Sensitive topic, that’s all.”

They’re quiet for a bit, watching the movie over the kids’ heads. When Elsa sings her famous song, Arthur catches the vampire mouthing along with the words. “What?” Eames asks defensively. “It’s quite the earworm.”

Arthur smiles and picks up on the chorus, making Phillipa sing along too. Eames has a terrible singing voice, it turns out, but that doesn’t stop him one bit.

They watch some Paw Patrol after the movie ends, and a whole lot of Fireman Sam. Arthur gets up a few times, to help James to the bathroom and to remove Crookshanks from their blanket fort, but he keeps crawling back into the fort, taking his spot next to Eames. At some point, they’ve sagged down to lean against each other, shoulder to shoulder, falling into that odd trance from watching too many kids’ shows. When Arthur argues that the town of Pontypandy should just get rid of Norman, that horrible kid that does nothing but cause trouble, he hardly gets a response from Eames. “Fireman Sam should just push him off a cliff,” Arthur states, only to be met with a soft snore from the vampire. Eames has fallen asleep, his head half on Arthur’s shoulder, half leaning against the sofa seat. Arthur can’t bring himself to move.

When the doorbell rings, around noon as was arranged, it causes enough commotion that Arthur is fairly sure Eames doesn’t pick up on the fact that he’d been sleeping on Arthur’s shoulder just before. Just as well, because Arthur has been eating himself up about it for the past hour and is no closer to knowing what it means and if he even wants it to mean something.

Phillipa and James race for the front door and open it to a round faced man with black curls and a friendly smile. “Hello, you must be Yusuf,” Arthur greets, stepping forward with his hand out. “Arthur Freeman.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yusuf says with a smile and a handshake. “Thank you for putting up with this scoundrel. I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble?” He flicks a meaningful look over Arthur’s shoulder, where Eames is hovering in the doorway of the partially glass walled foyer of the house. “I got your coat,” Yusuf says, holding the black duffle coat he’s carrying over one arm up a little.

And then there’s the gathering of things - even though Eames didn’t bring anything with him but the clothes on his back - and the saying of thanks and goodbyes. The vampire apologises again to Phillipa for ruining her “beautifully decorated” craft box and promises James to be more on guard when it comes to cats.

Said cat comes wandering into the hall and Arthur has to scoop him up and hold him because the furry bastard seems way too interested in Eames’ pants legs. Yusuf thinks it’s a delight that Eames got caught by a cat who got named after a character from the Harry Potter franchise, because of course the kids happily fill him in on that.

And just like that, Eames is bundled up in the coat, the hood pulled up and ready to go out the door. His eyes lock with Arthur, the kids, Yusuf and the cat between them, and then he is gone.

Later, after Arthur gets back from taking the kids to the playground to let them get rid of their energy, he finds a handwritten note next to the kitchen phone. It says: Thank you for taking care of me. I didn’t think getting caught by a cat would have its upsides, but meeting you definitely was a big plus. There’s three little x’s at the bottom and a cellphone number.

That night, Arthur curls up on the sofa with a glass of wine and Crookshanks lying on the seat cushion next to him. He snaps a picture of the sleeping cat and sends it to the number that he programmed into his phone that afternoon. [I’ll keep an eye on him. Safe hunting tonight. X Arthur]

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