#he thinks it’s a rite of passage to do stupid to shit your hair as a kid

[patheticgirlsteve]

El goes to Steve for hair advice while she’s growing out her hair. Steve is incredibly honored and touched by this and of course takes it extremely seriously.

[steviesbicrisis]

A lot of things start to make sense since Eddie Munson enters his life.

It goes from the simple things: Eddie patiently explaining the mechanics of D&D so that Dustin would stop using the references against him; Eddie teaching him a few music facts and history, “did you know that Tony Iommi once blew up Richard Branson’s prize carp? Fucking Metal if you ask me”; Eddie helping him fix the drain in his new apartment “with all of your hair you never had to unclog it? You’re such a princess”.

But it’s more than that. Eddie also helps him figure out things about himself.

Like, he can be friends with someone without having that much in common, he’s that type of person who would drop everything he’s doing if someone he cared about would ask it, and also that, apparently, he has a type.

«You clearly have a thing for nerds,» Eddie tells him one day, teasingly.

«What? I definitely don’t!» Steve is outraged that he would even suggest that «I tolerate nerds because for some reason I’m surrounded by them.»

«Oh please! You just told me about your embarrassing crush on Robin, a huge nerd, smart, was in band, and knows like- ten languages. Then there’s Wheeler, also smart, also one of the biggest nerds that Hawkins has ever seen. Don’t let me even touch on the fact that you’re surrounded by baby nerds all the time» Eddie blinds him with a victorious grin «this is why all your other dates go to shit, Harrington. Trust me, date a nerd for a change.»

Steve wants to bite back and prove him wrong but, after Eddie says it, he can’t help think back to his dating history and everything makes sense.

Once again, Eddie helps him figure things out about himself.

But the biggest revelation Eddie helps him out with, comes only after.

Steve finds himself thinking more about this “nerd thing”, and his mind can’t help but go to Eddie himself. He’s a huge nerd, and he has become a big part of his life.

He finds himself noticing small things about him, like what rings he wears on which finger, how he styles his hair depending on his mood, how he smiles when the kids are close to figuring out the plot twists of his campaign, and especially how he always manages to have some sort of physical contact with him, whether by putting an arm on his shoulder, leaning closer to listen to what he’s talking about or grabbing his wrist to get his attention.

He has never been more aware of Eddie’s presence than now, it makes him jumpy but also, he notices, he waits for it, he wants any type of physical contact with him, and even a quick brush on his arm is enough to make his stomach flutter.

And Steve is not stupid. He might be a little oblivious, he might’ve been taught the wrong things -how queer people are the menace of society and how there’s nothing worse than being called “fag” for a man- but he’s been Robin’s best friend for so long that he knows better now.

And he also knows how he feels when he has a crush on someone.

The only option for him is to talk to Robin about it, both of them are surprised at how well Steve is taking it.

Well, he does cry a little bit, he tells Robin that he’s scared, he even tells her that he doesn’t want it, this new part of him that people would not accept him for. She understands, and she’s there every step of Steve’s sexual crisis until he just accepts it.

As if going through a bisexual crisis wasn’t enough, Steve finds himself going through another rite of passage for queer people: falling for a straight person.

Steve and Robin are working their shift at Family Video when a very excited Eddie Munson comes in «Harrington, give me your best romantic crap movie!»

«Eddie Munson, renting a romantic movie? Did aliens abduct you and brainwash you this morning?»

«Ah-ha, very funny! But I can’t do Star Wars on a first date, doesn’t set the right mood. You should know that better than me, lover boy.»

Steve wishes he had prepared himself more for the time Eddie would’ve talked about dating, but he didn’t and now he’s standing there at the counter, completely frozen, doing his best to not let his face fall right in front of his first boy crush. At least, the first one he’s aware of.

«Woah, really? I’m sorry for whoever the unlucky date is» Robin intercepts, and Steve could really kiss her for always knowing how to help him.

Steve can only estrange himself from the conversation, as Eddie is describing this “super hot girl” who is “way out of my league”. Robin ends up being the one helping him with the movie and Steve pretends to be busy with inventory in the back.

Robin comes to find him once Eddie is gone «I gave him the worst romantic movie I could think of.»

Steve chuckles and hugs her tight «thank you.»

Out of all the things Eddie has helped him out with, Steve wishes he would also teach him how to fall out of love with him.

[TBD: I'm fixing it I promise!! Sorry for the straight Eddie content guys lmao]

Part 2 | Part 3

[mmvalentine]

Pomegranate pt 5 | Feysand

Hades/ Persephone inspired AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Rhys stays up most of that night with Cassian and Amren, making battle plans. The Night Court is far north enough that they aren’t in immediate danger. The same cannot be said for the Spring Court.

Since Hybern is already in the mortal lands, they are closer to the Spring Court than Rhys’s armies. He starts them travelling that very day, and then in the evening, is back in Feyre’s room. She is in his arms almost as soon as he winnows in.

“Hello lover,” he says into her hair.

“You still haven’t slept, have you?” she asks. Rhys doesn’t answer.

“Any response from Tamlin about the Hybern attack?” he says instead.

“Just one,” Feyre replies dryly, and then pulls back enough to meet his eyes. Rhys blanches.

Feyre’s face is mottled with bruises on her chin and temple. There’s an ugly gash across her left cheek, and a small cut in her eyebrow. Rhys’s knees give slightly, and he pulls her to sit on the bed before kneeling in front of her and inspecting her face and body. There are cuts on her hands, too. “Tamlin says, how dare you side with that night court whelp over your own father,” Feyre recites. “If I say Hybern isn’t a threat then it isn’t a threat. Stupid stubborn bastard.”

“He hit you?” Rhys said. His jaw is clenched so tight Feyre can see the muscles jump. Feyre’s laugh is brittle.

“Oh no,” she says. “He never hits me himself. He just… explodes things in my vicinity. And then he panics and says I shouldn’t have been standing so close. Or pressed him after he said to stop. Once, he actually told me I should have thicker skin.”

A snarl builds in Rhys’s throat, but Feyre touches his cheek.

“I’m okay, Rhys. They’re just scratches.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Rhys. Don’t do anything dumb. Besides, whenever he really loses it at me he usually feels so guilty that he lets me out again. You know, until he finds another reason to lock me up.”

Rhys looked up at that. “So you’re free to go?”

“He hasn’t said anything yet, but he usually waits until breakfast anyway.”

“Well fuck waiting. Just come with me tonight, leave Tamlin for Hybern.”

“And abandon my own court? Would you do it?”

She has him there. Rhys sits back on his heels and drops his forehead to her knee. “I don’t know when they’re coming,” he says. “And I can’t just leave you waiting. Not when Tamlin’s doing this shit to you.”

“Okay, then stay here,” Feyre says. He looks up at here.

“Stay with you?” he asks.

“Yeah. I never like it when you leave anyway. And you need to get some sleep. Seriously.”

He looks at her and the anguish stings his eyes like hot tears. Hybern is coming. Tamlin is hurting Feyre. She’s asking him to sleep in her bed. There are too many things to feel.

“Come on,” Feyre says gently. She tugs him off his knees. “Come to bed.”

Rhys lets her pull him up into the bed. He toes off his boots and shrugs his arms out of his jacket and shirt, sending them in to a pocket realm in case someone comes in and finds his things on the floor. Feyre blows out the candle on the table by the bed, and gets under the sheets with him. He pulls her against him, and nuzzles her face into her shoulder.

“My armies are on their way,” he says. “Hybern won’t win.”

“Sleep now, Rhysand,” Feyre whispers, and he doesn’t think he could just fall asleep when he’s wrapped around this girl in her bed, but she hums a lilting song under her breath and he does.

///

Feyre wakes Rhys early in the morning by tracing her fingertips over the contours of his face. Travels the mountains of his cheekbones and the planes of his nose. Trips over the valleys of the crease above his eyelids, and is just brushing over his lips when his fingers tighten at her waist.

“Hello you,” Feyre says softly.

Rhys’s eyes open slowly, and he loves that she is the first thing he sees in the morning. The dawn light is filtering in through Feyre’s gauzy white curtains, and catches in the loose strands of her honey-gold hair.

“Hello my favourite flower.” His voice is scratchy with sleep.

Feyre’s hands are now trailing down his bare chest, and he watches her studying his tattoos. His hands start to wander, too, and he can feel the heat of her skin through the short satin night gown that he doesn’t remember if she was wearing when he got in last night.

“What do these mean?” Feyre asks quietly. Rhys uses his ankles to tug one of Feyre’s legs between his, and strokes down her flank again.

“It’s sort of a rite of passage for Illyrian warriors,” he tells her, now swirling a finger up her arm and over the top of her bare shoulder. Her skin in contrast is creamy white and unblemished.

“Did they hurt?” she says. She’s now following the tattoos over his biceps.

“Yes,” Rhys replies, with a smile in his voice. His throat bobs. “But it was worth it to have you touching me like that.”

Feyre smacks him lightly and pulls her hands back, but Rhys grabs them and places them back on his chest. “Don’t stop,” he says.

Feyre meets his eyes then, and in the dawn light Rhys finds flecks of gold in her blue-grey stare. He circles his arms around her and pulls her closer in. “I’ll never get tired of your hands on me,” he murmurs. Feyre’s gaze drops to his mouth then, and she blushes slightly but her fingers start to move again. Cautiously at first, up his chest and over his shoulders. Rhys closes his eyes and breathes deeply while she does it. Feyre rubs a little more firmly down his arms and back up. The next pass down, she scratches lightly and a rumble stirs low in Rhys’s chest. His fingers twitch around her waist.

Feyre runs her nails up and then down his back, and now Rhys can’t keep his own hands still. He makes broad strokes over her back, too, fingertips following the line of her spine from the nape of the neck all the way down her backside. Back and forth, slow and leisurely, while Feyre’s hands slide under his hair and scrape down the back of his neck. The next time Rhys reaches Feyre’s ass, he keeps going and brushes her pussy through her underwear.

Feyre’s touch stutters, but she doesn’t make a sound. Moves her hands down his chest and over his abs, while his travel back up. And then back down.

With every pass he pushes his fingers against the growing heat of her, and on the third stroke he can feel her getting wet through the cotton. Rhys pauses, and then pushes her underwear to the side so he can feel her. When his fingers slide down the bare core of her, Feyre moans softly and it’s all Rhys needs to be rolling smoothly over her with his erection pressed firmly at her centre.

“I’m going to vanish our clothes now,” he says, an inch from her nose.

“Okay,” Feyre says breathlessly.

Rhys does so, in a moment between moving his body down and back up hers. They both breathe sharply when they find nothing separating their skin, and Rhys gets achingly hard between her legs. He holds still for a minute.

“Just a reminder that we have to be quiet,” he grits out. “Is this a terrible idea?”

“Yes,” Feyre says. She grins like sunshine through clouds. “Let’s do it anyway.” She rolls her hips beneath him and Rhys is moving again. He snaps his wings out and cocoons the both of them, as if that will help stifle sound. He puts his mouth on hers, and a second later he’s shifting between her legs and pushing against her pussy.

Feyre gasps slightly, but Rhys just kisses it from her lips as he focuses on going slow. Her breathing shallows but he’s holding his breath until he hits his hilt, and then he exhales hard against Feyre’s neck. She is so impossibly tight around him and she’s got her hands under his jaw now. He looks at her, and tries to anchor himself in her eyes as he pulls out just as slowly and then pushes back in.

“I fucking love you,” Rhys whispers to her, and then he moves again. Feyre tries to reply, but can’t form the words. She tries to hold onto his gaze but her eyes roll back as her body adjusts to the size of him and he starts to speed up. Just a little.

“It’s okay,” Rhys tells her. “I’ve got you. Keep your eyes on me.” With some effort Feyre pulls her head back up. “That’s it,” he croons, and then fucks her a little harder. Leans down to press a kiss to her lips, but doesn’t break his rhythm.

“Rhys,” Feyre gasps.

“Yeah honey?”

Feyre opens and closes her mouth, but can only manage his name again. “Rhys…”

“I know.” Rhys slides his hand between them and touches his fingers to her clit. His hips are relentless, and Feyre can’t catch her breath.

“Rhys I… oh gods I…”

“What’s that, petal?” She doesn’t know how he sounds so calm.

Rhys sits up onto his heels, and the angle deepens. He’s circling his thumb over her clit now, and Feyre’s eyes squeeze shut again.

“Open them sweetheart, please,” Rhys murmurs. He curls one hand under her thigh to bring her in closer to him. “I just want you here with me.”

Feyre forces her eyes open, but it’s so much more intense when they’re watching each other.

“I can’t,” she whimpers.

Rhys drops back down over her, and hovers his face above hers.

“It’s just me,” he whispers to her. “I’m right here.”

Feyre moves her hands to his face and somehow, with him this close, it is easier. The room fades away and his violet eyes fill her vision, and then they’re back in the field of wildflowers and they are the only things in the whole world.

“Good girl,” Rhys breathes. He moves his mouth on her nipple, then her neck, then her lips. Feyre's hands are on his ass and pulling him in further now, and he gets drunk on how much she wants him, too. Rhys watches her for a minute, then whispers in her ear. “I want you to come for me.”

And out of nowhere there it is, her climax is right behind her. Feyre holds onto Rhys more tightly as her breaths come fast and shallow, and there’s a moment she’s lost and her knees are gripping Rhys’s hips for dear life while his fingers move deftly between them and then the orgasm is bursting behind her eyelids and Rhys’s hand is clamping down over her mouth so she doesn’t make a sound.

Feyre shakes violently as the waves ebb, his wings tightening around her. Rhys takes his hand away and kisses her lips. She’s coasting on the come down when she realises Rhys has started to build his rhythm back up. He’s got his mouth at the hollow of her throat now and his hand squeezing over her breast, and before she knows it the spiral is tightening again.

“Come again honey,” Rhys says huskily.

“And you too?” Feyre asks.

“Yeah,” Rhys manages. His thumb is flicking over her nipple in time with the one over her clit. “I’ll come if you come.”

Rhys’s hips are getting erratic now and finally he is unravelling. Feyre is satisfied. She pushes her fingertips against his wings and listens to his breathing change, and then she’s floating again. She forgets to keep eye contact but at this point she can’t care about anything at all.

Rhys watches her eyes roll and her face flush. He loves her reactions to him, loves being able to watch her orgasm sneak up on her and the glorious look of almost surprise when it hits. Most of all he loves the way her pussy clenches tight around his cock when she comes, and this time when it happens he loses it and he’s right there with her, and he yells as he comes before biting down hard on his lip to keep himself quiet.

Their bodies shudder together and Rhys gathers Feyre close to him as they chase their breath. He takes in lungfuls of the scent of her and it is minutes before he finally pulls out and cleans them up with magic. Rhys has just gotten his arms back around Feyre and closed his eyes when there is a crash in the hallway outside.

Feyre sits bolt upright and looks at him with terror in her eyes. “My father,” she says.

But Rhys can hear shouting minds in the corridors. “No,” he says, sitting up more slowly. “Hybern. They're here.”

**** Happy weekend my loves! Wishing you all a wonderful day xx

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @tanvee1231

[lancelotdeservedbetter]

a lot of people in the notes of this post are saying Will and Gwaine would have been friends and those people are absolutely right here's my thoughts on that:

- we know Gwaine subscribes to havoc as a lifestyle but Will doesn't necessarily aim for chaos he just does what he likes. this makes them a hazard to society and Arthur's waking nightmare. They make a Leon wig so Will can pretend to be him and undo all of Arthur's orders that he doesn't like. Will goes with Gwaine on patrol so he can secretly free prisoners that want to kill Arthur. just to keep things interesting.

- one day Will finds out Gwaine is technically a noble and acts like its the betrayal of the century. fuck whatever Mordred and Arthur have going on, this is a million times worse. Will forgives him after a week when he realises he can get Gwaine to do pretty much anything and say it's a peasant rite of passage and this goes on for days with Merlin and Gwen's compliance until Percival takes pity on Gwaine after finding him buried in dirt up to his neck

Percival: whatcha doing there buddy?

Gwaine, who's been trodden on twice now: it's a farmer rite of passage, i grow out of the dirt like the crops they farm, will told me. its an honour.

- sometimes Will will be telling a Merlin story and forget that Gwaine doesn't know about his magic and panics to come up with an excuse

Gwaine: wow!! how did he do that?

Will: uhhh

Merlin, the next day storming up to Will and covered in mud and leaves: why the FUCK did you tell Gwaine i could fly???

- knowing his usual conflict resolution methods would most likely end in public execution, Will decides instead to make the most of how easy it is to stress Arthur out. Gwaine is on board of course and together they go out of their way to meet with every single visiting royal ten minutes before arthur greets them and convince them to pretend to declare war on Arthur. it has worked way more times than it should. Arthur catches on eventually but this backfires when someone actually declares war on him and Arthur starts yelling at Will and Gwaine.

King of somewherelseland: i'm here to announce that i think you and your council are shit. my army will be here tomorrow.

Arthur, at the top of his lungs: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. THE TWO OF YOU ARE STILL DOING THIS? IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY!

Will: it's hilarious but i do feel like i should tell you that-

Arthur: NO! I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT! DO NOT SAY ANYTHING! I HAVE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH YOU!

Gwaine: ok but we didn't actually do anything this time

Arthur, going very pale: you what

the king is so confused that he just tells them to forget about it and runs away and tells his men not to go to Camelot because the people there are insane

- Gwaine desperately tries to convince Will to become a knight but Will maintains that he would rather eat a human foot. desperate, Gwaine appears in his house one day with a foot

Gwaine, frantically squirting ketchup on the foot: now will you be a knight?

Will: i have so many questions that i know i dont want to hear the answers to. also you have severely misunderstood. that is not how this works

Will eventually compromises and comes to a training session. much to Arthur's frustration, he beats several knights because his fighting style is less swords and honour and more move bitch get out the way shoving.

- they have an ongoing game called 'how many petty crimes can we commit in front of Arthur without getting caught'. Unfortunately, Arthur is stupid and doesn't seem to notice unless they steal people's clothes and wear them in front of him, so this becomes the main objective. Arthur is semi-aware of this but doesn't have enough evidence to punish either of them. the closest they've come to being rumbled is when Gwaine wears Morgana's green dress to a council meeting

Arthur: stealing! that is definitely stealing!

Gwaine: sounds like somebody's jealous i can pull this off and he cant

Arthur: Morgana please back me up

Morgana, thoroughly enjoying how much this annoys Arthur: on what? i've never seen this dress before in my life.

- Gwaine keeps trying to get Will to grow his hair out so that he can plait it then tries to plait it anyway when he says no. Will swats away him to begin with but after he doesn't stop he cuts off Gwaine's hair while he's asleep. Gwaine is much angrier than anticipated so Will panics and pulls an Uther

Gwaine: who did this i will kill them i swear to god somebody is going to die tonight

Will, realising there's a pretty good chance Gwaine will fling him out of a high window: it must be sorcery! evil and not requiring any explanation! well that's settled let's never speak of it again-

Gwaine, sword drawn and hissing at the door: the bastards who did this must pay

Will, sweating buckets and blood pressure through the roof goes to Merlin

Will: Merlin this is it. this is how i die

Merlin: it's cool i have like three guys you can pin this on that are all very annoying. wait no he would murder them brutally for this. have you heard of nimueh?

Will: didn't you kill her?

Merlin: yeah well Gwaine doesn't know much about ghosts and i'm fairly certain we can convince him she did this

in conclusion:

[supercorpkid]

The adventures of Superboy and Superkid.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 1980.

When Conner shows up at your school you already know what to expect. Trouble. Every time Superboy shows up in your life things get simply out of control. He is there, waiting for you, with his incredibly long shoulders, a body that no teenage boy can actually build, and a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

“Oh my God, oh my God. Conner is here.” Jamie is smiling so much next to you that you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I can see that. He’s basically impossible to miss.” He waves at you, and you nod back walking towards him.

“Ok, listen, this time you have to help me.” You know what she’s talking about. She likes Conner. I mean, she and half of the girls in the school are basically making heart eyes at him right now.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Conner usually doesn’t show up to go on dates, he usually shows up asking for help because he did something stupid.” You answer, but you don’t think Jamie was listening to any of it.

“Cousin!” Conner says excitedly and you smile.

“Hey lab rat!” You come close enough and he pulls you in for a hug so tight is almost like he missed you. You smile again. You missed him too.

You’ve been calling each other lab rats for a while now. It’s insane to think that Conner is made from Superman’s DNA plus Lex Luthor’s. He’s somehow your cousin twice. And since you both were made in a lab, you two like to joke and call each other lab rats.

“Hey Jamie.” He says after he lets you go. They stare into each other’s eyes for a few good seconds. “Still looking pretty, I see.”

“Oh, hi Conner.” She smiles shyly. “Still looking handsome and all.”

He shrugs and smiles a little cocky. You roll your eyes at the whole interaction.

“So, what brings you to National City, lab rat?” You intervene before they start undressing themselves with their eyes.

“Oh, I just missed my cute little cousin.” He messes with your hair. You sigh.

“Cut the crap and tell me what happened.” He looks around telling you this is not the right place and you agree with your head. “Well, say goodbye now. We have to go.”

They hug, a really long hug. And Jamie is being weird and smelling his hair. They are so odd, and you have no idea why they just don’t kiss already.

“Bye, pretty.” Conner says and Jamie answers with instant heart eyes. You sigh again and pull him grabbing his t-shirt. He walks beside you and you two find an alley to make sure no one can see you both flying away to somewhere more private. You get to your training center; you take off your glasses to make sure no one’s around and he looks around too. He then comes back to you. “So, how have you been, lab rat?”

“I wanna say fine, but that would be a lie. Got shot with kryptonite the other day.”

“Really? That shit is painful right?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s horrible.” You are almost opening up more when you remember why you’re there. “So, what have you done now?”

“I might have pissed off Mister Freeze.” Conner starts and you already know so much more is coming. “He was doing some suspicious shit and I went to stop him, but it didn’t go very well. I didn’t know I could freeze. Did you know we could freeze?”

“You idiot!” You slap his chest and he doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m sure you’re right, but why this time?”

“Why would you try to stop him alone? Why didn’t you ask for Batman’s help? Or Batwoman’s, I don’t know.” You’re annoyed. Conner never thinks before acting and Mister Freeze is Batman’s villain or whatever.

“I can take him!” He crosses his arms making his chest grow even bigger.

“Then what are you doing here?” You raise an eyebrow and he smiles.

“We can take him!”

“Oh, dear Rao, I swear you’re going to be my downfall one of these days.”

“Yeah, but like, not today.” Conner smiles at you. “Come on, lab rat. We haven’t been on an adventure in a while. I promise your moms won’t hear a word about it.”

“Yeah, I don’t care about that.” You smile back at him. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to Gotham and kick some ass.”

You know you shouldn’t do something like this, and you also know it would be a lot easier to just call Supergirl and she could end this whole thing in less than a second. Come on, Mister Freeze got nothing on her. But you still want to prove your worth and you can hold your own in a fight. This could be a good opportunity, if you don’t mess it up.

“Yeah! Ok! Let’s do it. Team lab rats working together again.” Conner gets excited really fast. “Oh, let’s change into our superhero clothes.”

His superhero’s clothes consist in a black tight t-shirt with the symbol of the House of El and a pair of jeans, which is stupid. Your superhero’s clothes are, somehow, even stupider, because is Kara’s old suit minus the cape and the boots. Honestly, you look like a bad Supergirl’s cosplay.

“You look great! Very Supergirl-ish.” He holds his thumbs up with a smile.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, the skirt is nice.”

“Seriously, shut up.” You punch him in the arm and he laughs. “Come on, Superboy, lead the way.”

Conner flies away and you follow him to Gotham. When you land there, you already know everything that’s been going on in his life since the last time you saw him and vice-versa. He leads you to the front of an ice castle and you breathe the new air. Gotham’s air sucks. Actually, Gotham sucks entirely.

“That’s his evil lair.” He points and you scoff.

“Fortress of Solitude rip-off.” You say and he looks at you confused.

“Haven’t been.” He shrugs, making you smile apologetic. You can’t believe Superman hasn’t taken him there yet. The whole experience is almost like a rite of passage. “Anyways, what do we do? Just burst in there and like, kick his ass?”

“Why am I not surprised that you don’t have a plan?” You ask, making him laugh and you have to think of a plan on the spot. “Ok, you already pissed him off so, yeah, you burst in there and distract him while I sneak in and try to figure out his plan and a way to ruin it.”

“See, that’s why we make such a great team.” He looks way too excited to do this. He studies your face for a while. “Are you scared?”

“No! I just have this terrified look on my face because we’re going to have so much fun!” You say ironically and he nods excitedly. He is like a puppy.

“Come on! It is kind of fun.” He pokes your arm and you roll your eyes.

“What is wrong with you? Is this because you were created in a lab?” You make fun of him and he laughs unbothered.

“Ok, where’s the girl that destroyed an entire mountain?” Now is his turn to make fun of you.

“I shouldn’t have told you about that.”

“Well, you did. Now you’re going to march in there and find out his plans and crush him into pieces for freezing your favorite cousin.” You just look at him blankly until he sighs and adds. “After Jamie.”

“Ok. Let’s do it! Let’s kick his ass and show my momma that I’m all about that superhero’s life.”

“Ok, ok. Slightly different motive. Still works. Let’s do it!” You two highfive and then he flies into the ice castle. You can see him breaking everything and you wait a little to go inside. When you do, you see Conner in a pretty heated argument turning into a fight with Mister Freeze, distracting him enough. It doesn’t take you long to find his evil plan. You might not know exactly what the machine does, but you know for sure it’s not a house heater. One shot with the heat vision and the whole thing explodes.

You fly away from the explosion and go to where the fight is happening to help Conner. He is inside a large block of ice. You can’t believe he got frozen twice. Such a loser. You shot the block of ice with your heat vision just in time, because soon Mister Freeze notices your presence.

“This isn’t your fight, Supergirl.” He says to you.

“Well, I’m not Supergirl, so…” You fly towards him with a close fist and hit him right in the face throwing him backwards.

Superboy finally completely unfreezes himself and joins you. While Mister Freeze is distracted with Conner, you pick up his own gun and shoot him. Soon he’s the one stuck in a very large block of ice.

“Yeah!” Conner celebrates throwing his fist in the air. “The lab rats do it again!”

You two laugh and hug. Then you realize you’re still in a super villain’s lair and that you two probably look really pathetic right now, so you stop the whole celebration part.

“Well, Superboy, hope to see you a lot more and, at the same time, a lot less.” You say with a playful laugh and he smiles at you.

“See you around, cousin.”

You fly back to National City with a proud smile on your face. You kicked some serious butt today and it wasn’t even that hard. Granted this super villain is kind of a mess, but you did it. Well, you and Superboy, anyways.

You’re back home with time to spare for dinner. Your moms are in the kitchen when you walk in and they both turn to you as soon as you step in.

“Hey kid! We’re making dinner, come help us.” Kara says with a smile and you sit on the other side of the counter. She realizes you’re not going to help. “Or you can just sit and watch.”

“Sure. I’m great at that.” You smile picking a baby carrot that Lena is currently putting in the salad. She looks at you and smiles.

“How was your day, babygirl?” Lena asks and you look at your backpack on the floor next to you. The super suit tucked in there and you smile lightly.

“Eh.” You pick another carrot from the plate. “It was fine. Yours?”

“So, nothing exciting happened today?” Kara asks. She has her back turned to you so you can’t see her face. You swallow.

“Um. Not particularly. Did something exciting happen to you?”

“Actually, yes.” Kara turns to you and looks right at your lying face. “Apparently, Supergirl was spotted in Gotham today.”

“Oh, you went to Gotham?” Lena asks looking at Kara.

“I did not. But she was there, y’know. Old suit in all its glory. Minus the cape.”

“Yeah, what is the cape for anyway? Capes don’t seem very useful. And it can get caught in an airplane propeller and like…” Kara and Lena just raise their eyebrows at you and you shut up.

“She also looked a lot younger.” Kara keeps going and you hold your breath. You got caught. No more running from it.

“Conner needed help.”

“Ah. Of course.” Lena laughs.

“Oh yes, Superboy was there too, did I forget to mention?” She says elbowing Lena and they just smile at each other like they know a secret you don’t. “So, did he have your back?”

“More like I had his.” You say with a cocky smile.

“Lucky him.” Kara winks at you and turns on her heels back to do whatever she was doing before. Lena is still cutting the vegetables and you stand there for a full minute waiting for them to ground you or yell at you, but they just go on with the dinner.

“That’s it? No lecture about going to Gotham and bursting into some super villain’s lair and destroying his evil plans?” You ask confused and Kara turns her face to look at you.

“No. Why? Did you do it wrong?”

“I-No!”

“Great. Oh, next time, maybe use your own suit.” Kara says and you furrow your brows.

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Well, then I guess we have to work on that.” Kara smiles again and you’re shocked. Did you really fly all the way to Gotham city to help Superboy and your momma just rewarded you with a super suit? I mean you’re not complaining, but is that really what just happened?

Notes:

I used Superboy origin story from the Titans show. Thought it made sense :)

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

More Awesome NPCs of Ravnica

NPCs are one of the most important tools in a DM’s campaign. Your assorted guards, informants, bartenders, hench-persons, random civilians, and, of course, your quest-givers. Optimistically, you hope to have certain NPCs stick around for a while to have the party build a relationship with them, as opposed to getting murder-hobo-ed because your party doesn’t like their attitude. Which is why it’s so great that Ravnica is filled with cool NPCs who are definitely stronger than your party (for a while)!

A couple notes; I already did a list of Awesome NPCs, focusing on the Ladies of Ravnica, so this time I thought I’d try and give the boys (and Melek) some spotlight. Secondly, as I’ve by now made annoyingly apparent, I’m focusing on characters in the modern era of Ravnica, i.e. after the Decamillennial, because everything before the Decamillennial is a nightmare to figure out and you don’t need that headache.

Tajic, Blade of the Legion

You can’t have the Boros without Tajic. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. Tajic is the Legion’s Champion as well as their Mazerunner, and embodies all the ideals the Legion stands for. Unity, strength, passion; an unbreakable shield against all who would threaten Ravnica’s citizens. He is technically considered a Firefist, but special considerations should be made to give him the flavor he really deserves. Both of Tajic’s MTG cards have had some manner of protection against damage when involving other creatures. In addition, Firefists are actually primarily spellcasters, whereas Tajic is never seen without a blade in his hand or his name. So, to sum up, take a Firefist, add in some manner of damage resistance or even immunity contingent upon having allies present, throw in a weapon trick or two for his big wavy sword, and ta-da! You’ve got Tajic!

Momir Vig, Simic Visionary

I know I said no pre-Decamillennial, but Momir Vig is a special case. Technically, the former Guildmaster is dead, but the shadow of his reign still lingers over the Simic Combine. Momir Vig symbolizes everything Ravnica fears about the Combine; progress without restraint. Vig’s cytoplasts were oozes designed for personalized evolution in subjects to correct flaws and deficiencies (regrowing lost limbs, bolstering weakened immune systems, extra brain cells, etc). The only problem is that the project worked so well that Vig stopped seeing the need for consent, creating a new form of cytoplast that only needs to touch a host to bond with it. This raised some understandable concerns among Ravnican citizens, as well as the other Guilds. These concerns went to 11 when Vig’s Project Kraj, a gargantuan organism composed of thousands of cytoplasts, was activated to purge Ravnica and start over with a fresh slate. They went to a further 12 when Vig was killed, Project Kraj summoned every cytoplasm back to it (maiming, crippling, or killing a large number of hosts), and proceeded to go on a rampage that only ended after it ate Rakdos and went into a coma.

Momir Vig is exactly the kind of mad scientist to escape the grave, go underground, and continue his research unimpeded until it’s ready. A Rogue Guildmaster with no boundaries, or as we like to call it, a ready-made Big Bad.

Melek, Izzet Paragon

As with Vig, Melek is canonically dead, but that sort of “dead” that could conceivably be temporary if the story requires it. Melek is a Weird designed by Niv-Mizzet himself to be the Izzet Mazerunner. A certain sparkmage had other ideas however, so he absorbed the sentient being of pure elemental energy into himself at the start of the Maze and took its place, then tried to shock the other runners to death because, you know, winning. But following the physics principle that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed into a different form, it’s believable that Melek could return someday. Probably with a grudge against said sparkmage. Melek is a fascinating build, combining high-level spellcasting with complete elemental resistance or possibly even immunity. Basically, a wizard who can tank. Even more intriguing, any lab run by a being composed of pure energy would be calibrated to channel said energy, possibly allowing short-range teleportation within said lab. This is a brilliant exercise in lair mechanics, so don’t hold back. Lest we forget Melek is a personal project of the Firemind, aka, the single most brilliant, powerful, and egocentric fire-breathing ancient dragon wizard in Ravnican history.

Tomik Vrona, Distinguished Advokist

Given the Orzhov Syndicate’s seeming fascination with being a faceless hierarchy of priests, lawmages, ghosts, tax collectors, etc; it’s nice to have another face with a name. Tomik Vrona is a lawmage who apprenticed under Teysa Karlov herself, making him a master of Ravnican law. It also makes him uncharacteristically open to relationships with other Guilds, as he is effectively Teysa’s link to the outside world during her imprisonment. Tomik carries a strong respect for the law, but is a passionate lover of interesting & creative loopholes. In short, he’s not inherently evil/greedy like most of the Syndicate, but still has ambition in spades. He prefers to use gargoyles for transportation, treasures every book he owns, and is canonically dating/living with that hot-tempered sparkmage mentioned previously. Whether the relationship is public or not is up to you. I personally see it as a measure of trust between the NPCs and the party; it’s a pretty controversial pairing of Guilds. It could even be a Romeo & Juliet (Julio?) kind of affair, just putting that out there.

Vorel of Hull Clade

If Momir Vig represents the dark side of the Simic Combine’s experiments, Vorel represents the infinite possibility they can offer. A former Gruul shaman, he made the decision to give up a piece of his clan’s territory to a Boros Legion garrison to better fortify their home turf, and was nearly killed when they turned on him for perceived cowardice. Vorel escaped and joined the Combine, where he was given Merfolk traits and an environment that embraced his ideas & strategic thinking. Vorel is extremely grateful to his new Guild, and believes himself to be an example of how anything is possible through the Simic, no matter one’s origins. His strong passion & drive have led to great breakthroughs, but he’s definitely more emotionally-driven than most Simic researchers. Here is a Biomancer that isn’t afraid to get dirty or bloody in combat. This could be a fun experiment in crafting a Simic Melee Weapon.

Tolsimir Wolfblood, Ledev Guardian

You know that one leader elf in fantasy stories who everyone else takes orders from but never fights themselves? Yeah, this isn’t that elf. This is what you wish that elf was, a warrior archer who leads his soldiers into battle atop a giant dire wolf and kicks some serious ass. The Ledev are Selesnya’s elite mounted force, skilled fighters, archers, swordsmen, and even spellcasters. They are the cavalry, the breaking dawn on Hornburg, the “oh shit” in an enemy’s mouth. Please don’t make the mistakes of countless fantasy novels by being on bad terms with such badass warriors. Having any member of the Ledev behind you should be a boost to the party’s courage & resolve. Having Tolsimir fight alongside you should be one of the greatest honors of your life. The chance to finally recreate that “besties” relationship between Legolas & Gimli as you see who can kill the most enemies in battle.

Domri Rade, City Smasher

I hesitate to include Domri, I genuinely do. He’s a scraggly little punk who nearly brought about the destruction of the Gruul (and all of Ravnica) ultimately because he was too weak and too stupid. I include him here out of respect for the lore, but you can honestly do better. Domri Rade was considered too small & weak for any Gruul clan, so he instead bonded with the savage animals of the Rubblebelt, eventually discovering he could incite them into stampedes at will. This new power finally granted him admission into Borborygmos’ own Burning Tree Clan, but he panicked during the burial rite of passage and planeswalked away for the first time. Eventually he learned to control his powers, returned to the Rubblebelt, challenged Borborygmos for leadership of the Burning Tree clan, and won by sending wave after wave of stampeding boars to trample the cyclops Guildmaster. He was enlisted by Nicol Bolas to help destroy Ravnica, and failed to realize that meant him too as an eternal ripped out his Planeswalker Spark, killing him. Domri Rade is basically a cheap knockoff of Garruk Wildspeaker, only smaller and weaker and dumber and infinitely less dangerous. He is, however, considered by many to be an omen of the End-Raze, heralding the return of the Boar God Ilharg and the burning down of Ravnica by the Gruul who follow the Old Ways. So maybe play up that angle if you include him in your campaign.

Ral Zarek, Izzet Viceroy

If you only include one NPC from any of my lists in your Ravnica campaign, you must include Ral Zarek. Failing to do so is denying your players the opportunity to interact with the single coolest character in Ravnica. He beats out Vraska for the sole reason that he’s a much more public & accessible figure than the Gorgon Assassin, and an unexpected encounter with him is significantly less likely to end in your death/petrification. Between his good looks, cocky grin, brilliant mind, and lightning powers that put Thor to shame; Ral is certain to make any situation more interesting. He’s a great contact to have within the Izzet, a brilliant researcher, extremely talented with designing gadgets or magic items, an astonishingly powerful magic user, and a fun guy to hang around with. He can definitely have a temper on him, so understand when to back away. Hint: His hair turns from black to white when his electromancy powers are activating. You’ll also probably notice the sounds of static discharge building up around him, perhaps a faint smell of ozone, crackling energy coming from his gauntlet, and, oh yeah, his eyes glow and his smile turns into a growling grimace of death as he fills you with lightning. Whether by design or accident, Ral is basically the mascot for Ravnica, and it’s almost unthinkable for him to be absent from a campaign set there.

[fearfulkittenwrites]

“I’m allergic to bullshit” and Stealing the batmobile

Summary: The Robins have the awful habit of stealing the batmobile (it comes with the mantle), and Steph and Tim are no exception. But they are surrounded by very perceptive vigilantes, and the task becomes a little impossible with a full house.

“Steph, Tim...” Dick called as they got off the stairs, arms crossing as he stopped “What are you doing?”

Word count: 1176

Notes: Hey! This work was beta'd by @3ambird��, thank you so much for the help! They are absolutely amazing, and helped me so much with this work! Also, it was requested by @pricetagofficial​ so this is a reminder that you can always come talk to me and request me stuff! Thank you for clicking this work, I hope you like it!

Link for it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310628

Dick and Jason were sitting across from each other on the couch, each of them trying to gain more space with his feet, lightly kicking and pushing the other’s legs. Cass never quite understood why they did it, since the manor had more than enough couches for both of the huge men. Duke got back from the kitchen, and he handed his sister a glass of water before settling down on the armchair across from her spot.

“So, where is Damian again?” Duke asks Dick, taking his focus away from the intense war of feet.

“Hm? Oh, he’s with Bruce on that golfing thing for charity or whatever.” Dick answers, getting kicked in the butt for ignoring Jay. “Ow!” He retaliates, kicking at Jason’s legs “I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

“What about Steph and Tim? Did they go too?” Duke asks again, ignoring the fight as his brothers keep moving around.

“Nah, they’re still around.” Dick replies, smirking as his foot pushes Jason’s face away, muffling his voice.

“Are you sure? Because if that’s so, they’re awfully quiet...” Duke points out.

“They went down to the Cave.” Cass says.

All of them freeze and go silent for a moment.

“Oh, shit.” Dick exclaims. Suddenly, the four batkids leap from the couch and rush to the batcave, all of them in such a hurry that Jason forgets to put on his shoes, meaning he won’t stop complaining as he steps on the cold metal stairs down to the cave.

“Steph, Tim...” Dick called as they got off the stairs, arms crossing as he stopped “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” The blonde girl answers from the vehicle bay, her head popping up from behind the batmobile.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me.” Jason teases, stopping next to Dick.

“We were making out.” Tim says.

“Sure.” Duke states almost cynically, as Tim was not nearly flustered enough for that to be true. “Why were you making out in your uniforms, behind the batmobile?”

“The batcave can be very romantic...?” He tries.

Cass gives them a look that clearly means ‘seriously?’.

“Alright, human lie detector,” Tim starts, standing up “We weren’t making out.”

“Like that wasn’t obvious.” Steph complains, rolling her eyes.

“Hey!” Tim exclaims “I didn’t see you trying to cover our asses.”

“And why do you need to cover your asses?” Dick asks.

“Uhhhhh, no reason.” The teen puts his hands behind his back while Steph covers her face with a hand, clearly done with Tim’s terrible deflections.

“How can someone be so brilliant and so stupid at the same time?” She mutters.

“You think I’m brilliant?” Tim smiles.

“And stupid.” Jason points out “Just so we’re clear.”

“How come you can lie to B with a blank face, but now you’re a total mess?” Duke crosses his arms.

“With Bruce it’s usually after I’ve done whatever he’s calling me out for. I never prepared for this.” Tim explains.

“That’s a lie.” Steph cuts in, rolling her eyes yet again “He admitted yesterday that he just can’t lie to Dick.”

“Damn straight.” Dick says, a smile on his face as Tim blushes and stutters after her statement “So, tell me Tim, what were you two planning on doing?”

“We were...”

“Waxing the Batmobile!” Steph stepped in, a little desperate.

Jason’s tongue slipped through his lips before he bursted out laughing until he got red in the face.

“Yeah, okay, what were you really doing?” Dick asks, Jason still laughing like a mad man behind him, being briefly joined by Duke, who was incredibly amused by the vigilante’s laughter.

“What?” Steph tries “Why don’t you believe me? We just wanted to surprise Bruce. Make a nice thing for him, y’know?”

Jason starts coughing his lungs out, probably due to all the laughter. Dick sighs, turning around and patting his biggest little brother’s back.

“I told you to stop smoking.” He murmurs.

“No, it’s not that...” Jason struggled to catch his breath “I think that I might be allergic to bullshit. Your bullshit, specifically.” He points to Steph.

“Oh, shut up.” She retorts, crossing her arms.

Dick gives Tim a look.

“Okay! Fine!” He blurts out, overwhelmed by his brother’s prying at this point “We were going to steal the Batmobile. We just wanted to drive around town playing spice girls and catchy k-pop songs.”

All of them blink slowly, exchanging looks.

“That’s... it?” Dick says.

“...Yes?” Tim replies, unsure.

“Why didn’t you tell us then?” Dick asks “We thought you were doing something really dangerous.”

“Wait.” Steph says, looking at her four siblings “You’re not mad?”

“Pffft.” Jason mocked “Mad? Kid, every Robin steals Batman’s car. It’s like a rite of passage at this point.”

“Even Damian?”

“Especially Damian.” Duke says “He doesn’t do it for fun, but he has done it.”

“What about you and Cass? You aren’t Robins.”

“Hey! I am a Robin, thank you very much.” Duke crosses his arms.

“I won’t interfere in your rite of passage.” Cass signed.

“Are you guys serious?” Tim says.

“Yeah, go ahead, have fun.” Dick reaches into his pocket “Here.” He offers them a car key “I have like, three copies, you guys can have that one if you like. Just try not to crash.”

“Wow, thanks!” Steph takes it “I had no clue you could be a cool brother.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dick ruffles her hair “I mean it, don’t crash the car. And don’t run red lights unless there’s an emergency.”

“Alright, captain tight pants,” Jason mocks, tapping his brother’s back “Let them have fun.”

Steph and Tim soon took off in the Batmobile, blasting “Wannabe” on the speakers, loud enough for their brothers to feel the vibrations on their bones.

“Shouldn’t we have told them about the alarm on Bruce’s phone?” Duke asks.

“And ruin the fun?” Jason smirked “You still have a lot to learn.”

Just then, Dick’s phone rang.

“Is it him?” Jason peeked over his shoulder.

“Yeah. All of you, shut up for a second.” Dick puts the phone to his ear “Hey, B. What’s up?” A pause, small murmurs coming from the phone “What? Really?” More phone noise “Well, that’s weird. You know, I could’ve sworn I saw Steph and Tim going down to the cave a little earlier. But I don’t think they’d... Yeah. Mhmm.” Dick nodded “No, you should totally check on them. I can’t believe they’d do this. Alright, bye. Take care, B.”

“So?” Jason asked, eyes gleaming.

“He’s onto them.” Dick snorts “They are so screwed.”

Cass smiles a little, and Jason laughs.

“God, I feel kinda bad now.” Duke grimaced.

“Remember that time they set every single device in the house to play that baby shark song, each of them a minute apart from each other, the first going off at six in the morning?” Dick says “On a sunday?”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t feel bad anymore.” Duke frowns “They’re getting off easy.”

“Oh, baby bro,” Jason throws an arm around his shoulders “You’re dumber than I thought if you think I’m not already planning more.”

[love-sapphirerose]

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 24

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-24/.170860

Look, there was never even the slightest chance that Yashahime's 24th episode would end up functioning as a proper series finale. I knew that. You knew that. We all knew that. Over the last six months, Yashahime has rambled, meandered, bungled, and straight tumbled ass-over-elbows in its vain attempts at telling a coherent and engaging story, but never has it managed to establish so much plot and character motivation that anyone would mistakenly think that it would be a one-and-done. I was a fool for ever dreaming of a world where Yashahime might have the decency to end here and now. Still, you can't blame a guy for hoping right?

Except, we've also learned what happens to hope when Yashahime comes calling, haven't we?

In a certain sense, you'd think a part of me would be happy to find out that “Sesshomaru's Daughter” was never meant to function as a complete conclusion to this story, because that could only mean that this season finale has less responsibilities to juggle, in the long run. In spite of every attempt on Yashahime's part to sabotage itself, that last couple of episodes managed to lay the groundwork for something that at least kind of resembles a conflict for this final chapter of the season: Zero has been revived by Sesshomaru's Tenseiga, and now she's got some Rainbow Pearl-fueled demonic wrath to bring down on our heroines; Kirinmaru has also descended from the sky to do…something, which can only mean double trouble for the girls!

Haha, no. That would be far too reasonable a direction to take the story, so instead Yashahime decides to spit right in its audience's face with more of The Usual Yashahime Bullshit™, starting mere seconds after Sesshomaru revives Zero with the Tenseiga. For some reason, Sesshomaru reveals that he is no longer concerned about her mortal link with Rin, and vows to do…something to her that involves a thorough stabbing. The logical assumption is that he wants to kill her, but that makes a negative amount of sense given that she was literally just dead, so I'm just going to pretend that Yashahime is trying to trick us, and that Sesshomaru's plans are more complicated than that. Is there even a scrap of proof to that effect? Hell no, but we're only a couple of minutes into this thing, and our collective sanity can only withstand so much of this malarkey.

Meanwhile, in Spooky Tree World: Jaken notices that Rin is crying. Later on, he manages to hitch a ride with Totosai and his cow thing, claiming that he needs to fix Rin's sadness. How does he plan on doing this? What purpose does this mission serve? I sure as hell don't know, and it never comes up again. Next scene.

Before Zero has the chance to do a single thing with her twice-recovered Rainbow Pearls, Kirinmaru lashes out and magically poofs them out across the corners of the land. Yes, after spending an entire season building up the Rainbow Pearls as the ultimate artifacts of unlimited power or whatever, they served no purpose whatsoever before the script re-scattered them like the knockoff Shikon Jewels they've always been. The most reaction that anyone musters is when Moroha says, "Oh damn. There they go." Cool, show. Cool.

As for Zero? She disowns her brother and then magically yeets herself away by thwipping her spider-web onto the thin air. Then, Riku stabs Kirinmaru, which does absolutely nothing, before he flicks his little earring and poofs away too. Then , Sesshomaru goes after Zero and explains that Kirinmaru should fight his daughters as a “rite of courage and cowardice.” He then also just zips off into the sky. No, we never see Zero or Riku again. Their entire involvement in this scheme was – you guessed it – absolutely pointless!

Around this point in the episode is where you might be asking: “Wait a minute. Why does Kirinmaru tell the girls he would have let them run away if they asked? Why does he seem concerned over Sesshomaru abandoning his children? Why did he turn on his sister; does he still want to kill the girls because of that one prophecy about getting murdered by a half-demon? What does any of this have to do with the big evil comet that is going to strike the Earth in the future?” Oh, you sweet summer child. Yashahime doesn't give a shit about your questions! And no, before you even think about it again, the future comet and the Mr. Kirin subplot are not ever mentioned again, either.

With all of that out of the way, the only thing left is the big showdown between Kirinmaru and the three girls, all of whom decide to stay and fight the guy who has already handily kicked their asses without so much as breaking a sweat because…they think he's lying about being strong? And Setsuna doesn't want to back down from the rite of passage she only just learned about thirty seconds beforehand? Sure. Fine. Let's go with that. Who cares?

Now, I do want to say at least one nice thing about this episode. Even though most of the episode looks embarrassingly sloppy and rushed, the visuals really turn themselves around for this last fight, especially right at the beginning. Each of the three girls gets a delightfully-animated action cut to show off their moves, and kudos to the artists in charge of those sequences. If anything, the sequence might look a little too good, as it clashes mightily with the butt-ugly visuals that the show usually sports and serves as a bittersweet reminder of the series that Yashahime could have been.

There. That was technically a compliment, right? I hope so, because the pretty visuals can't save the back-half of "Sesshomaru's Daughter" from being almost awe-inspiring in its lameness. For one, fricking Moroha just gets whooshed out of the fight after landing maybe one or two hits. Again. Then, in order to deprive us of even the barest shred of dramatic tension, Kirinmaru loudly announces that he is going to threaten Setsuna's life in order to draw out Towa's latent power. Unsurprisingly, this leads to him murdering the hell out of Setsuna after she nicks his cheek with that Blood Blade of hers. Or rather, he slashes her from her heels to her head with his magic blade thingy, and then she falls down perfectly intact, and slowly slips away into her first “sleep” in years. Do you get it? Because Dream Butterfly.

One final almost-good thing happens when Moroha comes back with her Beniyasha face on, and she finally gets to help Towa land a major blow against Kirinmaru (it sure is a good thing that nobody ever pointlessly sacrificed their life to try and teach Moroha about the dangers of using her incredibly useful Beniyasha powers, right?). For her part, the raged-out Towa gets her own demony glow-up, and she ends up looking like a little silver-haired Super Saiyan 3 (Super Sesshy 3?). Two giant super-power blasts later, and…a slightly winded Kirinmaru admits his respect for Towa, and then flies away of his own volition. Then Sesshomaru comes back from wherever he was and offers his broken Tenseiga to Towa to help bring Setsuna back to life, finally winning that Father of the Year award he has been vying for all this time.

That's it. No, seriously, that's the end of the season. No mention of Kagome or Inuyasha whatsoever, no clues as to what any of the villains' true motivations are; we don't even get a proper explanation for whatever the hell an “Aruku's Pinwheel” is! Instead, Yashahime's first season ended as we all should have expected it would: As a slow-motion train wreck of gobsmackingly stupid writing, lame action, and a veritable mountain of wasted potential. So sure, maybe some of the series' gravest failings can get ironed out in another year or two. Lord knows that I would be ecstatic to learn that future iterations of this show ended up being halfway decent.

However, that would never change the fact that this first season was one of the most exhausting, frustrating, and disappointing anime that I've ever seen. So, with no small amount of relief, I bid adieu to our three half-demon princesses. I wish I could say that I'll miss you, but I most definitely will not. Except maybe for Moroha, who always has and always will deserve better than Yashahime. For the rest of the knuckleheads that have been leeching away at our time and our patience these last six months, there is only one rating they could ever deserve...

[anywhozits]

All I Really Want Chapter 5

Rating: M

Pairing: Kristanna (eventually)

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Chapter Summary: Anna gets ready for prom.

Notes: Sorry it’s taken so long for me to update but hopefully this will be worth the wait!

Read on Ao3

Anna sat at her white wooden vanity, staring intently at her reflection, trying for the millionth time that night to pin the last pieces of her hair into flawless wispies for her tight yet messy bun.

Her lips were pursed in ultimate concentration. She needed to look perfect—tonight was her first prom. As a freshman. It felt like such a huge deal—a high school rite of passage that she had the great fortune of experiencing a couple of years early.

Plus… she was going with Hans, of course. She wanted to impress him. She still yearned for that relationship label.

“Anna?”

She visibly jolted when she heard her father’s voice call her name.

“Phone’s for you,” he yelled through the closed door, noticeably avoiding even laying eyes on his daughter. “Elsa.”

Anna’s heart just about stopped.

Elsa. Elsa? Elsa!

She immediately hopped up from the chair and raced over to the end table where her super rad see-through neon phone sat.

Somehow after literally months, Elsa had called while Anna was actually home and not at some stupid track meet or anything else dumb, which meant they could finally talk to each other, and oh god, it was way too much for her to handle.

She took one long, deep breath to compose herself and picked up the phone, squealing internally, pumping her arms up and down and up and down in excitement. “Elsa?! Ohmygod hiii!”

“Hi, Anna.”

“Wow, I—It’s so good to talk to you! Oh my God.” She let out a long, excited breath. “I don’t even—I have no idea where to start,” Anna said, speaking a mile a minute.

“Well, how about I start?” It sounded like Elsa was smiling. “I want to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I committed to college. Well—a couple weeks ago now. But… I’ve been wrapped up in other stuff, and…”

Her voice trailed off, and Anna sighed, wishing that Elsa had called her those couple weeks ago. “So, where? Harvard? Yale?” She couldn’t hide the frustration and disappointment in her voice.

“Pomona.”

Pomona? As in—the Pomona College that was only a 45-minute drive away?

Anna had to do a double take. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah… I decided I wanted to be closer to you… for once.”

Her jaw dropped to the floor, and that was no exaggeration. “Really?”

“Yes. Really. I’ve missed you,” Elsa said. “And… the stress was really getting to me. I think—I just really needed a change of pace. A smaller school, too. Less pressure, maybe. But that’s—I really, really wanted to be closer to you, Anna.”

Anna’s eyes started to well with tears. She wanted this for so long. Ever since Elsa left for boarding school… “Oh my God. You’re being serious? Seriously?”

“I mean it. 100%. Deposit’s in and everything.”

Now Anna let out a loud squeal. “I’m so happy!”

“Me, too.”

“I love you, Els. I can’t wait to visit you and hang out with you and, like—I don’t even know! I’m just so, so, so excited!”

1997 was their year.

“I can’t wait either,” Elsa said, and Anna could practically hear her smiling. “So, how are you? What are you up to?”

“Well…I’m going to prom tonight.”

“Prom? Isn’t that only for juniors and seniors?”

“I’m going with a junior.”

“Oh,” Elsa said. “Who?”

“His name is Hans. He’s, um…he’s great!” Anna chewed on her bottom lip, not knowing how to describe Hans’s relation to her… “And he’s my, um—”

“Your boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?”

“Yep. Mmhmm.” Boyfriend. Totally, totally boyfriend.

“Oh. Wow.” Elsa’s voice radiated pure shock. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you use that word! Is it serious?”

“I mean, yeah. But you’re talking—serious how? Like physical serious or like we love each other serious because, well both, I guess?”

“Both…wait—physical? You’re having sex?”

Anna laughed nervously. “Oh—no. Not yet. I really—I thought you’d be proud, because. Um. You know, I actually called you about this, not that you’d remember, because it was, like, a while ago and it was just some dumb thing, whatever. Um, but. Yeah. I thought—because when he first asked me if I wanted to, I said no. I told him I wanted to wait until my birthday, since fifteen seems like a solid age to—do that.”

“Oh, Anna…” Elsa started to sound more and more like a mother. She got like this sometimes. Not patronizing, exactly, but… maternal. And honestly, Anna sort of liked it. She appreciated the comfort that came with knowing she had someone looking out for her. “I am proud that you decided not to act on your impulses if you didn’t think you were ready.”

Anna knew where this was going. “…but?”

Elsa laughed. “But… if you are ready, then a silly thing like your age or your birthdate shouldn’t mean anything.”

“You think?”

“Sure. And don’t get me wrong—fourteen is young. But it’s not too young if you’re ready. And as long as you’re safe.”

“Oh yeah—safe. I’ve got the number 911 memorized, so, we’re good there.”

“Anna…”

“Kidding, kidding!” They both laughed. “No, seriously. I think we’re solid.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know. Like, we’re solid. Fine. Whatever.”

“Because you’re on the pill or because somebody bought condoms or what?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay…well, call me if you need anything.” Elsa said, and Anna couldn’t help but smile slightly. Because that felt like a promise. That Elsa would answer the phone if she called. But then Elsa pivoted, “I’m sorry, I just…this Hans guy—he’s a junior?

“Yep.”

“That’s—it’s really hard for me to believe a junior’s dating a freshman for any… not sleazy reasons.”

“Um—not sleazy? He loves me! He told me he loved me the first night he met me. That’s serious.”

“I’m sorry. Wait. You—the first night you met?”

Anna shrugged. “Yeah. We were at this party at Ashley and Bebe’s. It was like, you know—classic party, whatever. But get this—I bumped into him and my vodka cranberry spilled, like, all over my shirt,” she explained, giggling. “And then we hung out for the rest of the night and we were staring at the stars and sitting on the trampoline and hanging out in the hot tub and he was just like, this is crazy, but I love you!”

“That is crazy.”

“No! It’s not crazy. Seriously—not crazy at all, not even a little bit. I mean—I loved him too! That night. I swear. I said it back and everything. Like, we both loved each other. We both love each other. Present tense. It’s not… crazy. No, no, no, no. I… must’ve explained it wrong or something! Here, let me…” Anna was floundering. She wanted Elsa to be proud of her. But now her mind raced thinking maybe she fucked up this phone call. Elsa would withdraw from Pomona and choose Harvard… Elsa would finally give up on her stupid and naïve sister once and for all.

But before Anna could open her mouth and take it all back, Elsa had something else to say.

“You’re telling me this guy’s a junior dating you, a freshman, and he randomly bumps into you at a party and says he loves you that night?”

Shit, Elsa was sounding just like Kristoff, and all Anna could do was roll her eyes. She couldn’t take it back.

“Yes. I said that already.”

“That’s just… that’s really weird.”

“No, it’s not.”

“He’s so—you know what? Nevermind. This isn’t why I called. We don’t need to get into this right now.” Oh, snap was that some kind of a miracle. So hopefully Pomona was still on the table. “I—um. What are you wearing? For prom?”

Anna looked down at her outfit, somehow having forgotten the whole prom thing. “It’s this teal dress with spaghetti straps, and it’s like a v-neck kinda thing, with a big slit coming up the side. Hans and I went shopping together and he said it made me look the hottest. So I had to wear it. There was another one I kinda liked maybe a little bit more, but… he really loved this one.” She didn’t quite want to tell Elsa that it had almost everything to do with the fact that this dress, the one she had on right now, allowed her to show much more skin than the other one. And Hans said explicitly that he intended to show her off to the rest of the junior and senior classes.

“Why did he even have an opinion? It’s your dress.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He just liked it is all.”

“But it should be you choosing the dress, not him. Who cares what he thinks?”

“I chose it! He had some input, sure, but I chose it.”

“This boyfriend of yours sounds like he’s trying to control you.” The way Elsa said boyfriend was now teetering on patronizing territory.

“He’s not. He loves me,” Anna said.

Silence. For a while. Neither Elsa nor Anna knew if they wanted to pick anymore battles. It was perfectly clear with this whole Hans situation there was very little common ground.

Elsa tried her hand at changing the subject slightly. “What does mom think of the dress?”

Anna scoffed. “How the hell would I know? You think she cares?” Her parents didn’t even know she was going to prom that night.

But if it were Elsa going to prom. That would be an entirely different story.

Anna imagined her mother going with Elsa to help pick out a dress, get a manicure, secure the best possible hair stylist to give Elsa the perfect updo. They’d spend the whole day together—primping and preparing. And then her father would join them afterwards, taking a million pictures of their prized, perfect, super-genius daughter.

“I’m sorry, Anna,” was all Elsa said. “I, um—I should go. But have fun at prom, okay? Be safe. Call me if you need me. Seriously, Anna—I mean it.” But she didn’t wait for Anna to reply before she hung up.

The in-your-face dial tone reminded Anna that no matter how close Elsa said she would move for college; their relationship was far from perfect.

But it was getting there; progress had been made.

Elsa was going to Pomona. Only a 45-minute driveaway. So close! The closest they’d been in the last six years.

Plus, Elsa had told Anna to call her. She’d never said something like that before. It didn’t matter the context. They’d made some strides. Yup. That was progress—real progress.

Anna felt herself floating as she finished her hair—parting and twisting each strand and then securing the rest into a stringy bun. She pulled on her white heels with some super cute feather poofs on top, and she took a deep breath.

Nothing could stop her now.

Elsa didn’t understand her relationship with Hans. She didn’t get it. Had Elsa ever even had a boyfriend? Why did she claim to be some kind of a love expert all of a sudden? She probably hadn’t even kissed anybody before.

Nope. Clearly Elsa was the naïve one here. Not somebody Anna should be taking any sort of relationship advice from. Elsa had no idea what the heck she was talking about.

One she met Hans… once they spent even a little bit of time together, Elsa would come to understand.

And Elsa would meet Hans. She would understand. Because she was moving back to California!

Anna was thrilled. Absolutely elated. This had to be the best day and, with prom, soon to be the best night of her life. The biggest milestone.

Huh. Milestone.

Maybe tonight was the night. Maybe… yeah, maybe.

And, besides. She was practically 15 anyway. Not that it mattered, even! Elsa said age was all a load of bologna as long as she felt ready.

So, that was that.

Ready.

After the final touches, Anna stood proudly in front of the mirror, admiring her handy work. She thought she looked great. She knew she looked great.

Prom was about to be like, super-duper legendary.

Next step—pictures with Hans and Ashley and their other friends on Balboa Island at some rando’s house.

Kai drove her as he always did, and in the backseat of the car, she clasped her hands around the plastic box that housed Hans’s white rose boutonniere.

Kai tried to make conversation about something or other as he drove, but Anna could think of nothing but the butterflies in her stomach because it was prom and the excitement of Elsa moving back and the nervous anticipation of maybe doing it with Hans tonight.

They pulled up to the house and the moment she saw all the people dressed to the nines in decked-out prom gear, she raced out of that car and into the crowd.

Anna noticed Kristoff first, standing awkwardly off to the side, holding gorgeous pink corsage.

“Kris!”

He snapped his head up from the ground and smiled as widely as she had ever seen him smile. “Anna.”

The second they hugged, Anna felt those butterflies again.

“You look really beautiful, Anna.”

She could feel heat rising to her cheeks. “Thanks. You’re super handsome.” And then his own cheeks burned.

He looked different with his hair in a less spiky state. Instead, it was slicked back with some kind of gel. And she frowned slightly when she noticed that not even a little line from one of his tattoos poked out. This didn’t seem like the Kristoff knew and um, loved (as a brother!). But even then, he looked wonderful. Still familiar. Still the person who made her feel most at ease.

Which was exactly why she had pressured Hans to pressure Ashley to invite him as her date.

She didn’t want to jump into that huge prom-sized milestone without her best friend by her side.

Eventually, after looking legit everywhere, she located Hans. God what a really, really hot not-boyfriend she had. Wow.

Anna didn’t say anything to Kristoff before dashing off, practically flinging herself into Hans’s arms.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hi, Hans! I have so much to tell you! Like, so much happened today and I’m so excited about that and now I’m at prom with you and you’re so hot and—”

“Later, okay? It’s picture time now, and we’re with my friends.”

Anna looked around and noticed that yes, his friends definitely surrounded them, but something struck her as odd about the rest of the guests. It was weird seeing almost her entire English class there, too.

She furrowed her eyebrows and looked back at Hans who had wasted no time bringing his hand to rest on the small of her back.

“Fuck, Anna, you look so smokin’ in this dress. I told everyone I’d have the hottest freshman date,” he smirked. “I think I won.”

Anna cocked her head, confused. “Won?”

“Me and the guys were just shooting the shit, talking about you, and some of the girls in your class. Thought it’d be fun to make it a little contest.”

“So that’s why you wanted me to wear this?”

He shrugged. “You look great. I wanted you to look great.”

Anna bit her lip. Was Elsa right?

“Come on, babe. It was some dumb thing me and the guys did. I shouldn’t’ve said anything. I love you, all right?” He cupped her chin and brought her lips to meet his own. “I’m lucky to be your prom date, even though it’s cheesy,” he added, winking.

He’d asked her to prom while they were alone at her beach house, after they’d ordered a cheese pizza: I know it’s cheesy, but will you go to prom with me?

Anna had squealed because she knew she was supposed to be excited and all, but it felt so lame. She wanted something big and memorable and in front of the whole school, so she got the luxury of the entire student body knowing that Hans Westergaard wanted her over everybody else. But instead…

Cheesy pizza while they were both super high and a teeny bit drunk in front of absolutely nobody. Honestly a bummer.

He kissed her again, clearly more romantically. More apologetic, too.

She accepted, deepening the kiss.

Stupid, Anna, stupid. Snap out of it. Now she was just being nitpicky. Too much in her head thanks to everything Elsa blabbered on about. But Elsa didn’t know Hans. Elsa didn’t know love. Elsa had no idea.

Hans loved her. Obviously. He said that five hundred times a day.

So, he loved her. And she loved him. And she was ready.

Hans rested his hand on her cheek and asked, “Your parents didn’t come for pictures?”

His question forced Anna to observe that almost every other person at this shindig had parents with obnoxiously clicking cameras. “No. They don’t even know it’s prom.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. His parents both noticeably absent. “Mine got bored after the fourth or fifth one.”

Another nice thing—Hans understood. He wasn’t lonely, exactly. Not in the same way. He had a huge family, but he was still often neglected. Still technically alone.

And that gave her all the reassurance she needed.

In this sea of happy families and supportive parents, at least Anna and Hans had each other.

[saint-of-los-angeles]

Key to Your Heart

Summery: Keying your ex’s car is somewhat of a ‘rite of passage’ when you find out that your boyfriend is cheating on you. Just remember to make sure that the car is, in fact, your ex’s

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee

Warnings: THERES SMUT IN THIS ONE YALL. WHO AM I?

Listen I wrote this with @merryy-go-round and can I just say I fucking love her? She’s so talented and inspires me to write so GOD BLESS HER CAN I GET AN AMEN?

Tommy wasn’t an insecure guy, honestly. But there’s something about walking into the bathroom to take a piss, and seeing your boyfriend of almost a year, the one that brought you to the fucking party in the first place, with some chick bent over a toilet that makes you want to die.

In his hazy state of mind, he didn’t know if he was more hurt, or more livid.

But as he shoved his way through the drunken, sloppy party guests, and listened to Michael desperately calling his name behind him, he decided that yeah. He was pissed.

Tommy had always tried to be a good boyfriend, he cooked Michael dinner after a long day at work, never complained when Mike was ‘too busy’ to make it to one of his band’s shows, and he always fucking put out for him, even when he got nothing out of their sex life anymore.

But his loyalty and efforts had clearly gotten him fucking nowhere, and as he pushed his way out the front door, he tried to take a deep breath of the warm California night air to convince himself that this was fine.

Tommy took his time walking down the darkened LA roads, he had no real destination in mind- where the fuck was he gonna go anyway? He sure as hell didn’t want to go back to the apartment he shared with Mike- that was out of the question, too many memories of happy times before shit started going south.

Instead, Tommy just turned down roads he had never heard of, just walking and walking with the hope that the farther away he got from Michael, the smaller the hole in his heart would get.

Tommy isn’t that fucking lucky though, and as he turned the corner to yet another nameless street and his eyes met the bumper of a car he would know fucking anywhere.

A quick glance around his surroundings had him hit with the realization that he was standing outside of a liquor store, and isn’t that just fucking typical.  Parked right in front of him in the small alley next to the shady store was the black Volkswagen that had driven him to the party to in the first place.

Not only did Mike humiliate him in front of a party full of random strangers, fuck some drunk chicks brains out over a toilet, and completely shatter both his pride and his heart in the same fucking day, but after that he decides to go get some more alcohol to keep the party going?

Fucking asshole.

Tommy didn’t know if it was the heartbreak and rage boiling inside his guts, or the alcohol that was making his head swim, but either way he wasn't even consciously controlling his actions as he pulled out the key to the apartment he shared with his ex and dropping to his knees to carve his sorrow and anguish into the dented metal.

For him to give up on chasing Tommy to go get more booze? Was he really so easy to give up on? A year of his life he wasted on that guy, who clearly couldn’t be bothered with Tommy’s heartbreak. Pure anger and loathing was coursing through his veins, and maybe it was childish, but fuck it. If Michael wants to act childish and immature, then he would act childish and immature right back.

———-

Nikki wanted nothing more than to just go home and relax after the grueling shift that he had just endured. Getting underpaid to argue with drunks, junkies and stupid fucking teenagers all day? Not exactly what Nikki had planned for himself, but a job is a job. Besides it beats working corner jobs, and he prefers to be able to afford to buy actual food.

He walked out of the rear exit, door slamming behind him as he walked towards the parking lot. He had been in the middle of stuffing his lighter in his pocket, freshly lit cigarette resting between his lips, when he stopped in his tracks.

Who the fuck was messing with his car?

It wasn’t like he had a fancy car. He had bought it after his Chevy Bel Air had died on the interstate, and half the time the engine wouldn’t even turn over, but who was this fucking stranger to think he could just get away with fucking with Nikki’s shit like that?

His first instinct was to alert the scumbag to his presence, and maybe kick his ass, but his curiosity won out. So instead he stood back to look at the man who was now carving a very shaky ‘t’ on his driver side door. Upon further inspection of the scribe he could make out the words ‘Fuck you for breaking my heart’.

Wait, what? Nikki’s anger melted into confusion as he looked at the man again. Who was this guy? Sure he wasn’t a ‘settle down’ kind of guy but he couldn’t recall any recent conquests that would be the cause for someone to claim heartbreak?  Nikki’s mind was reeling, but before he could dwell on this for too long the younger man shakily stood up.

As he stared at the lanky form, who was now standing back to admire his  artwork, Nikki couldn’t stop himself from commenting, “Babe, I don’t remember breaking your heart, and trust me I think would remember that ass.”  

At Nikki’s gruff voice, Tommy jolted as if he had been hit by a bolt of electricity. Turning around Tommy began to look back and forth between the, now damaged, car and Nikki. Dropping the key that was in his fist, he threw his hands up to cover his face, but not before Nikki could catch a glance at his mortified expression paired with the swollen features that clearly came from crying.

He was young, probably younger than Nikki, but only by a few years. Face framed in brown, curly hair, Nikki took note of the red rimmed eyes and felt his chest tighten. This fucker just keyed his car. Why the fuck did he care? Nikki didn’t know, but the kid just looked so distraught, and Nikki found himself wanting to change that.

“This cannot be fucking happening. Oh my god, dude, please tell me that this isn’t your car, I am so fucking sorry. You’re totally gonna beat my ass, fuck fuck fuck-” As the curly headed strangled continued to ramble, Nikki slowly started to step closer and decided to put an end to the younger man’s tangent.

Nikki was no stranger to getting caught doing stupid shit, and he wasn’t going to make this guy feel worse when he was clearly acting out of heartbreak.

“Chill out man, I’m definitely not going to beat you up. Just stop freaking out.” Tommy’s panic fueled words were cut short immediately, and he slowly lowered his hands from his face. Still holding his breath out of instinct, ready for the first hit that he was still expecting.

Instead his eyes were met with the sight of Nikki barely containing a smile as if the situation was hilarious. “What is wrong with you? Some stranger fucks up your car and you don’t even yell at them?” Tommy half-shouted in exasperation. His arms were flailing as he talked and he stumbled back a bit, and Nikki’s smile grew a little when he realized the man in front of him was probably drunk. This poor kid was fucking adorable.

“Well, would you like for me to yell at you?” Nikki replied in a teasing, light hearted tone at the sight of the other’s inner turmoil. He was too fucking cute. “I mean, no, but, like-” Tommy started again, before he could get too worked up again, Nikki was quick to redirect.

“I promise I’m not mad, it was a mistake. Besides, I'm not one to pick fights with pretty boys like you.” He stated with a wink. Not giving the other man time to react to his words, Nikki continued.

“Besides this car is a piece of shit anyways, and so is anyone who would be stupid enough to hurt you.” As he spoke he held Tommy’s gaze and hey when did we get so close?

They were close enough to where Tommy could smell the cigarette smoke on the raven haired man’s breath, surprised to notice that his heart was absolutely pounding out of his chest, and not for the fear of being beat up anymore.

This guy’s eyes were green, deep, and so confident as he looked at Tommy like he was looking at the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Tommy found himself edging closer, despite the fact that he didn’t know this guy’s fucking name. Something was pulling Tommy toward him, like he had his own gravitational pull, something that exists inside Tommy needed to be closer to this mysterious stranger.

Tommy took a shuddering breath and looked down at the others lips, maybe he was reading the situation completely wrong or he wanted to get back at Mike, or maybe he just needed a fucking ego boost after having his confidence completely shot, but at this point he didn’t care. He had to go for it at this point, because he would never forgive himself if he ignored this magnetic feeling, it was too special to walk away from. With one more deep breath Tommy lunged forward, and kissed this beautiful stranger full on the mouth, feeling the other inhale sharply in surprise.

But none of that mattered, because after a couple beats of shocked stiffness, Tommy felt the other man pressing closer, and his lips were moving against his and his hands were pulling at Tommy’s hair like they knew exactly what to do, like they did this all the time, and Tommy was in absolute fucking heaven.

He didn’t know what this even was, he had never felt this exhilarating feeling from someone he had just fucking met, but the sparks he felt in his chest chased away every doubt the younger man had. He could think about the consequences later.

The raven haired man was pulling away then, backing Tommy up to press his back against the car, nipping at his lip in an almost shy manner, perhaps the only apprehension Tommy had sensed up until this point.

Tommy’s hands seemed to move on their own as the slipped slightly under the raven haired man's shirt to pet at the warm skin of his hip in reassurance, an encouragement that served its purpose, because then the stranger was shuddering at the sensation, brushing Tommy’s hair off of his shoulder, and trailing his lips down to press kisses to Tommy’s exposed neck.

Tommy couldn’t help but to let out an absolutely sinful moan then, because this was fucking hot, this guy was fucking hot, he was unattached now anyway and honestly, he was always a horny drunk.

Tommy felt a chuckle brand itself into his neck then, and he couldn’t help it as his lips let out “I feel like I should at least know your name, dude.”

Those green eyes were pulling back to look at him again, the same confident glint in them that he had admired in them before, but they were almost softer now.

“It’s Nikki.”

Fuck, even his name was hot. If Tommy wasn’t a goner before, he definitely was now.

“Tommy.” He managed to choke out without sounding too breathless. Nikki smiled at the airy tone and returned his lips to Tommy’s throat. “Well Tommy, I think I can make you feel good enough that you won't even remember your ex’s name… that is, if you want..”

There was that insecure tone, it was back, hidden under a mask of fake confidence, but it was there, and even though Tommy didn’t know this guy, had no reason to feel any sort of emotional attachment to him other than gratitude for not beating his ass over this situation, Tommy decided he really didn’t like that tone to Nikki’s voice. Nobody that fucking beautiful should feel insecure about anything, ever.

Tommy didn’t think he could choke out a reply anyway, so he bucked his hips against Nikki’s, feeling a shot of pride go through his chest when Nikki’s eyes rolled back slightly and the grip on his hips tightened enough to bruise.

“Are you sure?”

The slight disbelief in Nikki’s voice made Tommy’s heart skip a beat and his cock pulse harder, somehow. It was like he couldn’t believe that Tommy was willing to do this, with him, in this alley, but in reality this is all that Tommy ever could have wanted for this night.

This man was beautiful, and Tommy could see the kind soul under the rough exterior, and right now all he wanted to do was feel the passion that he had always been missing with his ex, and something in him told him that Nikki could provide that for him.

In a burst of sudden confidence, Tommy was rolling his hips, pressing his hard cock against Nikki’s thigh and somehow managing to choke out: “Pretty damn sure.”

From there, it was all hands, all over his body. Tommy felt lightheaded at the feelings this man was bringing out of him, the anticipation of the pleasure he knew was to come was suffocating him as Nikki’s gentle hands pushed him down to lay in the backseat of the old beat up vehicle.

Tommy was somewhat surprised at the gentle caress of Nikki’s hands so far, he would have expected Nikki to be much rougher, but something told him in the way Nikki’s hands shook that he was holding back for him, and that the best was yet to come.

But for now, Tommy was being driven crazy. Nikki was taking his sweet time, pushing his hands under Tommy’s shirt so deliberately, and the kisses being pressed into his neck were so soft, Tommy thought he was going to lose his mind before they got to the actual sex.

Tommy could feel the warm moist heat of Nikki’s breath as his shirt was pushed up and off of him completely as Nikki turned his attention to kissing down his chest, stopping for a minute to gently lick at each nipple. Each flick of Nikki’s tongue, each nip of Nikki’s teeth sent electricity into Tommy’s nerves, lighting them up and sending Tommy to heaven.

Nikki was palming his cock over his jeans now, and Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy could hear himself moaning and grunting with this voice that was dripping with pure sex, Tommy didn’t know if he had even made any of these sounds before.

His body was demanding more friction to sooth the pulse that was pounding between his thighs, to the point he was almost considering begging because he needed this.

Nikki’s mouth had worked its way down to Tommy’s stomach by the time his vocal cords gathered the control to choke out a strangled “please”, and Nikki’s face warped with a mixture of pure pride and lust, all thoughts of going slow abandoned as Nikki went to work on the button on Tommy’s jeans.

While Nikki rid Tommy of the confines of his jeans, Tommy decided Nikki was wearing entirely too many clothes, and pulled the shirt over the older boy’s head, sighing happily as he ran his fingertips over the warm, pale skin of Nikki’s chest.

The entire world had narrowed down to the inside of this car. Nothing else mattered, not the chatter of pedestrians a dozen yards away, not Michael, nothing else existed except for him and this raven haired stranger that was looking at him with the most worshiping eyes that Tommy had ever seen.

Tommy hissed as the cold air hit him when Nikki managed to slide his pants the rest of the way off. Nikki flat out groaned as he took in the sight before him. Tommy seemed to have thrown any hesitation that he might have felt out the door. He was locked in a pleading gaze, eyes begging for more, for anything.

It must have worked because Nikki seemed to take pity on him and didn’t leave him waiting for long. Their positions were awkward and cramped, okay yeah, Nikki definitely lost feeling in his right leg, but neither of them seemed to mind. The younger boy let out a shout when Nikki suddenly lowered himself to take the younger man’s length in his mouth.

Okay, fuck, Nikki is good at this. Tommy was in pure ecstasy as Nikki drug his tongue along the swollen vein of Tommy's cock, fighting the urge to thrust his hips forward and choke the other man.

Tommy whimpered in surprise when he felt a lubed finger circling his entrance.

Where the fuck did that lube even come from?

Tommy couldn't help it, he was pushing himself down onto Nikki's finger, begging him to keep going, give him more more more.

One finger turned into two, then three and Tommy was a writhing mess under Nikki.

Nikki let out a groan as he took in the sight of Tommy fucking himself down onto his fingers. “Come on baby, take it, that’s right.” He huffed out before pulling his fingers away completely, heat rushing to his lower stomach at the whining that ensued.

“Nggg, Nikki- more- please-”

And yeah, okay, Nikki wasn’t going to be able to deny this kid anything, not when he’s begging like that with that voice. Not wasting any time, Nikki pushed down his own boxers and thrust his leaking erection into the younger boy’s aching hole. Leaning down Nikki crashed his lips into the Tommy’s, capturing the noises that were slipping from his lips, and swallowing them down.

Nikki couldn’t contain his moans for long though. Moans turned to half-shouts as the older man began thrusting, deep and fast. Tommy felt dizzy with pleasure and the adrenaline that came with fucking a complete stranger on the Sunset Strip, where anyone could catch you.

Tommy may have been longer but Nikki was so thick. He relished in the burning stretch causing him to clench around the other’s pulsing member. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so turned on. He had grown used to the boring, lights off, half asleep, sex that he had grown to accept with Mike.

No this, this was uncensored, raw pleasure. This all felt so new, and he couldnt help but fucking relish in the look in Nikki’s eyes, like he was barely holding it together, like the sight of Tommy alone was enough to make him come. It was hot, but it was also sweet, in it’s own way. He couldn’t help but bury his hands hands in the raven locks as the other man moved to bite at his exposed throat.

Tommy’s moans gradually turned into various versions of Nikki’s name. What started out as “Nikki”, had shortened to “Nik”, and eventually morphed into just sultry moans that vaguely sounded like the older boy’s name.

“You like that, baby?” Nikki whispered as he ground into Tommy’s prostate, causing the younger man to see stars. Tommy couldn’t respond with words, he was choking on his reply of yes, yes he fucking likes it, yes he fucking loves it, he could die right here, being fucked to death in the back of this shitty car in this shitty alley and it would be just fine with him, what a fucking way to go.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, babe, goddamn-” Nikki’s praises were spurring Tommy on, in a way that he had never experienced before. He had never felt so worshiped during sex, and it made him want to give Nikki a show. It made him want to make Nikki feel just as fucking adored as he was making Tommy feel.

With that thought, Tommy was pushing Nikki off of him, Nikki’s eyes growing wide and confused at the turn of events. Tommy watched Nikki’s mouth open, no doubt to apologize, ask what was wrong, something along those lines, but before Nikki  could get a word out, Tommy was straddling his thighs, teasing Nikki’s cock with his entrance before pushing down and  sitting himself flat on Nikki’s lap.

Nikki’s eyes were wide in awe, his mouth forming a perfect o shape, his head thrown back against the seat, as he hissed out a ‘fuck, baby’, and Tommy was fucking proud of himself.

Tommy grabbed a handful of dyed black locks to steady himself as he started bouncing himself on Nikki’s lap. As his movements increased in speed, and his prostate was hit dead on with every thrust, he could feel honest to god tears in his eyes at the pleasure, he was so close, so fucking close, he needed Nikki to touch him.

He opened his mouth to say something- anything- to convey what he needed, but as it turns out, Nikki knew, somehow he just fucking knew, and he was bringing his shaking hand up to fist Tommy’s leaking erection, pulling in time with Tommy’s movements.

“I- I’m close- do you want me to-”

Tommy knew what Nikki meant, “do you want me to pull out”, and no, no he fucking didn’t, and he just sped up his movements impossibly faster in response. As close as Nikki was, Tommy was closer. He threw his head back and let out a cry as his muscles spasmed, and he came on Nikki’s hand and chest. He fucked himself through his orgasm, and the sight of Tommy’s release was enough to drag Nikki over the edge as well.

Releasing Tommy’s cock, Nikki’s arms coiled themselves around Tommy’s back, pulling him closer and burying his head in Tommy’s shoulder as his body spasmed and his mouth opened to scream a silent cry into his lover’s shoulder.

After a few minutes of labored breathing, Tommy lifted himself off of Nikki’s lap, allowing Nikki to slip out of him, and collapsed down on the bench seat, pulling Nikki on top of him. Nikki let out a startled laugh, a smile permanently etched on his face as he continued to try to catch his breath. Not wanting to crush the younger man he forced himself to sit up a bit, but Tommy was quick to pull him back against him. “Just- just for a minute.” Tommy grumbled out sleepily, eyes still closed. At the softly spoken words Nikki couldn’t help but to oblige. His chest tightened at the implications of the other man asking him to stay. Maybe the other man felt the same magnetic pull that seemed to overtake him the moment he laid his eyes on him. Not wanting to overthink things and be that person Nikki resorted back to the cocky mask that he wore so well, “Still can’t get enough of me, babe?”

But Tommy was looking at him, dark brown eyes scrutinizing and analyzing him, as if to see past the mask that Nikki has been accustomed to wearing all this time. It made Nikki squirm, he wasn't used to people looking at him like that, wasn't used to people caring that much, but he could get used to looking at those brown eyes, that was for sure.

"I mean, that was some pretty great sex, Nik."

Nikki choked out a laugh against Tommy's shoulder as he buried himself into it, pausing for a second to grab the blanket he had stashed under the passenger seat and covered them up. He tried not to let his mind dwell on how fucking good the nickname sounded spilling from Tommy's lips, but the thought had a smile playing on his lips anyway.

——-

Several years later, Michael was just a distant memory, and Tommy was living his best fucking life every day with his lover and best friend on stage, every night, in front of thousands of people. Tommy’s hair was darker, Nikki had bulked up a little bit, both were littered with more tattoos, and neither one had ever been more happy.

Neither had expected that night so many years ago to lead to this. Keying someone’s car, and then fucking them in the back seat of that same car isn’t exactly a fairytail way of meeting, but to both Nikki and Tommy, they lived their own fairy tail every day they were together.

Countless interviewers asked them how they had met and become a couple, and it was always the same bullshit response they gave everyone, they ‘met on the streets of LA and they just clicked instantly’, which wasn't exactly a lie, but not the full truth. With their entire lives being put in the spotlight now, they both agreed they wanted to keep this one memory for themselves only.

Though Tommy was used to the tattoos that riddled the bassist’s skin, his eyes always ended up focusing on the, honestly not very well done, tattoo that rested over his heart. When Nikki had drunkenly told Tommy that he wanted to get a key tattoo one night, Tommy decided then and there that this was his forever. There was no one else in the world that he would rather spend his life with.

Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight, or maybe it was, but it was Nikki and Tommy, and that’s what mattered.

[tonystarkstan]

@underoosstark Happy Birthday, love. I hope this bit of fluff brings you even a fraction of the happiness you bring me every single day. I love you so much.

-

“You know, kid, when you said you wanted to make ice cream, this is not what I imagined,” Tony comments, surveying the counter in front of him. “What are the plastic bags for?”

Peter turns from where he’s organizing all the ingredients and gapes at him. “You mean you’ve never made ice cream in a bag?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “No, I can’t say that I have, actually. We had a chef who made it for us. And certainly not in a plastic bag,” Tony says wryly. I never really had a childhood at all, is what he doesn’t say.

Peter quickly tosses an apron at Tony, who catches it with startled hands. “The hell am I supposed to do with this?”

The kid merely rolls his eyes at him. “You know, for a genius, you’re kind of stupid sometimes,” he says cheekily, and Tony winces.

“Okay, you little shit, I know I’m supposed to put it on, but why this one? ‘Women do it better’? Really?” Tony scoffs, and Peter just gives him an amused look.

“May made it for Pepper last Christmas,” Peter reminds him and Tony nods.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he concedes, putting the apron on and stepping next to Peter with an uncertain look.

Peter places a bowl in front of him before sliding a glass Pyrex over. “Here, measure out two cups of milk and put it in the bowl while I add the sugar and vanilla.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Tony quips with a mock salute.

“Oh hush, this is a religious experience,” Peter scolds, pouring half a cup of sugar into the bowl. “It’s, like, a rite of passage. Holy shit, Ned is going to be so excited when I tell him I showed you how to make ice cream.”

Tony smiles at the mention of Peter’s friend. Despite the rather exhausting nature of Ned’s brand of hero-worship, Tony couldn’t help but become rather fond of the kid. “He should join us next time,” Tony remarks.

Something in his chest twinges when he’s instantly met with Peter’s bright eyes, shining with something still so inexplicably joyful at the mention of next time. Tony knows that there’s a part of Peter that will never stop being afraid that Tony will lose interest in him or whatever other worst-case scenarios the kid’s managed to think up of.

“Oh, he’d love that,” Peter gushes as Tony pours in the milk. “Good, you can stir it now,” he adds, passing Tony the spoon.

While Tony does that, Peter quickly opens up two plastic bags and grabs the measuring cup. When Tony’s deemed the mixture as sufficiently stirred, he gives Peter an expectant look.

“What now, Spider-Chef?” Tony teases, and Peter huffs at the nickname.

“Pour half a cup of the mixture into each of these, and then once we double bag them, we can stick the bags in those containers with the ice and rock salt,” Peter commands, and Tony smoothly follows the instructions.

“Next?” he asks as Peter plucks the bags from his grasp and places them in the plastic containers before sealing the lids. Peter smiles widely and passes one of the containers to Tony.

“Now comes the fun part!” Peter says excitedly. “We shake!”

Without waiting for Tony to start, Peter begins enthusiastically shaking the container, and Tony winces at the sound of rattling ice. He amuses himself by taking a moment to simply watch the kid, who looks younger than Tony’s seen him act in a long time.

“FRIDAY, play ‘Money Money Money’ from the Mamma Mia soundtrack,” Peter says in the general direction of the ceiling before looking back at Tony. “Come on, Mr. Stark! You have to shake it or it won’t work!”

Tony rolls his eyes but starts shaking the container, smiling fondly as he realizes Peter’s rattling his container to the beat of the song.

“You nerd,” Tony teases affectionately, letting himself fall into a rhythm, too. “How long do we do this for again?”

“Like five minutes or so,” Peter tells him, hopping onto the counter and swinging his legs wildly while his arms continue to work.

When the song changes to “Dancing Queen,” Peter happily adjusts to the beat of the song, mouthing the words and swaying back and forth happily.  For a moment, Tony’s breath is caught by how domestic the sight is. The thought startles him so much that he quickly searches for a way to distract himself.

He smirks to himself, waiting for the chorus before starting to dramatically dance and sway his hips as he continues to shake the container. Peter’s eyes widen comically.

“Oh my god, Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaims, unable to decide between looking horrified or looking amused.

“FEEL THE BEAT FROM THE TAMBOURINE!” Tony sings loudly and wildly off-key.

Peter abandons his container in favor of placing his hands over his eyes. “Oh God, Mr. Stark, stop it! My poor eyes!” he wails jokingly as Tony just laughs and continues singing, adjusting his voice to stay surprisingly in pitch.

It reminds Peter of when Ben used to randomly serenade May in public. May thought it was hilarious - she absolutely loved it - but Peter was always so embarrassed.

“Having the time of your life...!” Tony sings, still dancing as he walks over to Peter and gently pries his hand away from his face before pulling the kid off the counter.

“Absolutely not,” Peter says resolutely when Tony gestures for him to dance, too.

“Oh come on, kid. Don’t be a chicken. Besides, it’s just us here,” Tony taunts.

“Yeah, us and an omnipresent AI who sees all and records all,” Peter mutters, but hesitantly begins to move nevertheless, picking up his container again. He’s so awkward and endearing that Tony could swear is hear swells three times its size.

As the song plays, they start making fun of each other’s moves, mocking each other and laughing until they’re leaning on the counter, trying to catch their breath as the song ends.

When he’s no longer gasping for air, Peter looks at the container in his hands and wonders, “Think it’s done?”

“I’d say that was well over five minutes, wouldn’t you?” Tony answers.

Peter nods excitedly, grabbing a pair of scissors to cut a hole in the corner of the bags while Tony sets a pair of bowls in front of him. He pipes the creamy dessert into the bowls, smiling widely when Tony hands him chocolate syrup and whipped cream.

“Perfect!” he exclaims. Tony raises an eyebrow as he stares at the kid’s bowl.

“How about a little ice cream with that whipped cream, Pete?” Tony asks dryly.

“The whipped cream’s the best part!” Peter protests defensively, ducking his head when Tony just ruffles his hair affectionately.

“So you’ve told me,” Tony comments, handing him a spoon. “Now, let’s see if this actually tastes good.”

“Of course it does,” Peter scoffs, sounding offended. Still, there’s something uncertain in his eyes as he waits for Tony to taste creamy mixture.

Tony’s face is unreadable as he lets the dessert melt on his tongue before swallowing. He lets his face break out into a big smile, and Peter lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

“I’ve gotta say, kid,” Tony says, slinging an arm over Peter’s shoulders and briefly pulling him close. “That’s the best damn ice cream I’ve had in a long while.”

(He made it with Peter. Of course it is.)

[honeymoonjin]

A/N: 3.2k words. Warning for sexually explicit content. It’s vanilla af but it’s there. Sorry for the long wait, but this chapter is reaaally important, you don’t want to miss it! Let me know if this changes any of your theories ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Synposis: Your boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, has gone missing. After acting erratic for a few weeks, spending all his time locked away in his studio, he suddenly vanishes into thin air, leaving only an unreleased album behind. Zodiac.

Chapter Six – you’re a shark and i’m swimming

“Jimin, we shouldn’t be doing this, we’re in deep shit enough as it is.”

Detective Park locks the door behind you and watches you as you sit down warily. “It’s too late. We have to be honest; I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

“Do what?” You’re stiff in that stupid rickety chair and you glare at the both of them as they return to the positions you last saw them in, only this time Jimin’s in his own chair and it’s Jungkook who, instead of leaning on the desk, is circling you slowly like a bird of prey. “I’m so sick of the lies. I feel like I’m going insane; you need to tell me what’s going on. Please.”

Jeon glares at detective Park one last time before turning his full attention to you. “Look, we’re fully aware that Min Yoongi isn’t the guilty party here. You know it, we know it, he obviously knows it. And when we first got the case from Kim Taehyung, we had full intentions of going about it the right way. We’re not incompetent as much as you’d like to think so.”

“…I don’t see where this is going,” you admit.

Park sighs. “Y/n, you have to understand how hard it is for younger detectives like us to make a name for ourselves. Ever since I started here, ever since Jungkook got assigned as my partner, we’ve been given the unsolvable. It’s a rite of passage to keep the head honchos looking like geniuses, and us looking like idiots. Newbies get cases that the police feel won’t get a decent resolution and give all the clear-cut ones to those they want to make look good. What I’m saying is, the moment we read the details of Kim Namjoon’s disappearance, we knew we didn’t have a fucking chance of actually solving it. There’s no leads, no information, nothing. There’s not a whole lot we can do when someone doesn’t want to be found.”

Jeon picks up where Park trails off. “I know you think we’ve done fuck-all since getting the case. That’s not true. This whole time, we’ve been chasing dead ends. There’s not a single trace of your boyfriend anywhere in the city, or the ways out. Whether he acted alone or was taken or killed, we don’t even know that for sure.” He sighs and rubs the space between his eyebrows, rolling his shoulders. “Anyway, that’s where we were at, when we found a lead. Jung Hoseok. We found several noise complaints filed against his studio, all of them lining up with security footage of Namjoon going in and out. Last one is on the Thursday; the last anyone saw him. We acquired the records from Hoseok’s mobile phone. Several threats were placed against you, in relation to Namjoon’s career. The two were speaking about Namjoon wanting to spend less time on his music career and focus on his relationship with you, and Hoseok did not respond well.”

“What?” Your head feels dizzy with the new information that’s being thrown at you. “Joon never once mentioned to me that he wanted to slow down on producing. He didn’t mention any of this, in fact. I want to see the texts,” you insist, crossing your arms.

“We deleted them,” Jeon replies simply.

“You what?”

Park runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, you didn’t have to be so blunt, Jungkook. Y/n, we went over to Hoseok’s house with a search warrant and found nothing, but when we questioned Hoseok, he…” He breaks off and sighs. “You have to trust me, I never would’ve done it if I had the chance to go back.”

“What did you two do? I don’t understand.”

Jeon makes his way over to his desk and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and tucking a deep inhale. “Basically, Hoseok offered us an out. We didn’t have enough evidence to convict him, or anyone else for that matter, but if we deleted the security footage and destroyed the text exchange records, he’d testify in court that Min Yoongi was the guilty party.”

“Jung Hoseok bribed you?” you cry incredulously.

“It was our only chance to close the case, Y/n,” Park insists desperately, “and we thought maybe if we could just get a false confession from Min, then you and his other loved ones would have a sense of closure.”

You stand up abruptly. “But that closure would be based on lies,” you point out. “I… I appreciate you finally telling me, I guess, but fuck you both. You’re no better than all those other corrupt police officers taking money for getting off guilty parties. I don’t know how you can fucking sleep at night.”

You make your way to the door and mess with the lock angrily, shaking it until it clicks open. Park calls out your name, and you turn around reluctantly. “Please don’t tell anyone about this, Y/n. I know that’s a tall order, and we don’t deserve it, but… Fuck, we… You can’t hate us any more than I hate my fucking self. I’m so sorry.”

Jeon bites his lip, and the hint of vulnerability in his eyes is something you haven’t seen from him before. When he speaks, it’s softer than his usual biting tone. “Look, there’s nothing more we can do to fix this. The records have already been deleted, it’s too late. But if you should choose to approach Hoseok yourself and try and get answers, let’s just say we would be willing to let a little breaking and entering slide. Just be safe. There wasn’t a single thread of actual evidence at his studio or his private residence, but you still need to keep your wits about you, alright?”

You nod shakily, not trusting your voice, and leave without a further word.

When you return home, you can hear the clicking of laptop keys coming from Jin’s upstairs study, and suddenly all you want is someone near you who you can trust. You don’t have the energy to go back to Hobi right now. You don’t even know what you could possibly say. Did you kill my boyfriend? Why did you kill my boyfriend if you were threatening me?

Jin looks up with a soft smile when you hover in the doorway, and the warmth in his eyes is the last straw.

You break down into a fit of overwhelmed tears, clutching desperately onto the doorjamb as your shoulders shake.

“Woah, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Come here, I’ve got you.”

Like all workaholics, he’s got a small couch in his study, and he gently detaches your grip off of the wood and herds you towards it, letting you latch on to him like a heartbroken koala. He sits down, you on his lap with your legs on one side, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, rubbing soothingly at your back. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. It’s okay. Cry as much as you need, alright? You can talk when you’re ready.”

And so you do exactly as he says, and spend what could be minutes or hours sobbing inconsolably into his chest, soaking the expensive fabric of his shirt, not that he seems to mind. When you finally begin to settle, feeling unbelievably drained, your temples ache and your jaw is tight.

You wipe your drenched face and look up at him, propping yourself up on his chest a little to be at his eye-level. “I’m sorry,” you whisper unevenly.

“No, don’t be,” he soothes, “I’m here for you, you can tell me anything.” He reaches out and wipes away the tears that stubbornly continue to fall, giving you his best supportive smile.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” you admit. “All of this is too much. I just…I need someone.” You’d forgotten how special and wonderful and intimate a decent long hug felt. Jin’s warm embrace and even warmer expression has you melting, and maybe it’s the fact that you are beginning to accept for the first time that your boyfriend really is gone, or maybe you’re just too lonely to think any better, but you lean down and kiss Kim Seokjin with all the heartbreak and pain that has built up the past few days.

He goes lax under you in shock, but after a moment, the hand that previously wiped away your tears now rests on your cheek, palm warm against your damp skin.

You sigh out through the kiss, deepening it as he begins to respond, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. In the back of your mind, you think you hear a thud in the house, but your mind is consumed by the rush of emotions you’re feeling, and you forget about it almost as soon as you hear it. Jin seems to enjoy the kiss as much as you, but just when you part your lips to flick your tongue lightly over his, he’s pulling away and shaking his head.

“We can’t,” he says with a rough voice.

“Oh, I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” he breaks in hastily, “I want to. I want you, Y/n, but we can’t do this here.”

You blink slowly, still drunk on the feeling of his lips on yours. “You mean in your office?”

He glances around with a pained look on his face. “I don’t think…” He breaks off and sighs, thumbs rubbing absentmindedly on your cheekbones. “I was thinking, maybe if you’re having a hard time, it might help you to go and spend a few nights at your old place. You know, get some familiarity back.”

You sit up fully on his lap and shake your head. “I don’t want to be alone, Jin.”

“I could come with you. Let’s go tonight, yeah? We can get some takeaways and drive over to your place and maybe watch some movies, de-stress a little bit. It’d do you some good.”

“Okay,” you say, nodding slowly, “yeah, I think that would be really nice. Do you want to go right now?”

He shrugs, smiling up at you. “Might as well. I’ve just got this last email to finish up and then I’m all yours. Sound good?”

Your heart jumps a little at the turn of phrase. “Yeah, sounds good.”

It’s a strange feeling, being back at your apartment. In some ways, you’re happy to be back in your own environment, but it’s freezing from lying empty for several days, and the sun has already gone down because of the cold season, and somehow the dark spaces feel more ominous.

So, you stick to Jin’s side, eating the Chinese takeaways he ordered quickly, wanting nothing more than for him to just throw away the dishes and kiss you like he had before. In the end, you’ve already showered and changed into pajamas, letting him borrow some of Namjoon’s, before he comes into the bathroom as you finish cleaning your teeth and, without words, backs you up against the bench, takes your face in his hands and leans down to kiss you with twice as much passion as he did before.

You let yourself relax in his strong hold, eyes fluttering shut, and it takes only a few moments of slow, open-mouthed kisses before he’s sighing sweetly and tugging on your sleeve, pulling you, without breaking the kiss, to your bedroom.

You chuckle against his lips when the first door he opens is to the garage instead of a bedroom and jerks in shock against the wave of cold air, letting you lead him into your room.

He lays you on the bed like you’re made of glass, warm fingertips brushing on the skin of your stomach as he slowly lifts up your top, leaving the smallest of kisses on every inch of skin on the way up, until you’re lifting your arms and he’s pulling the fabric over your head and to the side.

You shiver, bare nipples immediately hardening in the cold air. You haven’t yet gone into your bedroom, so the air is still cool, and goosebumps erupt over your arms. Jin sits up a little and marvels at the sight, eyes languidly tracing the curves and planes of your body. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles reverently, bending down to take a hardened peak in his hot mouth, suckling at it and nibbling on the surrounding skin.

You sigh out blissfully, torn between letting your eyes fall shut again and wanting to watch his ministrations. In the end, you tip your head back and close your eyes but reach up a hand to run your fingers through his silky hair. “Oh, Jin, it feels so good.”

He hums and pulls away from your nipple with a wet pop, moving over to give the same treatment to the other, but you tug on the roots of his hair lightly, pulling him away. “What is it, baby?”

“Jin, I need you.”

“Fuck, okay.” He straddles you and sits up to remove his own shirt. When it ruffles and disturbs the air, wafts of Namjoon’s cologne still in the fabric waft down to you, and you can’t help but cringe at the untimely reminder.

Still, your attention is soon recaptured by Jin as you feel him get up off of you and tuck his fingers under your waistband, sliding down your pants and underwear in one go. Instead of returning to hover above you, he gets down on his knees at the foot of the bed, tugging your ankles slightly to pull you lower.

His eyes flicker up to yours, lidded with desire. “Can I…” He licks his lips. “I want to touch you. I want to taste you.”

Your stomach jumps in excitement and you nod shakily, determined to watch this time. He brings his mouth down on you, massaging your inner thighs with his flat palms to keep them open for him. Your core is already hot, but the first swipe of his tongue feels like fire as he licks up your abundant arousal. He sits back a little and lets his eyes fall shut as he savors it. You think you hear him mumble something, but when you make a noise of question in your throat, he just shakes his head and dives back in, ripping a surprised moan from your throat.

It’s clear he’s not doing it to get you to cum but doing it for his own pleasure as he takes his time plundering you with his tongue, worshipping your pussy languidly but deeply.

After a minute or two of watching his blissed-out face as he eats you out, you feel the fingers of one hand tip-toe along your sensitive skin and dip into you shallowly.

You suck in a shaky breath and tilt your hips up, wanting to take him deeper, but he seems completely invested in going at his own pace.

Eventually he begins to sink them in ever so slowly, until he’s down to the base knuckle. Skipping straight to two fingers gives you a delightful stretch which you’re thankful for seeing as it seems like you’re not getting much else, but you must admit that this kind of oral definitely has its perks.

You’re not rushing towards an orgasm at any rate, but it still feels satisfying and unbelievably relaxing, like slipping into a spa pool, and you feel yourself becoming boneless on the mattress.

He slowly rocks his fingers back in forth inside you, deep and purposeful rather than fast and intense, and maintains a dutiful tempo with his tongue on your clit.

When he finally comes up for air and slips his fingers out of you, you moan hopelessly, unable to put the energy into your muscles to move. You hear him sigh happily as he shucks his pants and boxers and uses the lubrication of his precum to pump his cock a few times.

“Shuffle back for me, baby,” he whispers sweetly, helping you navigate your way further up the bed until your legs are no longer hanging off the edge.

He gets on and holds himself on top of you, leaning in for another slow kiss. As you feel his tongue, tangy with your juices, slide over yours, you realize that you’ve never had sex that felt so much like ‘making love’ rather than fucking before.

One of his hands, the one that isn’t slicked up from your pussy, is playing with your hair and tugging on it softly, setting off bursts of pleasure inside you, and the one that is wet is using that natural lubricant to pay attention to the nipple you made him neglect earlier, like he’s taking his chance to give it the same treatment it missed out on before.

“Please, Jin,” you moan as he moves down and begins sucking and nibbling your pulse point on your neck, “I need you inside me. I can’t wait any longer.”

He swears quietly with lust and shuffles himself on top of you, sitting between your now-widely spread legs instead of on either side of them, and uses one hand to guide himself to your entrance.

He mutters under his breath again when he sinks in, but the words are drowned out by your heady moan of satisfaction as he buries himself to the hilt in one stroke. His eyes wander searchingly over your face for any signs of discomfort, but when he finds only pleasure, he pulls out until just his tip reminds snugly inside, then snaps his hips down again, feeling you clench around him.

The only sounds in the room are your pants and moans as he begins to thrust into you in rocking motions, so that each movement pushes his cock against your upper wall, firing up the nerves behind your pubic bone in a way that has you breathless, even as he maintains a steady pace. “Oh, Jin, yes, oh, right there,” you have no control over your mouth anymore, content to just let whatever praises spill from your mouth come, and he doesn’t complain.

You’d quite happily stay like this forever, in his embrace as he mouths at your neck and rocks into you, but when his breath begins to catch and he becomes louder, he brings a hand down to press at your clit, and the extra stimulation brings you to the edge just as he gets close himself.

His lips move down lower and to the side, to your shoulder, and he bites down lightly in an effort to not be so loud, fingers speeding up as they play with your sensitive bud, and without realizing you were on the brink, you fall into a toe-curling orgasm that is drawn out. The way you clench rhythmically around him sends him over the edge too, and the pressure of his teeth increases just below the point of serious pain as his muffled screams pair with the feeling of something hot shooting up inside you.

The two of you stay connected like that for a while, Jin releasing your shoulder and lapping apologetically at the tooth marks but making no move to slip out of you. In the end, he manages to maneuver himself to lie on his side, one leg thrown over you, and falls asleep still inside you.

As his breathing slows and forms a steady cycle, you feel the blissful blackness of sleep take you too.

TAGLIST Message me or send in an ask if you wish to be added to the taglist. You’ll receive a notification every time I update ZODIAC.

@itishebihime-samaforyou || @hoodiebangtan || @sunnysideupsmile|| @emilypkuzu || @youngmsfts || @sugarrimajins || @samisderp 

[master-sass-blast]

I’m Not as Think as You Drunk I Am.

OH, WHAT’S THIS, ANOTHER FIC?

YES. YES IT IS.

And, like the title suggests, it involves drinking; this is your obligatory PSA to drink responsibly and legally. It may seem like fun, but you can actually kill yourself if you drink too much. Stay safe, kids.

Summary: Wade gets the Reader DRUNK during a New Year’s celebration at the X-Mansion. Piotr finds out and gets pissed, then helps the Reader recover from their hangover the next morning.

Rating: T for strong language and alcohol consumption.

Warnings: Vomiting, legal alcohol consumption, hangovers, etc.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

(Title from “Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time” lyric by Panic! At The Disco.)

You’re minding your own business, just hanging out in the library while you innocently sketch in your drawing pad.

But, then, that’s usually how these things happen.

Wade bounds into the library, skips towards you, and hops over the couch before crouching behind you and putting his hand over your mouth. “Don’t scream. It’s just me.”

“I literally just saw you come in,” You mumble against his palm before pushing his hand away. “What’s up?”

Wade yanks on your arm until you climb over the back of the couch and crouch next to him. “Okay, so this is for your ears only, okay? Wolvie and I managed to hide some booze in the mansion for the New Year’s party tomorrow. There’s going to be a party in the basement after the fireworks go off. Anyone under twenty-one, Mr. Pole Up the Ass, and Colossus are absolutely not invited, capiche?”

You frown. “And you’re telling me this because...”

“Uh, because drinking alcohol is a great rite of passage in America. I’m Canadian, and I know that. You’re legal, right?”’

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re invited. Look, it’s better to drink with friends for the first time. We’ve all drank alcohol before --I can’t drunk anyway, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on you--and you’ll be at a safe place with literal doctors on staff if you get sick. It’s perfect!”

Hindsight will tell you that this is a bad idea. Horrible. Utterly stupid.

But, right now, you don’t have hindsight. All you have is foresight, and you’re foreseeing a lot of fun and new experiences in the future.

You grin. “Awesome.”

“And just what are you two doing?”

You and Wade both jump and stare guiltily up at your boyfriend.

He’s in his metal form right now, thick arms crossed over his burly chest. “Why are you hiding behind couch and whispering?”

“Hi, Pete!” You chirp with a sunny grin. “We’re booby-trapping Scott’s underwear drawer for New Year’s!”

“Don’t tell him!” Wade hisses, playing along with your deception.

Piotr simply shakes his head --but you can seem him repressing a smile. “Play nice, you two. No pranks tomorrow.”

“Aw, babe--”

“Nyet, myshka. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is celebration, not time for pranks.”

You pout, slump your shoulders, and hang your head. “Okay.”

“Hey! I didn’t agree to this!”

“Fine! Do it without me!”

Piotr chuckles and turns to leave. “Behave, you two.”

“I make no promises!”

You opt to blow a kiss at your boyfriend --and he blows one back, which makes your cheeks flush--then grin at Wade when he’s gone and hold up your fist. “How awesome was that?”

Wade returns your fist bump with an equally devious grin. “So awesome.”

“Five... four... three... two... one!”

People cheer, fireworks go off, and camera lights flash as the world officially rolls over into a New Year.

Piotr grins down at you, holding you to him with one hand and using the other to caress your face. “S noyvm godom, myshka.”

You grin back. “Kiss me, darling.”

He does. Passionately, and longer than he would normally dare in other public displays of affection. When he pulls back, his cheeks are flushed and he looks immensely pleased. “A New Year.”

“A New Year,” you repeat. You grin, then lean up on your toes. “To all it may bring.”

“Da.” He kisses you again, then breaks it with a sigh. “I am on teenager duty tonight, unfortunately.”

“I know.” You feign a yawn and give him a sheepish look. “I’m actually kind of tired...”

He pats your shoulder and kisses the top of your head. “Go rest, myshka. One of us should.”

You press a kiss against his cheek, then head upstairs. Phase One: Complete.

You and Wade had constructed a damn near fool proof plan to sneak you downstairs without your mother hen boyfriend noticing. Wade had paid Russell fifty dollars to light something outside on fire to create a diversion, and he’d text you once it was safe for you to come down.

Within two minutes of skulking around the hall, you hear the loud ‘fwoom’ of one of Russell’s fireballs; mere seconds later, your phone chirps with a text from Wade.

Bro: Silver ballz is outsies. Bring on da booze!!! Get ur ass down here. XD XP

You: Don’t ever call him ‘silver ballz’ again. That’s just gross. And I’m on my way.

You creep back down the hall, listening for any signs of approaching residents. 

Fortunately, almost everyone’s outside, distracted by Russell’s explosion. 

You hop over the railing by the staircase and make an air current to float down to the floor. The backdoor’s open, and you can actually see Piotr outside in defense mode, trying to put out a burning rose bush.

“Psst! Come on! Stop ogling and get down here!” Wade hisses through the barely ajar basement door.

You dart over and slip down the stairs, an excited grin on your face.

Logan and Nathan are already down there, drinks in hand. Neena’s with them as well, along with Peter, Kurt, and Bobby.

“Rogue and Gambit should be joining us later,” Wade says as he joins you at the bottom of the stairs. “In the meantime, let’s get this party started!”

“For once, Wilson, you’ve had a good idea,” Logan growls as he takes a swig from his red solo cup. “Colossus’s kept us from having adult New Years for a while now.”

“Yeah, well, the world’s largest Silver Bullet ain’t got nothin’ on me!” Wade pulls out a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. “First shot of the night goes to Princess here, since it’s her first time.”

“Oh, everyone, you know what that means,” Neena says with a grin.

You frown as the others refill their cups. “What does it mean?”

“Everyone downs a drink once you take your first shot,” Bobby says as he blows on his cup to cool it down.

You blink, then eye your shot glass suspiciously. “That sounds... dubious.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just your inner Piotr talking.” Wade holds out the shot glass to you. “He’ll shut up after the second or third shot.” When you hesitate, his face softens. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You eye the glass in his hand, then shrug. “Hashtag YOLO.” You pick up the glass, lift it to your lips, then tilt your head back and down the shot in a few swallows, just like you’ve seen in the movies.

Well, almost like you’ve seen in the movies. It takes a couple tries for you to swallow it all down, and you cough once the glass is empty. “Oh my gosh. That burns.”

Wade cheers and claps his hands. “Well done! Considerably less flailing than I was expecting. All right, everyone else, she’s done it; bottoms up!”

You watch, stunned as the other adults drain their cups --cups, not shot glasses--in long, easy swallows. Your mind already feels a little hazy, but you still can’t fathom drinking this stuff that easily.

Nathan finishes first with a growl. “Keep it coming, Wade. It’s been a hell of a year.”

A couple hours in and you’re feeling great. The shots just get easier and easier to take the more you drink, and each shot you take has you feeling more and more relaxed.

Beer, however, tastes like piss; you have no idea how Nate and Logan stomach the stuff.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Nathan says with a crooked grin after he lets you trip a sip of his drink; his cheeks are flushed --apparently, he can drunk, just not as fast as you.

“An’ you keep callin’ Wade the s-su-stupid one.” You giggle and rock back in your chair, almost knocking it over. “You’re the one wi’ the stupid hair, ‘fter all.”

“My hair... is not stupid,” Nathan grumbles, pointing a finger at you.

“Maybe not, but Wade doesn’ have any, which jus’ leave you.”

“She’s got a point,” Logan says with a chuckle as he watches Domino destroy Bobby, Kurt, and Peter at beer pong. “The default answer is you.”

Nathan flips him off.

You laugh again, flopping around in your seat. You feel amazing. Normally, there’s always an underlying current of stress and worry, but right now it’s gone. You feel completely relaxed, without a care in your mind.

Your ‘Piotr’ voice --it’s not gone, just really hard to hear right now--is saying something about it being fake and one of the addictive side effects of alcohol, but you’re too busy taking another shot to focus on the actual words.

“Okay, pumpkin!” Wade lifts the shot glass out of your hand. “That’s the cut off point for you. You’ve had seven, and I’m not trying to give you alcohol poisoning.”

You pout at him. “I was havin’ fun! The fuck?”

“You can have it back in a couple hours, once you’ve guzzled some water, peed, and eaten something. The bathroom’s right behind you. I suggest you go there, because pissing your pants isn’t as fun as it sounds. Believe me, I would know.”

You blink owlishly at him. “Huh?”

“Maybe you should cut her off for the night,” Logan suggests. “She’s clearly a lightweight.”

You can’t really process what they’re saying. You’re too busy rubbing your hands all over your face. “I can’t feel my face,” You sing. “She tol’ me... don’ worry... ‘bout it!” You slap yourself across the face --it takes a couple tries, but you manage--and gasp when no sting of pain follows. “Holy shit! I don’ feel pain anymore!”

Wade laughs hysterically as he holds your hands away from your face. “I wish I had a camera! This is fucking priceless! Y/N, you’re completely toasted!”

You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a loud banging noise that distracts you. You loll your head back and try to see what’s going on.

Piotr tromps down the stairs in his human mode, fists clenched at his side. His blue eyes are wide with fury, and his mouth his clenched shut. He stops at the bottom of the stairs and glares down the room. “What is going on?”

“Shit,” Wade mutters under his breath. He forces a grin and stands, partially hiding you from view. “Colossus! Buddy! Welcome to the party!”

“Enough. Where is Y/N?”

You gasp once your brain catches up with your eyes. “Oh! Piotr’s here!” You smile --because you’re genuinely happy to see him, even though you’re too drunk to think right now--when his gaze snaps to you. “Hi, baby! How’s it goin’?”

He relaxes, just a little. “You’re going to bed. Now.”

You nod, happy to along with whatever he says. “Okay.” You manage to get out of your chair, but start falling over as soon as you try to walk.

Piotr darts forward and catches you, clutching you against his chest to keep you from toppling over.

You nuzzle your face against his chest, marveling at how soft his shirt is. You can’t really hear what he’s saying to the others, but you can feel the resonance of his voice in his chest. It tickles your face, and you let out a soft giggle as you wrap your arms around his waist. “You’re all buzzy.”

Piotr sighs and pats your back. “Come on, lyublyu. To bed with you.” He places his hands under your shoulders and tenses. “I’m going to carry you, okay?”

“Right.” You gasp when he lifts you --then groan when the room spins. “Oh shit. Everything’s sideways.”

Piotr tucks you against his chest and walks towards the stairs. “Close your eyes. Just let me take care of you.”

The trek to his room is mercifully short --though that might have to do with your passing out halfway through. Your eyes pop open when he sets you on his bed. “Huh? Where am I?”

“In bed.” He kisses your forehead. “Stay here. I’ll get you one of my shirts.”

You whine as he walks away. “No! Don’ leave me!”

“I’m just right here, at the closet. You can still see me.”

“But you’re so far ‘way!” You sob into the bed. “‘m all alone.”

“No, you’re not,” he says as he kneels in front of you. “I’m right here.”

You gasp. “You’re back! You were gone f’rever!”

He kisses your temple and wipes the tears off your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’ll be faster next time.” He sits you up and starts peeling you out of your clothes.

“Bow chika wow wow,” You mumble as he strips you out of your jeans. You start singing the intro to ‘Careless Whisper,’ but give up about halfway through. “Pete?”

“Da, dorogaya moya?”

“I think ‘m drunk.”

Last night, you felt great.

This morning, you abso-fucking-lutely do not.

Your head feels like someone’s driving an ice pick into it. Your body aches, and your stomach feels like it’s about to commit mutiny.

And you’re tired. You feel like you got hit by an insomnia train.

Piotr’s hand rubs up and down your back in soothing circles. “How are you feeling, myshka?”

You bury your face into your pillow to try and block out the light streaming through the windows. “Oh God. I think I’m gonna die!”

His lips press against your shoulder. “You’re hungover. Wade said you had seven vodka shots last night.”

“I didn’t mean to! Holy shit, this sucks! Why didn’t Wade tell me about this? I’m gonna murder him!”

“Later, dorogoy. Try to focus on getting rest for now.”

You would, but at that moment your stomach decides to launch its mutiny into motion. You lurch out of bed and bolt for the bathroom, diving for the toilet as the first round of stomach contractions start.

You’re not sure how long you spend vomiting into the porcelain bowl, but when you finally get a reprieve you realize Piotr’s sitting next to you, holding your hair back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s natural reaction for hangover.”

“No --well, yeah, but not what I was talking about. I’m sorry that I went to the party behind your back, and I’m sorry I drank alcohol when I wasn’t supposed to. I’m sorry I broke the rules.”

He rubs your back with his free hand. “We’ll talk about it when you’re better --but you are very much forgiven.”

Once your body settles, he leaves your side to turn the shower on.

You grimace at the sound of the water pelting the shower floor. “That’s so loud! Turn it off!”

 “Sorry, dorogoy, but you’ll feel better after shower.” He helps you out of your pajamas --then strips down and joins you.

Normally, you’d be delighted by that, but right now you’re entirely consumed by how shitty you’re feeling. All you can really do is stand under the spray of the water and squeeze your eyes shut to try and block out the pain.

Fortunately, you don’t have to do more than that. Piotr’s in full ‘mother hen boyfriend’ mode right now, determined to help you survive your first ever hangover. He gently washes --and conditions--your hair and lathers your body in soap with such nurturing tenderness that you don’t even get turned on from having your boyfriend literally rub you from head to toe.

That, and you feel like shit. Actually, it might be more of the latter than the former.

Once you’re all rinsed, Piotr turns the water off and dries both of you off before helping you into a fresh set of pajamas. Then, in a gesture of ultimate chivalry, he carries you the ten foot distance back to the bed and tucks you in. “I’m going to make you some breakfast. Rest in meantime.”

You groan. “No. No food.”

“Your body needs food to help process alcohol out of system. Trust me, da? I have been hungover before. I know what helps.”

You snort, which makes your headache worse, but you can’t help it. “You? Hungover? Likely story.”

“I had rebellious phase!” He sounds indignant. “I was not always like I am now.”

“Sure, babe.” You manage to find his hand and pat it. “What, did you jaywalk instead of using the crosswalks like a law-abiding citizen?”

He huffs and kisses your temple. “Very funny, myshka. Get some rest while I make food.”

You’re out before he closes the door.

Nearly an hour later and he’s back, gently rousing you from sleep and helping you sit up.

“Breakfast in bed? What sort of alternate universe is this?” You grumble, feeling somewhat better after a nap.

“Special circumstance.” He sets up a tray table next to his bed, then sets a bottle of water and a couple ibuprofen pills on the table. “Take these and drink some water. I’ll be back in few minutes.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, you realize your mouth is bone dry. You take the pain pills and guzzle half the bottle, but your mouth wicks all the water away like one of those miracle drying rags Wade keeps buying off the infomercial channels.

Speaking of Wade, he’s walking into the room. “You okay?”

You glare at him as you gulp from the water bottle. “I’m gonna fucking murder you.”

“Figured. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about the hangover. I don’t get hungover anymore; I didn’t even think about it.” He sets an orange prescription bottle on the tray table. “But I brought a peace offering. Prescription painkillers. Best shit you can get.”

“Absolutely not.” Piotr storms into the room, sets the plate he’d been carrying for you on his desk, and yanks Wade away from you. “You’ve done enough damage already.”

“Piotr, calm down!” You exclaim, wincing at how loud your voice is. Quieter, you add, “He’s just trying to be nice.”

“By offering you stolen prescription. After getting you overly intoxicated.”

“They’re mine!” Wade insists as he flails in Piotr’s grip. “Legal and all that shit! I still have cancer, asshole. They prescribe painkillers to help with that.”

Piotr picks up the bottle, then sets Wade down after reading the label. “I am sorry. I should not have assumed. But you still got Y/N drunk --after you were told to not bring alcohol in for New Year’s. And you bribed Russell.”

“Look, babe, he wanted to introduce me to alcohol safely.”

“By breaking rules, causing damage, and lying.”

“By doing it in a safe place, with people who know me and know how alcohol effects the body, and where we had access to a doctor if things went super sideways. He didn’t take me to a bar, he didn’t force me to drink anything, and he cut me off before I got too out of control. I think he deserves some credit for that.”

Piotr mulls it over, then sighs. “Your intentions were... good, Wade. Even if your techniques were... misguided.”

“Thank you.”

“You still have to answer for your actions. You broke many rules last night, and bribing Russell to cause damage to property is unacceptable. He or any number of others could have been seriously hurt.”

 “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Wade waves his hand dismissively before plucking his bottle of painkillers out of your boyfriend’s hand. “I’m going now. Before you get too far into lecture mode.”

Piotr glares after him, then shakes his head and retrieves the plate from his desk. “Sorry about that, moya lyubov’.”

“It’s okay.” You gratefully accept the plate --you’re hungry now, ravenous beyond belief.

The plate is loaded with all your favorites --including a small stack of golden, perfectly fluffy chocolate chip pancakes.

Piotr kisses the top of your head as you dig in. “I will be right back. Do you want more water?”

“Yes, please.”

He returns a few minutes later, water bottle tucked under his arm and two glasses in hand. One is filled with an orange liquid and almost looks appetizing; the other...

“Is that... pickle juice?” You grimace when you give the contents of the glass a precursory sniff. “Why? Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Salt will help your body. Take sips. Don’t try to drink it all at once.”

You take a sip --and it’s a disgustingly salty and sour--and eye the other glass with suspicion. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

Piotr holds it out to you. “It is Russian hangover cure. I think you will like this better.”

You sniff the contents --it smells decidedly better, just barely not like orange juice--and take a sip. “Oh! I like that!” You down the glass easily and set it on the table as you smack your lips. “Can I have more of that?”

“Maybe later, if you still need it. Try to keep eating.”

You manage, growing more subdued and sleepier as you fill your belly. Eventually, Piotr says you’ve eaten enough --and drank enough of the pickle juice, which is still gross--and lets you flop back down on the bed.

He pulls the blankets up around your shoulders and smooths your hair away from your face as you settle back in. “I will check on you later. Rest well, myshka.”

You wake up several hours later, feeling considerably less fucked over. Your head no longer feels like it’s being scooped out by a melon baller, and your stomach is considerably less grumpy. You manage to get yourself upright and pad out of Piotr’s room on shaky legs.

The mansion is practically silent as you wander through the large halls. Most of the mutants visit their families during Christmas and New Year’s, meaning that there’s no one to run into while you search for your boyfriend.

Which is probably for the best. You can walk, but you definitely don’t feel human enough for conversation.

It takes a while, but you manage to track him down; he’s outside, in full on defense mode, watching Nathan, Neena, Logan, Kurt, Wade, Peter, and Bobby clean up the remains from Russell’s bush burning.

Scott’s also there, supervising, which briefly makes you hesitate; you ultimately decide that you want your boyfriend, so you jam your boots onto your feet and brave the cold and snow.

The sunlight hurts your head, and you tromp towards Piotr as quickly as you can.

He starts slightly when you wrap your arms around his waist --considerably harder than usual since he’s in defense mode--and turns around with a concerned frown on his face. “Y/N? You should be inside.”

“I wanted to come find you,” You mumble as you press your face into his coat to block out the piercing sunlight.

He makes sure Scott is good to go, then scoops you into his arms and carries you inside. Before you can think of anything to say, you’re back in his room and in bed again with the blankets tucked over your legs.

He hands you the water bottle as you prop yourself into a sitting position. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. My head still hurts, though.”

He kisses your forehead, almost like a parent kissing their child’s scraped knee. “Do you want some more painkillers?”

“Later. I saw that you had the guys and Neena doing due penance. Why didn’t you have me out there, too? I was part of last night.”

Piotr takes one of your hands in his and kisses your knuckles. “Scott and I talked it over with the Professor. We decided better ‘penance’ would be to have you take course on alcohol safety.”

You frown. “Scott agreed to that?”

“Eventually. Wade made very compelling case for you this morning. He said you had no experience with alcohol previously, and that you had no basis to know why New Year’s rule was in place to begin with.”

You make a mental note to thank Wade later.

“The Professor and I agreed --and Scott added the safety course, which is not that unreasonable, I think.”

“It’s not,” You admit. “But I might bitch about it anyway.”

“And I will be there to pat your hand and remind you that it is due consequence of your choices.”

“Like the wonderful boyfriend you are. Pampering me and keeping me grounded.” You smile softly. “I like to think you bring out the best in me, Pete.”

He smiles back and kisses you gently. “I like to think you bring out best in me, Y/N.”

Despite the pounding in your head and the knowledge that you’re going to have to take a pain the ass course eventually, you melt into the kiss.

There’s no place you’d rather be.

[ozqrowsecretsanta]

Stocking Stuffer (#2!)

We have another one! This stocking stuffer is for @supposedlyjunkoenoshima <3

***

(hey!! sorry this is kinda late in the day (and stupid) but I hope you enjoy it anyway and that you’re having a nice thanksgiving!) 

"You can't be serious."

"Serious as a heart attack. Which is what you'll be getting if you keep stuffing those down your gob."

Ozpin paused in the act of eating another buckeye... before shrugging and taking a bite. He swallowed, satisfied. "I believe the appropriate term for the season is gobble-gobble, and I’m quite sure that heart attacks arise from cholesterol, not sweets. Really, Qrow, I'm in perfect health—provided that you don't kill me with another one of your inane plans."

In response Qrow dumped his whole box of craft supplies across Ozpin's table, smirking at the mess. He didn't actually need most of this, but damn if it wasn’t satisfying to dirty this place up a bit. His boyfriend's apartment was way too neat.

"Must you," Ozpin ask, briefly shutting his eyes.

"Yes."

He popped another buckeye for support.

"It's a great idea, Oz, just you wait. The girls make Tai and me Thanksgiving cards every year—you'll definitely be getting one too—so it's only fair that we give some back to them, yeah? Don't get your boxers in a twist over the mess, I'll clean it all up before I go, and—” Qrow suddenly cut himself off. “Motherfuck. Okay, did I actually cross some sort of line?"

Ozpin had been keeping his gaze firmly on the far wall but now he whipped his head back, finding Qrow staring dejectedly down at all the table. He'd gone from teasing to unsure in the span of a heartbeat which, Ozpin had learned over the past few months, was a fairly normal occurrence for him. It took Ozpin a moment to realize what exactly Qrow was staring at: a bottle that had rolled to the very edge of the table and popped its cap. Pink glitter now covered his previously white carpet.

"I'll fix this," Qrow sighed, running a hand through this hair. "Shit, Oz. I didn’t mean to—I just wanted to give you some of the stuff you missed out on as a kid. You're right though. It's stupid."

Ozpin felt his chest constricting. Ha, perhaps he was having a heart attack. It had only been a few weeks before that he had finally told Qrow a bit about his past. Nothing Earth-shattering like most people assumed given his supposedly "enigmatic" nature. Just what so many children dealt with still: inattentive parents, a general lack of care. He'd mentioned it solely because the holidays were approaching and the last thing Ozpin wanted was for Qrow to be blindsided by his general indifference to them. Especially while dating a man who had surrounded himself with family and friends, two young nieces dragging him into all manner of festivities. His honesty had been in preparation only. Ozpin had hardly expected Qrow to try and do something about it.

His hand shot out to stop Qrow before he could stand.

"Leave it," he murmured, squeezing. "I was merely joking with my anger. Teasing you, Qrow. Quite badly it seems. I apologize."

Qrow's whole body sagged. "You're not just saying that?"

"Certainly not."

"Jeez. Well then we’re both just a couple of badly communicating assholes, huh?"

"I would say so, yes."

Qrow shook his head and Ozpin was thrilled to see that smile return, slow as it was. He left the glitter as requested and pulled out sheets of cardboard paper instead, tapping the page.

"Ruby still likes those turkeys," he said seriously. "The ones you make with your hand? Gets a laugh out of the kid every time. Give her one of those and she’ll love you for life."

Was that so? Qrow’s expression said that the act might well secure his love as well…

Interesting.

"I'm afraid I don't know how to make those."

Qrow paused while sketching something onto his own paper. He slowly raised his gaze, eyes disbelieving. There was, 'I've never done these holiday traditions before' and then there was, 'I don't even know what they are.' Ozpin was too smart for the latter.

Still, Qrow tested the waters. “You really don’t know?”

“Mm.”

"I could... show you?"

And Ozpin made sure that his grin was just this side of sultry. He slid down the couch a bit, patting the space between his legs.

"I think you'd better."

Ah. Qrow getting it—that was satisfying.

His own grin lit up his face as Qrow came around to the other side, taking the offered seat. It was a tough squeeze, both their knees pressed up against the table's edge now, but they were willing to make it work. Especially when Ozpin was a warm weight pressed flush against his back and Qrow could tilt his head to drag a quick kiss along Ozpin's neck. He smiled against his skin before laying the paper flat against both their thighs.

"Well, you start by tracing your hand..."

"No, no. I'm afraid I'm a very slow learner, Qrow. You'll need to show me."

"... Heh. Alright then."

Biting his lip Qrow started with his knuckles grazing Ozpin's cheek, reveling in how he immediately shut his eyes; a little, breathy sigh drifting past his lips. Stroking, he trailed fingers down and over Ozpin's shoulder, walking the length of his arm, reaching for his hand—intertwining their fingers. Honestly Qrow meant to move their hands together and actually start drawing... but somehow he never quite got that far. Probably because Ozpin had started nuzzling Qrow's hair and shifting his legs in a rather obscene manner.

"Fuck it," Qrow muttered and cut off Ozpin's laugh with a kiss. He'd never been much for gentle, but he could do devoted just fine. Qrow shifted to frame Ozpin's face between his hands, using tongue and teeth to drag a high-pitched moan out of him, grinding once to collect a whimper as well. When Oz pulled back for breath Qrow set to giving the man a hickey well above his collar. No doubt that was another rite of passage the nerd had missed out on.

Ozpin tilted his head back, huffing. "I do want to create cards for the girls. Just—just not right now, perhaps."

"Mmm, good to hear it. Good taste too..."

"Qrow."

"What? Let me have my meal now. God knows Tai's probably gonna fuck up the turkey."

"Quite alright, considering there's a good chance that turkey wasn't actually a part of the first feast. In many respects a night of fasting would be far more appropriate, as a means of atonement for our genocide of countless indigenous people in the creation of this country."

Oz was surprised when Qrow suddenly stopped his lavish attention. He blinked up at the ceiling. Wait.

"I've ruined the mood again, haven't I?"

"...a little bit, yeah."

"... Sorry."

"Well I'm sorry about ruining the carpet, so that makes two of us."

Qrow pulled back and slid down a bit, cuddling Oz instead. The perks of dating the stupidly tall. After a moment he felt Ozpin begin playing with stray strands of his hair, the two of them staring contentedly down at the unmade Thanksgiving cards and the bright spot of pink on the rug.

"It's only glitter," Ozpin said. "It will vacuum right out."

Qrow pat Ozpin's knee. "Yeeeeeah. About that. You ever tried to remove glitter paint?"

"...oh dear."

“Exactly.”

The girls did eventually get their cards—sporting hand turkeys and as much glitter as Qrow could scoop out of the carpet.

The rest (like Qrow himself) was there to stay.

[j-writes-and-suffers]

NaNoWriMo Day Two

Philip woke up to a hand on his shoulder. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, sitting up straighter in his armchair. “Huh? What’s up?”

“I’m afraid I have to kick you out, now. It’s midnight, the library is closing.” A familiar lanky figure was standing over Philip, his eyes in shadow, but his smile visible. All the lights except the one nearest them had been turned off, giving the library an eerie haunted-castle vibe.

“Crap. Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.” Philip scrambled to his feet, cursing under his breath. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep so early; he’d bring a second coffee with him next time. Gathering his things, he realized his phone was almost dead, and he’d only finished half his lesson plans. He felt like a lazy idiot, and to make it worse, Lucien had witnessed all his incompetence. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he hurried to the door.

Lucien chuckled. “Don’t stress yourself out. I’m not in any rush to leave.” He walked past Philip to hold the door for the younger man. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.” Philip nodded as he strolled down the front steps, “See you tomorrow.” He stopped dead in his tracks. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that, it was just his default reply to classmates and professors.

“Is that a promise?” Still standing at the door, Lucien raised an eyebrow, backlit and grinning mischievously.

Philip bit his lip, his face flushing as he tried to gauge whether Lucien was joking. “Um… sure?”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you then.” Lucien closed the door behind him, locking it with a creaky old key.

“Yeah. Uh-huh. See you.” Philip bolted off into the night before he could say anything else stupid. By the time he got back to his apartment, it was nearly one in the morning, and he was fucking exhausted. His phone had died on the walk home, so he stuck it on the charger, changing into pajamas in the meantime.

Despite how tired he was, Philip found himself struggling to sleep. There were too many thoughts clattering around in his head. Tomorrow was the first day of Welcome Week - a period of five days prior to the start of school with introductory celebrations, campus tours, and nightly food and games.

Tuesday morning was a pep rally, followed by the induction of all the new students and teachers. In the afternoon, there were games and raffles where school merchandise like shirts, pencils, and mugs could be won. On Wednesday, the clubs, fraternities, sororities, and other organizations put out booths around the school, with recruiters trying to pull in freshman and transfers. Thursday, all the different departments held events, including a documentary marathon by the History Department, go-kart racing in the Engineering Department, and the English Department's poetry slam, which Philip was going to help host. Friday was the students versus professors dodgeball game - an infamously fun but chaotic yearly tradition. Finally, Saturday, there was a school spirit parade through the town, followed by a huge picnic in the courtyard and a bonfire in the evening, Philip wondered if he would see Lucien at any of the Spirit events. He also started to worry whether he would actually have time to return to the library tomorrow. He was helping run games in the afternoon, and wouldn't be free until at least eight or nine. He did still need to finish his lesson plans though, so he decided that even if he was tired and running a little late, he would indeed be back as promised.

He was also wondering if Lucien really wanted him to come back. Was he just messing with Philip, teasing the newcomer for shits and giggles? Or did he actually have an interest in his new colleague, and genuinely want to get to know him. He had seemed pretty sincere when they spoke, and something about his warm, vibrant eyes and subtle coy smile drew Philip in, making him more compelled to trust the older man.

What could Lucien possibly see in him? Philip wondered. He wasn't very intelligent, or worldly, or even funny. He was barely more than a student himself, just an awkward 20-something struggling to acclimate to adult responsibilities. Maybe he could impress Lucien during the week; he was planning to perform a couple of his own poems on Thursday, and he was actually pretty decent at dodgeball. Once he proved that he actually had some talents, maybe Lucien would think of him as an equal, instead of the silly kid he appeared to be now.

Having finally gathered a charge, Philip’s phone lit up as it turned itself back on. He grabbed it to check for messages - nothing new, save for an automated reminder from his cell provider. Even though the digital clock in the top right of the screen read 3:17, Philip couldn’t bring himself to try to sleep. When he closed his eyes, bright green irises hovered in his mind, simultaneously making him excited and self-conscious.

Pulling up Facebook on his phone again, he scrolled through the cute animal pictures and political memes his friends had posted all evening. He found himself laughing at most of the posts, and started to wonder whether he really was any more mature than the rest of his social circle. When he found himself guffawing at a three-second clip of a screaming frog, Philip realized he definitely wasn’t. Maybe that was okay, though. Maybe he had judged his friends too harshly earlier. Being ‘professional’ and ‘adult’ was soul-suckingly boring; there was nothing wrong with keeping a youthful sense of humour.

It was nearly five in the morning by the time Philip finally nodded off, and he groaned in dismay when his seven-thirty alarm started blaring. He should probably have gotten up earlier, to be honest; the pep rally started at nine, and he still needed to shower, eat, and walk to campus. He had thought that two and a half miles would be plenty close enough to live, but as it turns out, that’s still a pretty decent distance without a car. To be fair, Philip technically had a car. There was a vehicle registered to him, and it was parked outside the apartment. He owned the keys, and even remembered where he had left them. However, the car was older than Philip and ran about as well as an arthritic old man. It guzzled gas like no tomorrow, and didn’t even start half the time. Going anywhere less than five miles away just wasn’t worth firing it up.

By the time he had clean hair, pants on, and food in his stomach, it was already eight fifteen. Philip glanced at his phone in desperation, hoping maybe if he stared at the clock hard enough, it would rewind a ways. The clock, of course, did no such thing, simply moving on to eight sixteen as if to tell him, “Nice try, moron. Now run, or you’re gonna be late.” Philip sighed, grabbing his bag and hurrying out the front door.

The clock read 8:57 by the time he reached campus, and it was actually about five past nine when Philip finally got into the gym. Luckily, the band was blaring and the students were cheering, so it wasn’t too hard for one small guy to sneak in unnoticed. He found space to sit near the top of the bleachers, and perched on the edge of the bench. The height was a little daunting, especially since the bleachers were old and none too sturdy, but he tried to focus on the celebration below. Running a hand nervously through his hair, Philip hummed his way through the school song, realizing in the process that he didn’t know the lyrics to save his life. He probably should’ve learned them before showing up, but it was a little late for that now. However, most of the students did know the song, and their belting voices drowned out his incompetence.

When the song was over, the cheerleaders came out to do a routine, and Philip found himself struggling to focus. His mind was on Lucien again, and the height of the bleachers was really starting to bother him. Every time he looked down, his head started to spin, and about halfway through the rally, he gave up, climbing to his feet and shuffling back down the stairs. His hand cinched tightly to the railing the whole way, as he didn’t trust his wobbling legs to keep him upright. Once he was outside and on level ground, Philip managed to calm down a bit, sinking down on a bench outside the gymnasium. He checked his phone to see what time it was. 9:45. The induction ceremony wasn’t till eleven, so he had a bit to relax and compose himself.

He pulled out his phone, grabbing headphones from his bag. Listening to music always helped him relax, and his favourite band had recently put out a new album. He leaned back against the brick exterior of the gym, breathing in the cool morning air. Today was a good day. Today was an important day. He was going to be inducted, officially made part of the Elk Grove family. He was going to be a Stag, and today he’d get his honorary antlers. As silly as the mascot implementation seemed, Elk Grove had a strong school spirit, and the Stag Family was a big part of it. They may not be a big school, but they were a tight-knit one, and fiercely loyal to boot. Being a Stag wasn’t something you grew out of upon retirement or graduation, it was a title for life.

Music in his ears and a quiet breeze rustling his hair, Philip zoned out, the serenity of a tranquil fall morning sucking all the anxiety right out of him. The induction ceremony had initially seemed intimidating - the whole school watching while you made your rite of passage, going from an outsider to one of them - but now, he couldn’t wait. He had always been a bit of an outsider as a kid; small, scatterbrained, and goofy, he didn’t fit in with the athletes, the nerds, or the popular kids. This was finally a place where he could belong and be welcomed with open arms.

[ellebeebee]

Seachange

Part Seven/Nine

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six

After the Archon’s ship, Mira declares a need for a break.  She and Liam go out on the town in Kadara Port, and later Liam bonds with her brother.

4283 words, Liam x f!Ryder, teen rating

AO3

-

After a week of Lexi regularly taking her aside for exams and searching questions, various crewmembers giving her the sad are-you-sure-you’re-okay eyes, and a generous helping of his own need to cling and reassure himself of her alright-ness– after a week of this treatment, and a week of her own nightly wrestling sessions with the covers and invisible dream world enemies, he shouldn’t have been much surprised when she marched into crew quarters and announced:

“I want to get wasted.”

Liam looked up from his backwards seat in the quarters desk chair, in mid-conversation with Jaal.

“Oh… kay?” he said.

The hatch hissed behind her. She dropped on one of the bottom bunks and slung her legs out. She didn’t exactly glare at them, but a low-set brow intensified a stubborn sort of burn gleaming in her eyes.

“You. Me. Tomorrow night, Kralla’s Song,” Mira told him.

“Sounds intense. Should I wear armor? Pack medigel?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “C’mon. Please? You owe me a date.”

He coughed, heat rising along his neck. “I didn’t say no– I mean, yeah. Of course.”

His hands tapped at the back of the swivel chair he sat in, and his eyes skittered over the room’s contents. He’d been finding it increasingly difficult to, uh… deal? With her? Or not really “deal” with but, like, say no to her. Or really, not say “no” but like…

Shit, it was hard to explain.

He’d gotten pretty cozy in her quarters lately, claiming a spot for his pillow and his own side of the bed. She’d cleaned out one of her clothes drawers for him. His hair stuff was sitting on one of the tables by the couch, and on most hair-wash days he’d sit on the floor against her knees as she helped him detangle and treat his curls. They’d put something on the tv and maybe even get halfway over his scalp before he got bored and started poking and tickling her legs and feet. And maybe, just maybe, she’d even finish and get all the gel and creme off her fingers before his hands got bored of just teasing.

So they’d gotten cozy, yeah. But since the Archon’s ship he was afraid he was going overboard. He’d tried to make the joke at first, but he knew he’d said it with gritted teeth and a queasy stomach. He got sulky when she didn’t bring him planetside. Tried to do work onboard the ship and couldn’t focus. He wasn’t remembering it, but she’d said he’d been dreaming again, clutching her. Shaking and muttering.

He didn’t tease as much lately, found himself more concerned than anything, foisting those Lexi-esque questions on her himself. Handling her with kid gloves, reverting back to those days when he still called her “Pathfinder.”

No wonder she needed a break.

“You just gonna hang around Keema’s?” Mira said.

Leaning against the wall near the desk Liam sat at, Jaal shrugged. His shoulders went rigid and his brow-area lifted in the way that said he was struggling with disdain. He sniffed.

“Most likely.”

“You’re free to stay here.”

“No, I’ll–” Jaal inhaled, the perfect picture of benevolent tolerance. “I will go.”

Liam coughed to cover up a chuckle.

“So, Kralla’s Song? You picking me up, or am I coming by yours?” he said.

That knit in her brow relaxed, and a smile flitted over her face. His chest thumped.

“We’ll play it by ear,” she told him. “Make sure you come thirsty because I’m not letting you get away with any one and done crap.”

He smiled. “Whatever you want.”

She paused at that, refocusing on him. Her eyes darted away as she cleared her throat. Haha, he’d got her. It was stupid fun, all this going back and forth with the smiles and the hot skin and the shy eyes. Scary and exciting, addictive.

“Make sure you take sidearms,” Jaal warned them.

“Thanks, mum,” Liam said. “Will do.”

-

Not gonna lie; going out into Kadara Port without his armor and the greater part of his arms made him sweat a bit.

He had to watch himself so that he didn’t mutter about how he needed to relax ‘cause no one here would know he used to be a cop. Did his best to look comfortable in civs and with only a pistol on his hip. Things had somewhat settled down since Keema Dohrgun took over the port and made nice with the Initiative, but slap a paint job on a jalopy and you just get a nicer looking jalopy. Liam still didn’t like the den of scorpions. In contrast, Mira seemed much more relaxed out of armor, with good shoes on and a determination to drink.

He couldn’t tell if it was optimism or naivete or what. After Umi threw three whiskeys at them (one she downed right off and the other two they took to a table), he told her so.

She shrugged, stretching into her chair. “I dunno. It’s not much worse or anything than some hole in the wall in a lower ward. What sort of places did you go to in London?”

“Well, the team got around, right? There was this one time in Rio with this place where the dj and the dancers were all up on trapezes. The music: surprisingly awful.”

She laughed and maybe it was a pity laugh, but it still made him feel good.

He grinned and nursed his drink. “The absolute worst, though, was this sulphur mining colony that spent their evening sitting around their warehouse– their sulphur warehouse that smelled of sulphur– passing around a medical-grade container of watered down ryncol.”

“Oh man. Once this place I went to had a Tuchanka night– yeah, I dunno either– and a special on these drinks: ‘Rite of Passage.’ Club soda, simple syrup, bitters, and a drop of ryncol. And mint. You’d be surprised how awful the mint ended up being. Never again, though.”

“The mint or the ryncol?”

“Whaaat? Excuse me, mojitos?”

He laughed. “Oh, please ask Umi for a mojito. Please. And let me record it.”

“No thanks,” she said, grinning and rotating her glass on the table. “I like my intestines not tied in knots from whatever she’d throw at me.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Anyways. When we were home, we always stopped at Lady and Son’s.”

“I’m guessing this was a pub. Super English and all, right?”

“Of course! Only get entrance with a blood test to prove a proper percentage of tea in your veins.”

Their table overlooked the port’s docks, and the Tempest perched amid the deceptively dusty and battered transports and cargo ships, a silvery swan among swine. The sunset– although considerably less wild than before the vault’s activation– flooded the nearby scrubland and crags in pomegranate and neon orange and citrine. Fancy cocktail colors. The air hung heady with the sun’s glare, the residual heat of the day, and the savage scent of whiskey. The bar, already busy as it always seemed to be, was getting crowded.

Liam was telling her about his old haunts and the awkwardness of hanging around the same pubs his old precinct did, and how this one time his HUSTL captain got into a buzzed yelling match with his old sergeant and then the drinking match that followed– she was polishing off the second drink and smiling and hooking his calf with her foot under the table. And maybe it was all the giggling between them or maybe it was the story, but he was feeling lighter in a way he hadn’t realized he’d needed.

Damn, what was he doing? Not here, right now in this moment, because this was great. Really, really good, but not because he’d had any part in it. The mild disaster on Aya. The major disaster with Verand. If nothing else, he had a talent for completely dicking up situations. What in the world was he doing here, with her, having this good of a time?

What a fucking miracle. Seriously.

Mira didn’t have to prod him more than once to get him to leave Kralla’s Song for Tartarus. He wasn’t about to act as squeamish about Kadara as Jaal or anything, but honestly he was about as squeamish about Kadara as Jaal. But, well, like. You know. She had like, eyes and stuff.

Which she had roving over the density of dancers lit by strobe lights in pulsing rhythms, her hands fiddling with a glass. He nudged her thigh with his knee, sidling in and letting his arm rest against hers on the aluminum table top they stood at.

“C’mon,” he said. “Your turn.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, putting down her drink and calling his nudge with her own hip check. Heat raced along his side where they touched. “My friend and I used to do a thing. If someone asked us to dance, they had to do at least one song with the other. Aela was turian, so if the person was interested in either of us, chances were the other wasn’t their type. And they weren’t worth our time if they were too impatient for that.”

He snorted and took a sip from his drink. “I could see that.”

“What?” she said, a slow smile stretching across her face. “What?”

“Just wondering,” he said. “You ever think about what if we met before?”

“Maybe? I guess?”

“Like, I have a feeling you wouldn’t have given me the time of day,” he smiled.

He reached out to sweep a brown lock from her forehead. She tilted her face into his fingers.

“Hmm,” she hummed, like she was actually thinking. “And I have a feeling you’re digging for something.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that what’s happening?”

“Yeah, pretty sure,” she told him, that short nose and crazy perfect smile washed blue by sudden strobes. “I’m feeling generous, though–”

“I do like when you’re feeling generous.”

She flushed and dug her knuckles into his appendix area, the bite of the retaliation somewhat diminished by her fingers catching and lingering in his waistband loops.

“Maybe, just maybe, if we met before I would have given you a free pass past Aela.”

He laughed. “Didn’t realize that was an option.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Sometimes, huh?”

She laughed, spiking his heart rate in the best way possible. And her fingers were still holding his belt loop, his hips getting tugged with every little movement. What was it about viscous and dark whiskey in the shadows of a club’s corner table with heavy music buffeting and drowning them– what was it about all that that made him sort of light and bodiless and mesmerized by all these little things. He was suddenly made of gauze with his head gone all swimmy, floating along a sea of small touches and words.

She looked up at him for a moment. Her smile shifted and her hand moved up to the small of his back as she leaned against him.

“Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Are you okay?”

Then he realized he hadn’t remembered the sight and sound of her hitting the deck of the Archon’s ship once since they’d left the Tempest. He swallowed. Was this a distraction for him? He didn’t think it was all him, but judging from the look in her face and the warmth between them it was enough of him to catch in his throat.

“I think,” he said, reaching out to boop her nose. “We came out here for you to get hammered. And you haven’t goosed me even once. No way we can call this a success yet.”

She laughed, and tossed back her current drink. She nudged him again.

“Okay, okay. I’m gonna need a couple more of these, sweetcheeks.”

“Holy shit. Sweetcheeks? Maybe I need to cut you off.”

“Nope.”

Several whiskeys and beers later, Mira completely lost any smidgen of ability to remain vertical. Liam called the outing a success, having not been mugged or anything once and her not forcing him to inflict the horribleness of his dancing on Kadara. He closed out their tab, hoisted a giggly and limb-flinging pathfinder on his back, and slogged out of Tartarus with Mira yelling into the void of over-bass’ed music, something about “peace” and “bitches.”

He ignored the reek and druggies of the slums in favor of the pleasant fuzz in his head and the feel of Mira’s weight on his back, her arms clutching his shoulders. Trotting around filthy puddles, he did his best not to jostle her too much. And not wipe out cartoon-style in oily mud; he wasn’t as far gone as her, but he’d been throwing them back, too.

“Hey, could you hold that!” Liam called as they got to the elevator with someone entering ahead of them.

The slightly rust-stained and bowed-in elevator doors whined as they remained open and they jogged in.

Liam exhaled, turning. “Thanks, man– oh. Vidal.”

“Hello, Kosta,” Reyes Vidal said without batting an eye. “Pathfinder.”

The smuggler slash Charlatan slash whatever looked immaculate and thoroughly sober, eyeing them with mild amusement as he pressed the elevator’s up button. The tiny steel can of a room was grated and smelled horribly of mystery dreadfullness, and it had a bit of an alarming vibration when it moved. Liam felt Mira shifting by his ear.

“Oh,” she said. “You.”

Reyes’s brow rose. Liam’s, too. She was usually so polite. Even to sketchy liar mcliarson sketch-sketchingtons like Vidal.

“You two seem to have had an adorable night,” Vidal chuckled.

“How would you know?” Mira said.

“This?” he said, gesturing up and down at them. “Very picture of adorable.”

Mira shifted again, making Liam grapple a bit with her legs. “Well, of cooourse. Ye-eaah.”

Liam snorted. She wiggled, the press of her weight nearly distracting him from suppressing his chuckles.

“What?” she demanded. Except she was hammered and not watching her voice like she normally did, her vowels undulating and petulant.

“You,” he laughed.

“What me?”

“You’re either the happiest or the whiniest drunk ever. You don’t ever have an inbetween.”

“That’s not true.”

(Except it was like: that’s not truuuUUuuue.)

“It is too!” Liam said. “You know what it is? You sound like one of those girls at bars that travelled in like, tiger packs and were super intimidating.”

“I don’t think tigers came in packs,” Vidal said.

They ignored him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mira stated, over-annunciating carefully.

Liam laughed again. “It’s true, isn’t it? You were one of those intimidating, bar-hopping, badass, like, bad girls.”

She was quiet for a long moment. Her warm alcohol-laden breath tickled the hairs on the nape of his neck. He got sort-of hyper aware of the hot patch where she clung to him, and the way the side of her face grazed his neck.

“So what are you gonna do,” she said, low and pretty clearly. “Take me upstairs and show me how to behave?”

Liam froze.

“O-kay!” he burst out, his voice breaking and pitching like it hadn’t in years. “Yep. You win. You, uh, you– you definitely win that one.”

He sounded like a salarian on helium. Does helium work the same way for them? Nevermind. Not important.

Vidal was mashing the elevator button rapidly. “Is this broken? Why is it not moving faster?”

Liam shifted, grappling with Mira’s legs. He shifted again, trying to simultaneously get a better grip on his turtle shell slash pathfinder and shuffle awkwardly up against the grated wall.

“Liam– what are you–” she started.

She squawked when he suddenly tilted forward, her tilting with him. He leaned against the railing and fumbled his hold on her.

“Liam–”

“I, uh,” he said. “Yeah, so I’m definitely popping a boner.”

Vidal’s button mashing sped up furiously. “This damn thing is broken. All the taxes I pay, and the damn elevator’s broken.”

“Liam.”

“What?  You-- You said the thing and just, y’know--”

“Wait,” Mira said. She sort of uprighted herself suddenly from the downward stoop Liam had them in. “Should I–”

Liam weirdly skipped. “No, don’t– The center of mass!”

She squawked again as she plummeted from Liam’s hands, and the rickety tin can elevator groaned as she thumped against the floor and wall.

“Awh, fuck!”

“Holy shit, Mira, are you okay?”

“No!” she said. She stared, eyes wide with horror, up at him in tangle of her own limbs, awkwardly wedged up in the corner with her hands at the back of her head. “No, I am not okay!”

“Oh god, holy shit, I am so sorry–”

“My head. My back. My ass!”

Wincing, she sort of bellowed and aargh’d as she scrabbled upright. Liam crouched with awkward hover-hands hover-handing around her.

“I’m really, really sorry–”

The elevator slung their stomachs as it finally halted, the doors screeching open. Vidal pretty much sprinted out the door.

“Well, that was an experience, Kosta, Pathfinder,” he said with a hasty wave. “Have some sort of an evening, farewell!”

After a generous helping of fussing and complaining, SAM coolly reassured them that Mira would have some bruises from the fall, but nothing serious. No need to tempt Lexi’s wrath by waking her with their drunk asses. Mira finally got tired of feeling pitiful on the floor of the Kadaran slums elevator, and Liam finally stopped apologizing for his very existence, so they were able to hobble together back on board the Tempest. She decided to quit in the storage bay, dropping onto a crate and cradling her head for a weirdly long moment. He managed to shuffle her into the storage room and onto the couch.

She stretched out on the sofa, grumbling quietly to herself as Liam carefully squeezed underneath her, letting her head rest across his lap. He exhaled and sank into the cushions for a moment. He closed his burning eyes against the dim shadows of the silent ship. Then, with his own quiet grumbles, he fumbled at the crate used as a side table for asprin and water, plying both himself and a sleepy Mira with them.

“Kosta,” SAM intoned.

He scrunched his nose, setting aside the asprin. “Yeah?”

“Ryder has an incoming call from the Hyperion. Her brother. Should I reject it?”

Liam exhaled. “No, nope. I can take it.”

Weeks earlier, when she said her brother was her best friend, she wasn’t kidding.

She didn’t quite take up all of the QE comm system’s processors, all day, every day– but it was a near thing. She spent a lot of time at the ops table, a connection to the Hyperion med bay running for hours as she fiddled with AVP or looked over reports from APEX. Forta making comments. Mostly unhelpful but generally funny. Generally.

“Hey, Forta,” Liam said.

“Hey!” Forta said, smiling from the storage room’s tv screen. “Liam! Annnd, Mira– Oh. Am I interrupting? I can–”

“No, nono,” Liam interrupted. “No, she’s drunk. We’re on Kadara right now.”

“Oh, good. ‘Cause I was wondering why you’d answer a call– I mean, I like you Liam, but, like, total judgment–”

“Good to know, Forta,” Liam said. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much. I was just bored. Look, I’ve mistimed this– it’s morning here, and you look kinda pooped, so I’ll just–”

He actually didn’t feel all that tired anymore, with the call clearing some of the fog in his head. He kept Forta on the line, chatting for a while. Conversations with the Ryder brother usually involved a good portion of complaining about physical therapy and feeling like a limp noodle twenty-four seven. Then the surprisingly mild passive-aggressive comments about how jealous he was about the total four bars in Heleus he hadn’t been to (Carlyle had already had him barred [pun! yay!] from the Vortex before he’d even woke up).

While they talked, they turned on a video game. Also an excellent use of the QE comms. It was a dusty low-res remake of an already terrible early Blasto game, but their shared rage at the unfairness of the wonky controls and map design was made hilarious by the way they had to fury-whisper when Mira mumbled at them when they got loud.

Liam did his best to use his controller up at chest height, avoiding jostling her on his lap.

“Aaargh,” Forta fury-whispered after losing all his lives spontaneously for the sixth time. “Dammit damn, dammit–”

“I’m not doing that,” Liam fury-whispered-laughed. “Blasto’s moving, but my controller’s not responding. It’s a ghost, this game is haunted.”

“I know, it’s great!”

“Now he’s just doing tentacle donuts. Oh god, I’d pay good credits to see a real hanar do that.”

They giggled together for a good while, letting the game run and watching Blasto’s mysterious shenanigans. Until the night caught up with Liam, and he started popping his jaw with yawns.

“Think I’m tapping out, man,” Liam said.

“Okay,” Forta said, his voice only vaguely tinny over the room’s speakers. “Sweet dreams!”

“Happy physical training!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Forta said. He paused, keeping the connection live. “Uh. Actually, uhm. Could we talk some more?”

“Sure?” Liam said, carefully stretching out to drop his controller on the crate beside the couch. Mira mumbled, so he smoothed a hand over her hair. “What’s up?”

“Uuuh, sooo,” Forta said, reminding Liam distinctly of his sister. “I guess, firstly, thanks for letting me complain all the time. And, uh. I gotta admit something. When we left the Milky Way, I knew, y’know, that Mira had some reservations about all this.”

Liam kept quiet, still brushing over her hair with his fingers. ‘All this’ was a mild phrasing for, you know, all this.

“I dunno,” Forta continued. “I mean, I feel bad. I knew about it, and I have to admit I didn’t do all that much to fix it. I was more worked up about all the adventure and whatever in Andromeda. I’m scared I kind of steamrolled her. Ironic, really, seeing as how it all ended up.”

He paused over the comm link, a shrug in his voice.

“I guess I feel bad about not feeling worse about it back then. And then–” Forta stopped, letting the silence and hesitation into his voice. They’d left the game going with Blasto still ramming himself mindlessly into walls. Neither of them went to turn it off and relink the vid transmission.

Forta continued. “And then Dad died. I couldn’t be there for her. I hate– I hate thinking she was alone out there, forced to take on all of Dad’s shit. I know she puts on a face for it, doesn’t let on. But I know her. I know none of this could have been easy. She’s not the type to take on all that. She didn’t even want to be here. Not really. And then Dad–”

He was getting a thickness in his voice, in the unsteady cadence of his uncertain words. Poor Forta. Liam knew he felt helpless and useless back on the Nexus. That he wanted all the responsibility and hard work. Even though he had enough on his plate, both emotionally and physically. And yet he was still worrying about his sister. Jeez, the Ryder twins. They were both so… amazing. Liam felt his own throat get all thick and scratchy.

“But like,” Forta said tightly. “I can tell, you know, since I woke up and she’s known you– I can tell she’s different. Like, before I just can’t imagine her getting called something like ‘Pathfinder’ and it fitting so well. She’s more confident, and, just, like–”

He choked and snuffled, very clearly beginning to cry. Liam brought a hand to his trembling lips and burning eyes.

“Oh, man,” Liam gasped. “Man, you can’t– You don’t how lucky I am–”

“No, no, man,” Forta whuffed. “I totally can tell. You’ve been good for her. Thank you for being so supportive–”

“Forta, no, really. I– I’m the one that really needed her support. I mean, you have no idea how much of a nut I’ve been, and she just–” His chest clenched sharply. “Shit, I just love her so much–”

“Oh, man, Liam– you– you…”

The room filled with the wet sniffling and pitiful exclamations of the pair of them. Lots of sobbed ‘Man, you’re the best’ and ‘No, you’re the best’ and such, going back and forth as the pixel-y figure of Blasto jerked about in a vaguely unsettling manner. After a while of this, they calmed down to tearful hiccups.

“By the way,” Forta sniffed. “You gotta come see me soon. I need a haircut, and I know you were doing it for me while I was in the coma. It was, like, perfect when I woke up, and now Mira leaves it too long–”

This set off Forta again, his hiccups going sob-y again. And subsequently Liam got started again, too.

“She wasn’t supposed to tell you that!”

He was so distracted with all the feelings that he nearly jumped out his skin when Mira jerked in his lap, a flailing arm striking up at his chest.

“Liam,” she groaned, eyed clenched. “Go back to sleep. Shit.”

She tossed about for a second before settling back down with her arms encircling his waist and squeezing tightly. Her face dug into his side, her breath warm over his shirt.  Fondness swept over him as he sat there, a little shuddery from post-crying hiccups.

Forta managed a good-bye, and the comm link went dark, Blasto’s inanity mercifully ended. Liam sat for a long time in the dark storage room, intruded upon only by the perpetual ambient lighting of cargo slipping through the door gaps and past the small window’s coverings. Tears drying on his cheeks, he caressed her hair with his heart thumping overloud and his chest tender with an abundance of warmth.