#i appreciate the addition of the cat purse

[themakeupbrush]

Chloe Fineman at the 2023 Met Gala

[spooky-holtz]

I Put a Spell on You

Melissa Schemmenti x fem!reader

Genre: fluff (crack if you squint)

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This is the first part in a little series that explores the mug from 'Delicate'. I really wanted to share some little ideas I had about the images that would be on it so stay tuned for some more parts bc I'm already writing them :)

Feedback is very much appreciated!

When the topic of Halloween costumes came up in conversation in the teachers’ lounge during a crisp morning at the beginning of October, you couldn’t help but join in with tales of your own previous looks. The good, the bad, and the ugly are all shared amongst the group when Jacob brings up his outfit from the year prior; one half of a matching Mario and Luigi costume with Zac.  

“You know, I’ve never actually done a couples costume,” you say to nobody in particular, thinking out loud as you stir sugar into your coffee in an effort to make it a little less bland. The conversation stops immediately, and every head turns to look at where you lean with your back against the counter, cradling your steaming mug.  

“Wait, what?!” Janine exclaims, her wide eyes only adding to her outrage. “Never? In your entire life?” 

“I guess, yeah,” you shrug, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. If you had known that every pair of eyes would be focused on your quickly reddening cheeks, you would never have opened your mouth. “I’ve just never been with anyone who was interested in that sort of stuff.”  

The silence in the room is tense. The fact that this group is so shocked at your little revelation is worrying to say the least but at least it shows they care, albeit about the wrong things.  

“Have you at least done a group costume with your friends?” Asks Jacob, his expression of concern and disbelief matching Janine’s comically wide eyes. You pause for a moment, looking up at a stain on the ceiling in a bid to avoid all eye contact as you recall various high school and college parties. Not once can you remember organizing a group costume.  

“Uhhh, nope. I’ve never done it,” you say, feeling brave enough to look back down and at the table directly in front of you. Barbara has turned in her seat to join the conversation, watching the two sides of the room like a tennis match. She’s clearly not as bothered as the rest of the room but happy to be involved, nonetheless. Your gaze shifts to Melissa who is looking over the rim of her cat-eye glasses at you, eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed slightly in thought. The intensity of her stare makes you feel more uneasy than the rest of the room combined. You shuffle your feet and pull your eyes away from hers when Janine chirps up again.  

“I actually can’t believe it. I thought you would have been really into all that.” 

“Who says I’m not,” you shoot back. “I just didn’t have anybody that was willing to make themselves look like an idiot with me.”  

All through college you would have killed to enter a party, no matter how shitty the frat house venue was, with the Barbie to your Ken or the Buzz to your Woody on your arm. The memories of entering parties with your friends in ‘sexy cat’ costumes, trailing at the back dressed in a bright white Padme Amidala getup makes you chuckle.  

“Actually, the parties kinda remind me of that scene from Mean Girls, you know?” Most of the group chuckles along and nods in recognition, with only Barbara looking slightly confused. “I guess it was just never meant to be.”  

You push yourself off the counter and move toward the closest table. Pulling a chair out next to Barbara, you can’t help but feel a certain redhead’s gaze boring into the side of your head.  

“I say we change that,” she remarks, her first addition to the entire discussion. “I’ve already got my costume, and it’s pretty hot if I do say so myself, but we can easily make it a couples thing for ya.”  

Barb turns to you, shockingly overjoyed at the idea. Considering she didn’t get involved with Halloween, her enthusiasm at the prospect is unmatched.  

“Now wouldn’t that be lovely?” She gasps, looking between the two of you with an almost knowing glint in her eye. You think for a moment, looking over to meet green eyes and seeing them scrunched slightly as she smirks back at you, knowing that having Barbara on her side ultimately means you lose.  

“That’s really nice of you Mel, but we’re not a couple. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable with whatever talk will happen from certain people,” you almost whisper, trying to keep prying eyes of your co-workers that crane their necks to look over her shoulder from hearing.  One sharp look over her shoulder has them quickly backing down, instantly focusing their attention on the suddenly interesting paperwork that sits in front of each of them. Satisfied, Melissa continues.

“Hun, you really think that bothers me?” She says with a raised eyebrow, leaning forward onto the table, the grading she was doing completely forgotten about. “Please, I’ve had much worse said about me. Besides, having you by my side will only make my costume look better.”  

She punctuates her last statement with another wink and you feel your cheeks heat again, turning a violent shade of red.  

In the last year you’ve spent at Abbott you’ve grown to learn a lot about Melissa’s ‘persuasive’ personality and admittedly had fallen head over heels for her. Who wouldn’t? You’re pretty sure Barbara has caught on to your lovesick puppy act, thankfully leaving the topic alone in conversation. Instead, you get knowing glances from the older woman anytime she catches you and Melissa giggling like school children over a joke in the hallways, or when the redhead makes your coffee just how you like it in the mornings, leaving the steaming brew waiting in front of your seat for your arrival.  

You mull her proposition over, staring into your cooling mug of coffee that sits between your hands on the table. She leans back in her chair, arms folded, and eyebrow raised again as she stares you down. She knows she’s won.  

“Okay, why not?” You sigh, looking up again to meet her gaze. She grins and claps, the laugh lines around her eyes accentuating the wideness of her smile. If you had known agreeing would have made her this happy, there would have been absolutely no hesitation. Seeing her pearly white smile is the highlight of most days for you, the sight instantly improving any bad days you may have. This is no exception.  

In hindsight you probably should have discussed the details of your costume before blindly agreeing to Melissa’s proposal, but there’s no way you could ever turn her down. This idea doesn’t come to you until the morning of Halloween however, as you stand in the hallway outside your classroom trying to psych yourself up for a day pretending to be Melissa Schemmenti’s other half.  

“Mel, I look like an idiot,” you grumble. “How do you get to dress like that, and I’ve ended up looking like Elmo and Kermit the Frog had an illegitimate child?”  

“No no no, you look great, hun,” she reassures you. The way her lips are slightly pursed in a desperate bid to bite back the giggle that’s threatening to escape says otherwise.  

You, on the other hand, are less than impressed at her terrible poker face. Of all the times for her to lose her hard exterior, it had to be now. As much as you want to be mad at her for omitting the extremely-green-lycra part of your Vision to her Wanda costume, her visible excitement and rosy cheeks immediately put a stop to any negativity.  

“I’m serious,” she continues, “besides you don’t look anywhere near as bad as Janine right now. That girl is wearing whole-ass beard.”  

You raise your eyebrows as if to say ‘really?’, not quite believing her frantic excuses.  

“Don’t give me that look. It looks as if she’s rolled around on the floor of a barber shop.”  

You huff through your nose, arms crossing over your chest. You can’t help but look her up and down as she tries her best to reassure you that this look was the best decision for today. There’s no denying that she looks incredible in her Scarlet Witch getup, the tight outfit accentuating her irresistible curves and stunning figure. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her in such a form fitting piece and you really hope this isn’t the last time. You’re so obviously checking her out, but you hope your furrowed brow makes it look as though you’re just deep in frustrated thought.  

Meanwhile, you’re clad in bright green lycra and sickly yellow basketball shorts, all topped off with a matching cape and some alarmingly bright red face-paint. Your hair is tucked inside the hood of the outfit, and you desperately hope that this aids you in going unnoticed and unrecognised, though deep down you know that the assaulting colours will do little to disguise you and give you away as soon as the day begins. There is absolutely no hope of camouflaging in the full halls of Abbott when you look like a walking Crayola pack.  

As you begin to retreat into yourself, the annoyance quickly turning into embarrassment at the situation, Melissa reaches out to touch your arm that is still crossed over your torso.  

“Hey, I’m telling you we look incredible right now. I can guarantee you nobody else will have made this amount of effort with their costume,” you know she’s trying her best to reassure you but you’re past the point of no return. You’re one mean sunburn joke away from taking a dish sponge to your face and changing into something a lot less… weird.  

As you open your mouth to dismiss Melissa’s words, she silences you by reaching out her other hand to flatten the tie of your cape that sits around your neck. Her gloved hand feels impossibly warm through the fabric and you’re sure she’s moved closer to you, the toes of your bright white sneakers almost touching those of her crimson heels. She looks up through her eyelashes at you once she’s satisfied with her work, her hand staying in place and flattening against your sternum. This is the only time you’ll be glad for the paint slathered across your delicate features because you’re sure you’ve turned the exact same shade of red underneath.  

Melissa’s proximity to you is intoxicating. You can almost see every faint freckle that is covered by her makeup, her winged eyeliner impossibly sharp even this close. You’re trapped in this position, but you have no desire to move, desperately hoping she’ll push you back the few steps to trap you against the cold brick wall. You’re positive you’re imagining her eyes flickering from your own down to your scarlet lips, but the sight can’t help but make you imagine what she would look like with her own red lipstick smudged past the edges of her full, inviting lips.  

The clicking of heels against the tiled floor snaps you out of the moment and she jumps back, putting a good foot of space between you as you both try to recollect yourselves. Ava rounds the corner adorned in a flashy silver getup, her cape billowing behind her as she struts toward you. Her eyes squint when she sees the two of you and her mouth drops slightly as she realises just who is stood next to the Scarlet Witch.  

“Wandavision, wuh-wandavision,” she sings as she nears you. “Goddamn girl, you look less like Vision and more like ‘blind’”  

“Ava,” you groan over her cackle, “I can already feel my students ripping into me for the next 7 hours, i don’t need you getting involved as well.”  

“All I’m saying is you look like Mr. Clean had a bad accident with some ketchup,” another cackle follows as she carries on her way down the hallway, not even giving you chance to process the insult as the sound of her walking away grows faint. You turn slowly to Melissa, not wanting to see her expression of pity. When your eyes meet, all you can see is an impossible softness that rarely comes out in the redhead.  

“I genuinely think you look incredible right now, hun,” she says, her hand reaching out to touch your farm once again. Her thumb begins to rub where it lays, the friction burning an abnormal amount through the layers of fabric that separate your skin. You scoff at her statement, not quite believing that in her world the sunburnt equivalent of Howie Mandel is ‘incredible’. Before you can say a word, she continues. “Nobody has ever been willing to do this for me. You dropped everything to join in and I absolutely love you for it.” Her grin widens as she sees your walls visibly come down at her words, knowing she’s got under your skin and won yet again.  

You can’t help but lose yourself in her eyes at her confession, noticing the smile lines that surround them deepening with her increasing happiness. You would give anything to see those lines deepen like this every single day, especially if it means that you were the cause of it and her good mood.  

A gasp from behind you pulls you away from losing yourself too deeply, both of you snapping your heads to look at the interruption. In front of you stands none other than Barabara Howard dressed as... a bumble bee? Almost as if sensing your confusion at the letters attached to her torso, she jumps in with, “I’m a spelling bee, before you can ask,” you raise your eyebrows and let out a small 'ohhh' before she continues. “And I have no need to ask who you two are, you little marvel cuties! You both look absolutely incredible!” 

You don’t miss the way that Melissa squeezes your arm slightly from where it still sits, resting against your bicep, saying a silent ‘I told you so’.  

“You have to let me take a picture of you so I can show Gerald before the students get here,” she pleads. You’re about to decline the request until you look down to where Melissa stands next to you, only to see her grin impossibly wider than before, practically bouncing with excitement. The sight makes your heart melt in your chest and demolishes any notion of hesitance you had about this costume. Her happiness and enthusiasm are reason enough for all this to be worth it, even if your face will be stained by the bright red makeup for days to come.  

“Alright then, let’s do this,” you sigh, moving away slightly to get into position while Barb pulls her phone out of her own costume, lifting it up to prepare for the barrage of images she is about to assault you with.  

You both stand facing the camera, Melissa with her hands reaching out, almost as if she’s casting a spell. You take the opposite  approach, widening your stance and placing your hands on your hips. Your head is lifted, standing tall and proud to the side of the redhead as you both pose.  

You hear the camera shutter closing each time Barb jabs at her screen with her forefinger, Melissa changing poses slightly with every noise. You can’t help but grin yourself as you look down at her, her excitement for the holiday no doubt going above and beyond that of the literal children you teach.  

Her head turns toward you as the photoshoot continues, catching your loving gaze toward her. She softens her own gaze and smiles back at you as the shutter goes off one last time and you hear a “alright, I think that should be enough pictures” from the eldest woman of your group. The statement causes you to tear your eyes away from Melissa’s and clear your throat, the both of you forgetting the company you had for a brief moment.  

“Uh, yeah, I think so too,” you stutter, caught off guard by the way the irresistible redhead matched your captivated expression. “I think I’m gonna shoot off to get ready for the day – that classroom won’t tidy itself.” Your eyes flit between the two older women as you speak, both of them nodding along and agreeing to do the same with the last few free minutes of the morning before madness inevitably ensues.  

“I’ll see you at recess later hun,’ Mel calls as you turn and wave, making your way down the hallway toward your classroom. “Have a great day!” You can’t help but grin again, feeling as though it hasn’t fallen off your face for the last ten minutes that you’ve spent in the redhead’s company. Your step undeniably has a little more pep than it did earlier, that’s for sure.  

[rom-e-o]

Liable to Fall - Chapter 2 (Scrooge/OC) (Post-Canon)

Chapter 2 is here! Let the romantic tension and ghost banter continue!

Scrooge and Constance set about the awkward journey of relearning how to interact as husband and wife while his memories remain lost.

Read now on AO3

In an instant, the house had turned from an orchestra of scorched cats into a brick and catacomb of uncomfortable silence. Even the ghostly wails of the wind outside proved no distraction.

Magda and Errol tended to Ebenezer, asking question after question to the befuddled man, trying to get a gauge of where holes in his memory had been ripped. Meanwhile, the attending physician had opted to pull Constance aside to speak with her more privately.

“Temporary amnesia is quite common in cases of head trauma,” he said. The man’s hand found purchase on Constance’s shoulder, his thumb working the protrusion of her collarbone with repetitive swipes. “Why, I venture he’ll be back to his normal self before you can say ‘lickety-split’!”

“What’s the longest you’ve ever seen it last?” Constance asked, her hands grasping at her peignoir to nervously hug it tightly about her shoulders and stomach. Something about the swaddling of fabric, even with its lightness, provided a small bit of comfort. It also masked the nervous jitter of her hands.

His smile faltered for a moment. “Well, while it is extremely unlikely in this case to see prolonged symptoms, I’ve seen some cases last a few days, and on much rarer occasions, they can span weeks.”

“But … it’s always temporary?”

“For this level of trauma, yes, that period is a typical diagnosis. The only exception would be…”

“Exception?” Her voice cracked loud enough that Magda glanced over at her in concern, but this raised flag of concern was not noticed.

“Well, the exception would be – and this is a slim chance, I’ll remind you – if there is additional trauma to the brain that isn’t being indicated by external damage to the skin,” he offered, a nervous tic highlighting traces of his Polish accent. “That could complicate matters.”

“Oh.”

“But that is very unlikely!” he said again, tapping the tip of her pert nose to calm her. “The fact that he’s awake and lucid is proof of that.”

She hummed, slightly assuaged. Her lips pursed into a semi-fine line and her eyes bore holes into the buttery walnut floors, as if she was trying to manifest a more desirable answer to slip between the floorboards.

“However, I do ask that you keep an eye on him,” the physician added, glancing over his shoulder at Ebenezer, who was currently seated in one of the more cushioned visitors’ chairs that rested before his work desk. “Should any other symptoms arise, you’ll want to send for me promptly. If his forgetfulness continues, or if he experienced numbness, immediate medical attention will be necessary.”

The nervous tremble spread to her knees. Suddenly, her craving for her pain medication, which she had mostly been able to ween off since coming to London, began to flare. A telltale tightness pulled at the skin of her face, while her chest felt as if it was ballooning.

“I have a bell in my office and home with a sign proclaiming my residency, and encourage any of my clients to give it a ring if peril arises. You are no exception to that, loved one.”

With a sobering swallow, she steadied herself with a light sway. Her eyes fell shut as her chin rested upon the slope of her chest.

Concerned by her reaction, the doctor gave her shoulder a firmer grasp, in the same way one might try to awaken someone out of a deep slumber.

“I’m fine,” Constance said, offering the physician a crooked grin, “Truly, I’m fine. J-Just a bit in shock.”

“A perfectly normal reaction, given present circumstances.”

With another deep, lung-sealing breath, she felt herself touch Earth again.

“Thank you, Dr. Adamczyk,” she muttered. A hand drifted to her shoulder to take his calloused one in hers, cradling it in her hands. “I appreciate you very much for tending to us at such an unusual time of the day.”

The older man beamed, his smile lines perfectly chiseled to cradle his wide grin. “Oh, ‘tis my job, love. Pay it no mind.”

Constance thanked him and went to pay him for his services. The kind doctor attempted to talk him down from the ludicrous sum she offered, but as far as she was concerned, it was more than worth it. After all, he’d come running to help her husband, and has consoled her and even offered to revisit and tend to him in the future outside of normal shift hours. No bill was too large to pay back that act of kindness.

While she made sure he was compensated and made sure he had a carriage to help get him home, Magda was before Ebenezer, eyes boring into him as if he was a suspect and she was the interrogator.

“What is the last thing you remember, dear?” she asked, her fingers tapping his shoulder vigorously, as if she could drum up those missing memories herself. “Spare no details. If you remember anything, please speak it into the universe for us.”

“Magda, I’ve never seen you so frazzled,” Ebenezer teased lightly, hands covering hers to push them off him and gently cradle them. “I think you’re even more wound up than the time you first came here and saw that I did have pepper in my kitchen.”

“Oh, I haven’t pardoned you for that sin, dear,” she replied, her smile wry, “But please, this is not joking matter.”

A silver brow lofted. “Is it…regarding …”

His eyes flickered to the redheaded woman (a beautiful woman, he couldn’t help but notice) escorting the doctor who has aided him earlier out of the house. Second to her appearance, which alone made him blush like a schoolboy, he noticed some … interesting elements about her. First and foremost, her dress. Or, more frankly, her lack thereof – as she was dressed only in a peignoir and matching robe overtop, velveteen and boasting a gold belt fastened at the waist. She wore little to no cosmetics, and her hair was done casually. She looked more like a resident in his home than another visitor.

“You really don’t remember her?” Magda inquired. “At all?”

“I-I’m afraid not, no…” Ebenezer replied. “W-Who is she?”

“Your wife.”

Silence, then a chuckle. A nervous chuckle, accompanied by a concerned furrow of the brows. “That’s … that’s absurd. I’m fifty years old, not some young buck attending balls and galas. I’m not even looking to marry.”

“Well, you weren’t before you met her.”

Another slow blink, as if he was a slowly suffocating fish. He looked over his shoulder to steal one last glance at her before she exited the study completely. He peered at her hands, and sure enough, saw a wedding ring shining brightly on her finger.

The speed at which he looked down his at own hand mirrored that of a panicked songbird hearing the caw of a hawk in the distance. Sure enough, a match gold band glimmered back at him. A shocked laugh tumbled from his lips with the grace of falling river rocks.

“Bloody hell, y-you’re not joking.”

Magda batted him upside the head. “Of course, I’m not, you daft tit!”

While Errol rushed to take his wife’s hand, speaking in flawed but compassionate Hungarian, Ebenezer stared ahead into the middle-distance. His fingertips grazed his reddened cheek as he mulled over the heavy realization that had been loaded upon his still-sore body.

“I’m married?” he mumbled, more so to himself than anyone else, “I-I … I’m married? After Isabel, I…?”

The sound of the study door reopening startled him out of his daze, and he lofted his head to watch the woman from before reenter the room. Not just any woman, he reminded himself. His …wife.

He found himself staring at her, his mind riffling through any memory with ardent desperation. Gods, she looked so kind. So lovely. She didn’t look deserving of having her husband, or any loved one, forget her.

Then, of course, he registered again that she was beautiful. Uncannily beautiful, in all honesty, but he’d never dream of voicing that opinion. She looked out of place in a home belonging to him, some bloke who had wasted decades of his life penny-pinching. Also, her accent … was she American as well? How the hell had they even met?

“I saw the physician out,” the copper-haired woman reported as she came to a stop before them. “He told me ring him if any symptoms worsened, or if any new numbness or pain were to manifest in the coming days. Speaking of which…”

She turned to look at Ebenezer, her gaze tender and soft. Her irises were as blue as oceans from storybooks. Maker, she had freckles too!

“How are you feeling, de—Ebenezer?”

Fuck, his heart practically writhed through his chest. She looked bloody devastated, and he hated that he was the one causing a woman who he obviously loved such torment.

“I-I’m feeling much less dizzy than before,” he said honestly, tipping his head to her. “Much obliged.”

Love. Right. If they had married, then it stood to reason that they loved each other. At least, he knew that he would never marry a woman for any reason other than if he felt an undying devotion to her. The Spirits from that fateful Christmas Eve had warned him aplenty about denying the good intentions in his heart – and in the hearts of others – ever again. He was to be honorable and honest, and he’d embraced that. After so many years of denying himself happiness and joy, he’d found himself again … now, he felt oddly vacant. As if, when he looked at her, something was missing. As if she had something he yearned for, but he couldn’t place exactly what.

She smiled at the chivalrous gesture. There was a definite touch of sadness to her expression. “You’re welcome.”

After another tense moment, Magda was the one to break the metaphorical ice with a student clap of her hands.

“It’s been a long day, and I think we could use a little pick-me-up. I’ll make some pörkölt for supper,” the woman said. “Connie, dear, can you help me with preparing the gray cattle meat? I'll grind the paprika.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” she said, slightly caught off guard by the chance in topic, but not stopping it. It was clear the poor woman was in need of quite a distraction.

Connie? Ah, a nickname. So, her real name would have been…

“Constance?”

The way the woman flashed her gaze to him, it poignancy nearly stunning him to stone. Guilt jabbed at his heart for getting her hopes up, but he had to ask. “T-That’s your name, yes?” 

“Oh.” The disappointment was clear on her face, but she did try to hide it as quickly as possible as to not cause him any guilt. “Y-Yes, you’re correct. T-That’s my name.”

“And…you’re really my wife?”

The questions left his lips before he could stop it. Blazes, he could feel Magda’s gaze boring holes into his body.

“Yes,” Constance answered. Mirroring his gesture from before, she inclined her head to him in formal greeting. “I’m your wife.”

“Constance…Scrooge?”

“Constance DoGoode-Scrooge,” she said, lifting her nightgown and curtseying. “It’s…nice to meet you.”

“Smooth, old boy."

“I cannot bear to hear your insufferable comments right now, Jacob."

As if the scenario alone wasn’t enough to scald his nerves, watching himself blunder every step of way in speaking to her was painful. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t bear to leave her twice in the same day.

“Infinitely more awkward than your first meeting with her,” Marley commented, chains rattling harshly with even the softest of movements. “When she showed up in that butcher shop, hair unwashed and shivering? Panicked as a mouse in a razed field?”

“She’d just survived thirty days in the basement of some horrid boat,” Scrooge snapped.

“Yet, she caught your eye.”

“Of course, she did,” he started, rage simmering down into something more timid. That day … it was crystal clear to him. He remembered stopping in to speak with the owner about getting a treat for Prudence (her favorites were the stuffed bones), and remembering her calm, yet obviously exhausted, voice inquiring about finding work.

The moment he had gazed upon her, he knew he had to help her. There was something ethereally trustworthy in her eyes, and in the way she carried herself with such grace even after looking like she’d crawled through the trenches and gutters. In a way, she’d done exactly that.

Then, to learn she’d also survived the trip without the opium-based pain medication that her ex-husband had all but gotten her addicted to … the paleness of her cheeks and hollowness of her eyes had made even more sense.

Had it tarnished his view of her? Not in the slightest. If anything, he respected her more.

“Well, you always did have a type,” the elder ghost said, bringing a transparent hand up to examine his nails. “Curls. Blue Eyes. Freckles.”

“It wasn’t just that,” he objected, resenting the insinuation that his interest was purely because of her physical attributes (though, they certainly didn’t harm matters). “Jacob. Tell me. You watch over this house, yes?”

“I do.”

“Then you must see,” Scrooge said, “She’s a hard worker! Why, her mind is sharper than some of those old codgers at Lloyds – she could run their numbers into the ground and tally their receipts with her eyes closed.”

“All while being clumsier than a newborn fawn. Or a loose doorknob.”

Ebenezer turned with a clenched fist to clobber his partner but was halted by the sound of Marley’s loud laughter. It caught him off guard, and in one moment, he realized just how much he’d missed the man. Why, they’d spent decades together, and had been friends. Companions through and through.

“I must confess, I’d forgotten what this felt like, old boy…” Marley revealed, the gold obols on his eyes seeming to shine extra bright. “You always were sterling company. Though, I must say, you’re more of a spitfire than you used to be.”

Scrooge frowned, glaring at his partner impatiently. “More of a spitfire to you, you mean.”

“Ah, I suppose that is what I mean,” he laughed. “With me, you were always a bit of a pushover. I supposed you were just more fond of me than others, yes?”

“Well, you did mentor me in many ways,” he mumbled, “Including the habit of holding you in the highest esteem.”

Marley laughed even harder at that, and the tiniest of smirks graced Ebenezer’s face. It was a moment of respite in an otherwise hopeless scenario.

As Marley’s laughter came to a natural end, their attention was called away from conversing with each other as they observed Constance bowing to him again and making her way out of the room.

“I-I’m going to help Magda with the stew meat,” she explained somewhat bashfully as she gripped the study doorknob. “I suppose I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Y-Yes,” Ebenezer said. “I-I’ll be there.”

Smiling gently, she tipped her head to him and slid out. Perhaps it was him imagination, but she moved with an uneasy quickness.

As the door fell shut, Scrooge allowed a tense sigh to leave him.

“Ye, gods, what have I done?” he mumbled to himself, a hand smoothing the deep creases in his forehead as he slinked back to his desk chair. Completely ignorant of the ghosts moving away from the desk to make way for the mortal man, he slinked into the chair and practically collapsed.

For a moment, he laid there, silent and still; simply resting his body and mind from the event that had just transpired. After just a moment to rally himself, he shot upright and left the desk. With long-legged strides, he paced around his desk, scanning the documents that were scattered about, including the paperwork he’d been working on before his fall.

None of the names or accounts on the banknotes looked familiar to him; they must have been new clients.

Another cursory examination revealed a familiar name as a key signature on some of the final documents. He recognized his signature, as well as Bob’s, but above their side-by-side names, there was a smaller name written in loopy, meticulous script:

Constance Albany DoGoode-Scrooge, Bank Clerk & Accounts Specialist

She was his wife … and his clerk?

Thinking fast, the man bent down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. It was the space where he kept records of all his previous employees and coworkers (all two of them). He knew he had Jacob’s files, including all the legal documents from his passing, but he also had documents items such as Bob Cratchit’s initial application, as well as identification documents that were renewed annually. As expected, his file had grown sizably following his promotion.

He ventured that, if he had documents about them, he had to have …

“There!”

Sorted alphabetically in the drawer by her surname, he stumbled across her dossier. He opened it and was immediately greeted with the materials he’d used to apply for her job with. A copy of her diploma from Bradford University in Massachusetts, the results of her bank clerk pre-exams (top marks, of course) as well as other documents. Accreditation, test scores, etcetera.

Also included were her age, her upbringing, her family and personal address, and … the name of a spouse. A New York investor with their hand in many national and international businesses.

She’d been…married before him.

Beyond intrigued, he hauled the file to the top of his desk. Turning to the first document, he started at the top and began to read.

If he couldn’t remember her, then for now, the least he could do was relearn about her.

Tag List: @quill-pen, @crimson-phantom-designs, @thedivinelights, @purgratoriat, @bluestarliight, @alolaamii, @vixx-ari

Thank you all for the support! <3

[booksandwords]

Hottie Scotty and Mr. Porter by R. Cooper

Read time: 1 Days Rating: 4/5 Stars

The Quote: “where are they finding these men?” “I have no idea. Whatever the nosy straight lady version of Grindr is” — Cole and Scott

Hottie Scotty and Mr. Porter is the story of thirty-year-old Scott "Scotty" Yun and forty-two-year-old Henry “Cole” Porter in Montgomery, CA. It is fairly simple and tropey, which leads to some predictability. But it's not about the destination as much as it is the journey. I will say the ending is perfect. Firefighter and EMT Scotty is a human and flawed character. He often sees himself as simply a body, something that those around him don't help with. Because they don't notice how he sees himself or don't realise the issue with it. Scotty uses his good humour and natural charisma to shield his hurt, there is unsurprisingly trauma in play here. His human attitude gives him a slightly flawed narration to a degree. I'm happy we got to meet Angie, Scotty's sister. She is such a positive female character. I just wish we got to see Scotty with his niece and nephew, Cole too because they love him.

Being a small town there aren't many gay men in Montgomery, one of Scotty's previous hook-ups is Cole. Librarian Cole is older than Scotty and quite happy with his life as it is despite the death of his husband, the one who wanted to move to Montgomery in the first place. He is happy with his books, his library, and his baking, the last thing he really wants is a committed lover. Cole is an on-point librarian, the tbr piles, a passion for reading and a fierce defence of the role of libraries in modern society. I appreciate the addition of baking to the mix it just makes him appear so comfortable and contrasts delightfully with his bedroom attitude. He also owns a cat (because we do love a tbh fairly accurate stereotype) and Honey is cute af. She is a freaking mercenary though, smart but a mercenary. Kathy The b***h gets what she deserves, I read book 2 is this series first I liked having the context for what this woman did to warn our wrath. And earn she did, no spoilers as to what she does.

I'm going to add quotes as per usual. But there are so, so many quotes here.

Scott shrugged, more awkwardly this time. “Among other things. Friends. We’re still friends. Although, I wouldn’t say we were, like, lovers or anything. More like roommates with occasional benefits. And if we went out anywhere, I was more of a purse.” “Purse?” Cole’s eyebrow were doing that up and down thing again, interested but unhappy. He had the line between his eyes, too. Scott took his time straightening the strap of his bag where it dug into his elbow. “There to look good on his arm.” He thought of Kathy’s book and the men on the cover, but didn’t turn to glance at it. “Purse,” Cole said again, almost in disbelief. “In my day, we said eye candy.” — I have never heard Purse for this term. Somehow it feels even more derogatory than eye candy or arm candy which is a term I've heard used. This is an example of Scott's comfort with his physical appearance and the impact it has on others but the hurt it has caused him. (Scott, Cole and Kathy)

He blamed Kathy and her friends for this, and so many of his problems. Shortly after that night at the mayor’s house, they had outed him, and while he hadn’t been hiding anything, it still should have been his choice who to tell and when to tell it. — B***h outing is never okay. And like this? Even worse. Feels like it was revenge. Ugh, there are so many reasons to dislike this woman. As is the point.

“Eric wasn’t much of a reader either. Except for airport mysteries.” Cole made a tiny, exasperated noise, then shook his head. “They drove him crazy, but I think he liked to pick them apart, like a reverse puzzle. His work was stressful. Falling into stories took more effort for him. Or maybe he felt enough in his daily life that he didn’t need the catharsis of a good book.” (Cole) & Scott imagined they had fought a little because Cole liked books so much and Eric hadn’t, but a good kind of fight, playful. Something to keep the smile in Cole’s voice at the memory. “Despite what people think of computer nerds, he was very good with feelings—and puzzles.” — These are such are perfect veiled complements. Running or working out is Scott's version of reading, his version of Eric's puzzles. They are Scott's way of processing and relaxing. We all have them they are just all individual. (Cole)

“What should we toast to?” Scott had to ask something, and that was better than everything else he could have said. “It’s been a while since I’ve done shots.” Cole considered his glass, then Scott. “Do we need a reason?” “Oh, yeah.” Scott nodded. “Otherwise you just have a drinking problem.” —(Scott and Cole)

“I’ll see what my wife has to say about that.” Tiny let him lean. “She’d probably be into it. You city folks….” “You sound pretty into it,” — I really wish we'd met Tiny's wife, Rhonda. There are lines in this and in the second book that me really like her. There are also moments that make me think Tiny is really not as straight as he would like people to believe. He sorta feels like at least bi-curious. (Tiny and Scott)

“She does this. I think she knows when I’ll be by.” He stepped over the ditch into Cole’s yard and stared directly at Cole’s stubborn cat. “Honey, you have to come down if you want me to pet you. I’m not going up there.” — Honey. You are a weird cat and I like you. Bacio (Jimmy's dog) was just as cute but in a different situation. (Scott)

Honey and Bacio made me wonder about the contrasting tropes for the books. Cole and Scotty (Hottie Scotty and Mr. Porter) are an opposites attract couple. Javier and Jimmy (For Better or Worse) are grump/sunshine and friends to lovers as is only right with a demi in play. What I will say is that this book is much more overtly sexual though no less heartfelt and longing than its sequel.

I really regret not reading this before I read For Better or Worse which is Javier and Jimmy's story. They do stand alone but Scotty and Cole's story explains why Kathy and the knitting circle are so awful. We meet parts of the Fire Family and see just how far they are willing to go for their own. That scene in the bar is a whole other level of wtf straight people?? Though Scotty was right that was definitely Javi behind him. I kinda wish that moment appeared in For Better or Worse it would have been torture for Jimmy to watch. The frustration, the jealousy, the want and all to Javi's obliviousness. Because in his words in For Better or Worse “I don’t really notice things like this. Everything looks like friendly teasing if you don’t know what sexual tension is. I get confused.”

[batheir]

❝ hmm... no, i don't think so. that's definitely not what impressed me. ❞ a playful smile gracing her features, ❝ i promise, my standards are set very high. nearly unattainable. ❞ helena joked back with him, even if it was true. the bar set so high she's not sure what guy would check all the boxes, or at least most of them. but ... it probably starts with guys who defend complete strangers and don't ask for praise even if she's going to make sure he gets it. ❝ well, it definitely is. ❞ she gingerly corrected, he didn't deserve to get hit in the face just to receive no recognition and someone ought to teach that kid that's what you do when someone does something nice for you is to say thank you. she's glad he's gotten it now, though. ❝ i am. i'm wanting to achieve a veterinary medicine degree and study canine behavior. because i also want to professionally train dogs some day and to do that... it's important to start with how the canine brain works. ❞ she happily informed, loving talking about her future passions and love for animals. she wants to contribute to her father's german shepherd rescue, all those dozens of other misunderstood ace's running around needing trained and just a little bit of extra love so they could live happier lives without living their lives in fear and find good homes since german shepherd's are one of the top breeds always thrown into the dog slammer. ❝ you'll be my exception, i can't let my screaming husky friends down. they're counting on me. ❞ she gently laughs, amusingly shaking her head because while she admires her grandfather's people doctoring... cats, dogs, birds, rabbits, horses and the alike are more her forte.

❝ of course. you don't have to thank me, but i appreciate your gratitude. ❞ a smile curled her glossy lips upwards, giving a firm shake and then letting his hand back go. ❝ why don't they call you that? at least, sometimes? ❞ she curiously wondered, ❝ just asking because it's a really timeless name. like a name a prince in a fairytale story would be named. ❞ very regal, strong and elegant sounding to just be shortened to four letters all the time. a hand immediately flew up, covering her mouth from the quick coming laugh barreling through her throat that turns into a snort at his question if he LOOKED like a barney to her. ❝ no, not that. ❞ she quickly shook her head trying to work the amused smile off her face, handing holding onto the strap of her kitty purse. was it wrong of her to let him guess? probably so, but she didn't want to tell him it was his bruise on his face that reminded her of barney when he was just fretting of how he'd look like going out in public to walgreens. didn't want to risk making him self conscious. his addition of purple tied around his waist she saw once she was waiting by the open door behind her back didn't help either, but that made two of them. since she was also wearing her favorite color purple besides black which made this entire thing even funnier.

“oh?   wait,  did i just impress you?   by almost getting beat up to a pulp?   well,  the bar isn’t set very high these days,  is it?”   feeling more like himself now that there’s no black dots clouding his vision and the world’s finally stopped spinning like a carousel,  alex can easily rekindle his inner spark and bring back the fun side of his personality.   teasing virtual strangers can either go really well or horribly wrong,  but he takes his chance with this girl anyway.   it’s these big,  doe-like eyes,  he thinks to himself,  there’s something charming and inviting about them.   all jokes aside,  it does boost his confidence,  knowing he’s managed to impress her with his chivalrous attitude even if he didn’t necessarily win the fight.   cheeks flushed when she goes a step farther and lectures the poor,  nerdy kid about manners,  a sheepish smile dancing on his lips at the quiet thank you’s that he receives.   he’s anything but used to people making a big deal out of whatever it is that he does,  fussing over him,  and so he lowers his head and waves his hand in a dismissive manner.   “come on,  it’s really no big deal.”   it’s what any decent person should do in this situation.

“a surgeon?   really?   now that’s truly impressive.   i’m sorry you never got to meet him,  though.”   eyes crinkling at the corners as a warm,  sympathetic smile tugs at the corners of his lips,  alex finds himself completely immersed in the story about her grandfather.   it’s fascinating to see how the choices one’s ancestors had made affect the younger generations.   curious hues studying her expression,  taking her in,  and coming to the conclusion that she does look like someone who’s got it all figured out and could be a wonderful veterinarian in the future.   or a doctor.   “is that what you’re here for?   i mean,  are you majoring in biology or zoology or something like that?”   he asks,  stifling a chuckle when she compares him to fur patients.   “maybe it’s your sign to consider becoming a furless creatures’ doctor instead?   at the end of the day,  it all comes down to one question;   would you rather deal with a screaming husky or a brave,  well-behaved patient like myself?”   this time,  he does laugh,  thinking about all these silly videos of screaming huskies that his friend sends him on a daily basis,  and feeling bad for vets who have to treat these dramatic things.

“no,  go on.   you can’t just not tell me.   is it that bad?   phantom of the opera kind of bad?”   he can tell it’s not good by the throbbing sensation alone,  the side of his jaw pulsing,  heat radiating off his cheek.   the bloody tissues that they’ve already disposed of.   well,  at least his teeth are still in his mouth.   “thanks for covering for me.   we’ll stick to the classic oh,  you should see the other guy then.”   an airy laugh escapes him,  he appreciates her efforts to save his pride.   the smile that she graces him with is so sweet that he suddenly feels that almost childish need to do something silly once more just to see it again.   “helena.”   now that’s one beautiful name.   “thanks for saving my life,  helena.”   he takes her small hand into his large one,  his fingers gentle and careful not to squeeze too hard as he shakes it.   “i’m alex.   well,  it says alexander on my birth certificate but no one ever calls me that.”   he doesn’t remember if his mom ever referred to him by his full name,  but if so,  she was the last and only person.   “barney?   do i look like a barney to you?   now that’s a real insult.   better than larry,  but still…”   brows inching closer together in confusion as he picks up his pace,  he doesn’t immediately get the reference,  not realizing how the purple hoodie wrapped around his waist and height could easily make him barney the dinosaur’s twin brother.

[thesoftestirises]

always, forever - one.

♡ pairing: steven x reader ♡ rating : 18+ (smut in part 2) ♡ word count : 6k ♡ warnings : age gap relationship (the characters are both well into adulthood, but it is a ten year difference). this shit rated t for THERAPY! steven’s gonna make you feel good about yourself whether or not you’re ready for it! ooc steven - rewritten to fit the au parameters. ♡ summary : Steven  is a veteran journalist with a thirst to do the right  thing. You’re his insecure cameraperson. The two of you fall in love  slowly, then all at once. ♡ an : reupload, last one kept crashing. this is a two part miniseries.

“Newbie!”

You sighed, setting your pen back in your cup and turning around in your swivel chair. You’d been at this job for at least seven months, but you were still getting called ‘newbie’ by the editor in chief. You briefly wondered if he even knew your name. It wouldn’t surprise you if he didn’t.

Gold Standard Reporting, the organization you worked for, was known to push their employees harder than any other news company. Which was really saying something, because most journalists worked crazy hours. But GSR, being a newer company with fewer employees, had more tasks to do spread out over fewer people. No one had time to really fraternize, especially not the editor in chief, Ken Damiani. But you loved it there anyways. You were constantly surrounded by the best and the brightest, rubbing elbows with people who were working on groundbreaking investigative journalism. You often felt unqualified to even be there. Every day you half expected them to realize their mistake and fire you.

Ken Damiani was hunched forward in his chair when you arrived at his door, playing with a stress ball while speaking to the person across from him. His expression was serious, but there was a spark of excitement in his eyes and a quirk of a smile on his lips. It was the first time you’d ever seen him look pleased.

He turned to you as you entered and gestured for you to sit down. You took a seat next to the stranger, who you quickly realized was Steven Grant of CNN. Your eyes widened in surprise, which he seemed to notice. He smiled politely and reached out for a handshake, which you responded to after an awkward beat. Steven’s cordial smile melted into one of genuine amusement, barely stifling a chuckle at the expression on your face.

“Steven, this is Y/N. She was the most recent addition to the GSR family,” Ken said, gesturing to you while not making eye contact. Steven nodded to you in acknowledgement, studying your face as if he was trying to commit you to his memory. “If it behooves you, she can act as your videographer. Her technical skill is very good.”

You looked between the two men in front of you in confusion. Steven’s videographer? Surely he had a team of those back at CNN. Ones who were way better than you, like ones who had actually graduated with a degree in journalism from a good college. Also, ‘behooves’? Who still talked like that?

“That would be great, if Y/N wouldn’t mind?” Steven asked, turning the question over to you. Had you not been focused on other things, you probably would have taken more time to appreciate how he gave you the space to say no.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just missing some context. I thought he worked at CNN? Is he allowed to do this?” You asked.

“I’ve actually parted ways with CNN,” Steven said, clasping his hands together and bringing them over his knee. “Our goals were no longer in alignment.”

“Really? What was the final straw?” You asked.

Steven pursed his lips, as if he was contemplating whether or not he wanted to answer.

“None of that now, Steven doesn’t have time to be questioned,” Ken said, waving a hand dismissively. “Now, what are you doing next week? Do you have any assignments?”

“Uh, a piece on the new cat cafe craze in Newport-”

“Okay, so nothing important. Listen, all the other videographers are busy, and Steven was just talking to me about a potential debut piece by him for GSR.”

Steven’s idea was to create a series on the growing divide between Americans. He called it ‘Hate thy Neighbor’. He wanted to create a space for people to tell their own stories and hopefully, bridge the gap after understanding one another. You thought the idea was overly ambitious, but if Steven was the one at the helm, you could see it becoming something worthwhile.

He invited you to get tea with him to further discuss the plans, which was surprisingly friendly of a guy who was so much more important than you it was comical. Steven had a Peabody award, for fuck’s sake.

You looked over at him while he casually stirred sugar into his drink. Beyond just being an incredible journalist with integrity, Steven was the most beautiful man to ever be in the news circuit. He was not only a trusted face with the most mesmerizing accent, but one of America’s favorite sex symbols. You were realizing now that the cameras at CNN had never been able to fully capture how blindingly gorgeous he was. His dark curls, his warm brown eyes, the way his button down struggled to conceal the size of his biceps. He was godly.

He raised an eyebrow when he noticed you staring. You immediately felt your face heat up and looked down, suddenly taking an unnatural interest in your own cup of tea. You considered breaking the awkward silence, but you weren’t really sure what to say. He took pity on you, and spoke up instead.

He cleared his throat and took his spoon out of his tea, laying it onto a napkin he had neatly folded on the table. “So, Y/N. Where are you from?”

“Um, Wisconsin, actually,” you said, picking at a loose thread on your cardigan.

“Did you like it there?”

“Not at all,” you said without hesitation.

Steven gave you that patented single eyebrow lift, which you were quickly realizing could get anyone to keep talking. It was probably why he was such a good journalist.

“I just don’t have great memories associated with that place. I’m much happier here. Big city, lots of people.”

“Were you from a small town?”

“I’d say it was more of a suburb. It was called Ives, about thirty minutes north of Madison.”

“Interesting. Do you go back often?”

“Once a year for the holiday season,” you said, crossing your legs underneath the table. “I try to avoid it, with the cost of airfare and all.”

“Not because of the negative memories?”

You blinked at him. “That’s part of the reason why I stay away, but it really is an expensive endeavor to go back. I’m not making a ton of money as a journalist, believe it or not.”

Steven chuckled lightly at that, the laughter lines around his eyes beginning to make an appearance. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?” You asked. “How often do you go home?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” Steven said, sincerity coloring his tone. He rested his arms on the table and leaned in. “My family is always busy. But I do miss them and I enjoy my time at home.”

You thought it was fascinating how he side stepped his family history and made himself sound so normal. The Grant family name was well known, even in America. They were heirs to a massive fortune from early investments into oil and telecommunications. Practically royalty. Steven probably could have gone his whole life without ever working, and yet he went ahead and hid his identity to apply to work as a correspondent for CNN. It took a few months before the cat was let out of the bag, but he had already proven he was there for his skill, not his surname.

“You seem nervous,” he said.

“I am, you’re a big deal,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your still piping hot drink just to avoid staring into his intimidating gaze. You could feel your tastebuds burning and your brain screaming in protest at the pain. How could you, a journalist, be so poor at communicating?

“We’re coworkers now,” he said earnestly. “We’re on the same level. If this all goes well, I suspect we’ll be partners for a while.”

“You haven’t seen my work before,” you said, chuckling self deprecatingly as you moved your mug around in a circle mindlessly, watching the liquid inside swirl. “You might hate it.”

“I have seen your work, actually. When I was doing my original research into GSR, I saw some pieces you’d worked on. I understand videography wasn’t what you joined GSR to do, but you have remarkable style. The way you do cuts in interviews is almost more appropriate for movies. You make any story seem riveting. That’s why I immediately accepted,” Steven said, pausing to check if his tea was still too hot to drink. “I suppose you could call me a fan.”

“What?” You gasped, then winced at your own unexpected outburst. You were supposed to internalize that.

Steven smiled, and reached across the table to place his hand over yours. God, you sure hoped he couldn’t feel how sweaty your palm was from the top of your hand. “I hope that by the end of our trial run that I can teach you to be a little more confident. You’re very talented.”

You tried to search for something appropriate to say after a compliment as heavy as that, but you fell blank. Honestly, you’d never felt so validated in your life, and Steven had known you for a grand total of maybe two hours. “I’m sincerely, really thankful. I hope I’m worthy of the praise.”

“You already are, Y/N. No need to thank me for stating the obvious.”

He removed his hand from yours, but the warmth remained.

“So, as we discussed earlier regarding the project...”

Today was day one of being on the road. Well, it was a trial run close to home, so technically you weren’t going far at all. You even got to go back to your apartment and sleep in your own bed after the day’s work had been done and Steven dropped you off at home. He had suggested that you two carpool once he picked up on the fact that you had a clunker for a vehicle and you were a little terrified to drive it. He had insisted in spite of your protests and scheduled a pickup time. You were too shy to tell him how much you appreciated it.

“Are they really going to do it? Protest in the National Mall?” You asked, flipping through the pages of notes Steven had made on the group you were interviewing.

“You don’t think they’ll go through with it?”

“I don’t think the overwhelmingly liberal residents of D.C. will let them.”

You were still nervous around Steven, but he was shockingly nonjudgmental and you found yourself rapidly warming up to him. At least now you could talk to him without shaking like a leaf the way you did the first time.

“They’ll get yelled at the whole way through the streets. It doesn’t seem very safe,” you said, shrugging.

“Perhaps they believe in their message, however foolish it may seem to us, and they’re willing to risk their safety in order to speak out,” he said, briefly taking his eyes off the road to look at you.

“I can’t understand it,” you said, shaking your head. You turned to face Steven’s side profile, tracing your gaze down the curve of his nose. “You think they’ll take offense? To us?”

“Maybe, maybe not. They did grant us an interview, though, so they can’t be too hostile. I often find that people are much less combative when faced with a camera.”

“I did mean to ask, by the way. Why are you dressed so casually?”

You had dressed as you normally did for interviews, pressed slacks and a blouse. Steven, on the other hand, had opted to go in dark wash jeans and a maroon shirt. He looked devastatingly handsome, like boyfriend material. But he always looked like that to you.

“I wanted to try and level with them as much as possible. Make them feel less like a spectacle,” he explained. “GSR is also very lax with their dress code and I wanted to take advantage of that. I was thinking of dyeing my hair something fun too, what do you think?”

You giggled when he turned to look at you, a bright smile lighting up his face at his own joke. “I think you would look good in pastel pink.”

“Hm, maybe that would be a stretch. Brown?”

You paused and considered it, considered him. Steven was ridiculously handsome, as you often mused to yourself. He had a classically handsome face, like a golden age Hollywood star. He could probably do anything to his appearance and still look like a dream. A few rays of sunlight passed through the window and filtered through his curls as he glanced over to his right to check for cars. The light turned the hair at the top of his head a warm brown, colored with red and orange. He looked over at you as you stared at him, giving you a questioning expression.

“Your hair is perfect as it is.”

He blinked, but quickly recovered. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.”

You cleared your throat and looked out at the road as you thought of things to say to fill the silence.

“Do you have your questions prepared?” You asked.

“No, I never write questions out,” he said as he flipped on his turn signal and switched lanes.

“What?”

“I don’t believe it’s a good method of interviewing. If you prepare questions, you’ll feel obligated to get them all answered. So instead, I just do enough research to hold a conversation and let the person I’m interviewing talk. It’s their story, after all. That’s what this is about, you know? Informing and bringing people together.”

“But what if they lie to you? Or try to take you off from the story that was meant to be told?”

“That’s where my problem with CNN stemmed from. They let people lie and take us off track from the real issues all the time for the sake of ratings. Now? You and I can simply not air the interview at all,” he said simply, glancing quickly at you before focusing back on the road. “Don’t worry, though. These people aren’t politicians, they won’t pull those kinds of tricks on us. And if they do, I believe the two of us can handle it.”

You appreciated that he kept referring to the two of you as “we”, constantly reminding you that this was a partner project to him. It wasn’t just Steven, nor was it Steven and friends. It was Steven and Y/N. You also appreciated the amount of faith he was putting into you, allowing you to make a lot of calls on your own regarding b roll footage. He said he trusted you to convey the story visually, and he was personally more concerned with his own ability to perform to standard.

“We’re almost there. Are you ready?” He asked as the two of you were halted at a stop light.

Your lips curved up and you nodded. “Yes.”

The first story had gone viral.

Steven’s patience during the interviewing process had made one interviewee change their mind mid interview, and the entire thing had been caught on camera. That clip alone was shared over ten thousand times on Twitter and reached 2.6 million views on YouTube in the first two days. The full hour long special had 800,000 hits by the end of the first week. You refreshed it every few hours to see the numbers go up. It was wholly unexpected and even Steven seemed surprised by the success.

The story itself was one that had been well put together, focusing on the people and the build up to the protest, and had some pretty excellent visuals, if you do say so yourself. Steven said it was everything he’d dreamed the first episode would be and more, and he was really excited when GSR greenlit the two of you for a series.

He’d asked you to come get dinner with him as a celebration for, well, everything. You’d tried to decline, but Steven seemed to understand the line between you not wanting to do something and you fearing that you were a burden. He ignored you and made reservations for two at a nice restaurant close to your workplace so that you two could head over directly after work.

The sky was dark gray and rain had been coming down in slow, fat drops. Not quite enough to call for an umbrella, yet Steven was using one anyways. You had run off ahead of him to try and catch as many drops in the palm of your hand as possible, a game you’d picked up during childhood and hadn’t dropped since.

“What are you doing?” He laughed, beckoning you to come back under the safety of his bright red umbrella.

“Having a good time, spoilsport,” you said. “Put that thing down, this is hardly even a drizzle!”

Steven rolled his eyes, but closed the umbrella and stuffed it into his work tote. He quickened his pace and caught up to you. “You seem like you’re in a good mood.”

“I love this kind of weather,” you said, looking up to the sky and wrinkling your nose as you caught a droplet on the tip of it. Steven snorted at the expression on your face as you attempted to look at the raindrop before wiping it off.

“Why’s this your favorite kind of weather?”

“I think the gray highlights other colors. Makes stuff really pop out, like grass or your red umbrella. It’s not torrential enough to be dangerous, but it’s just enough to feed the planets and animals. Plus, it’s still warm out,” you told him. Upon his silence, you glanced over at him and moved a little slower when you noticed he was just watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy that you’re happy,” he said, smiling at you.

You felt your own lips tugging up at his honest admission, and turned your head away to look at the city view in front of you. The lights and the sounds were something that you’d grown used to over time, but sometimes it was nice to stop and stare at the architecture and the people. It was so easy to get caught up in all the negativity of the world, but just looking at the creations of mankind made you feel a little more hopeful. It reminded you that people were capable of amazing amounts of progress. That you, as a species, had made it this far, and there was still more to go.

A man with a guitar was sitting on the ledge of a fountain, doing an acoustic rendition of Fix You by Coldplay. You caught yourself humming along unconsciously, straying away from Steven to drop a five dollar bill in the hat placed by the man’s feet. He nodded at you as he continued singing, not minding the raindrops collecting on the surface of his guitar. Steven walked up behind you as you turned around to see if you’d lost him.

His eyes searched your face before he spoke, as if he was absorbing everything he was seeing. You noticed that he did that a lot. Pausing before he spoke and just observing. The rain was starting to come down a little more rapidly, though not enough to soak through your clothing. Little droplets started collecting on the crown of Steven’s head as he stood with you, the noise of the city fading into the background.

“Didn’t know you were a Coldplay fan.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you said, before you caught yourself and changed your tone. “I mean, we haven’t exactly had the opportunity to talk about stuff outside politics and our job.”

“In that case,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you back in the direction you needed to be going in. “I swear not to bring up politics or our job during dinner. As long as you agree to the terms too.”

You felt your face heat up at his proximity, unwilling to look him the eye as you nodded. Steven didn’t seem to mind your sudden silence, content to walk in the rain with his arm around you.

“Are you going to move your arm?” You asked quietly.

“No, our reservation is in fifteen minutes and I can’t have you running off without me again,” he said, not leaving room for argument. He looked down at you and smiled. “Why? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you blurted, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. “I was just surprised.”

“You walk on eggshells around me still, you know. I just want you to view me on the same level as you. We’re both just people.”

“Well, easy for you to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve had a remarkable, decade-long career as one of the most well known journalists of this century. My senile grandmother could probably pick you out in a crowd,” you said, forgoing mentioning the fact you also thought he was unfairly gorgeous and that made you extremely nervous.

“So?”

“So?! I don’t know, it’s intimidating!”

“Y/N, I really don’t want you to think that I’m better than you because of the opportunities I’ve had. I’m also much older than you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Only by ten years.”

“Ten years is quite a bit of time. Anyways, it’s probably no secret to you what my family does. I was born into wealth, connections, et cetera. I knew journalists and got to learn directly with them. You, on the other hand, probably went through years of schooling and self research. For that, I think you’re just as remarkable,” he said.

“I haven’t done much,” you said, rubbing at your elbow and turning your gaze to the sidewalk.

“On the contrary, you’ve done a lot. Just this last week, for example. You were the one who knew to post that specific clip to twitter and you were the one who edited the story. You single handedly ensured our success, and I refuse to hear otherwise.”

“But-“

“Ah! I won’t have it,” he cut you off, looking at you with a faked sternness. “I’m sure you’ve done much more too. You’re obviously very clever.”

“I don’t know about all that-“

“One more self deprecating word out of you, and I’ll make you pay for dessert. Be warned, this place is very expensive.”

“If it’s so expensive why are we going?” You asked, stopping in your tracks.

“Because it's a celebration and I’m paying?” He said, tilting his head and looking at you like you’d asked the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard.

“You’re what!”

“Y/N, love. If someone asks you to go somewhere, they have to pay. Anything else is impolite. Come on, even if you make me cancel the reservation, they’ll have me pay them $100.”

“What kind of place is this?” You gaped, looking over at Steven as he pulled you forward.

“A place that makes great spaghetti.”

“Am I even dressed appropriately for this place?” You asked, more to yourself than to him. You looked down at the outfit you’d worn to work today: skinny jeans, a plain white blouse, and a saffron colored blazer. It would be a little fancy for most of your regular haunts (IHOP, McDonalds, or Shake Shack), but you wouldn’t stand out too much. At Steven’s expensive restaurant, though? You would probably stick out like a sore thumb.

“You look beautiful as always, don’t worry about it,” Steven said, gently rubbing your shoulder. “Oh, look. This is the restaurant.”

You tried hard not to react to what he said, but your heart rate definitely sped up and you felt a lot warmer. Steven, thankfully, was too busy getting the two of you checked in and seated at the restaurant to notice how you’d malfunctioned at his casual compliment. It was stupid, a throwaway line to make you shut up. But it filled you up with metaphorical butterflies anyways.

When the waiter handed you your menus, Steven finally looked at you and asked if you were okay. You quickly nodded and lied about needing to go wash your hands, hoping he didn’t see right through your ruse. You took a few minutes to calm yourself down in the bathroom before you went back out.

“Welcome back,” Steven said as you slid into the booth. “I ordered you some water. I didn’t know what kind of wine you’d want.”

“I don’t really have a taste for wine. Had a few bad experiences getting wine drunk,” you said, opening up your menu to scan through the options.

“Oh? You’re going to have to tell me that story. Also, I already know what the cheapest thing on this menu is, and if you order it, I’m going to ignore you and order something twice as expensive. So choose wisely.”

“Can you read minds?” You asked, dropping the menu in surprise.

“Your concern about burdening others is a part of you that I have come to understand, yes,” he said, not lifting his gaze from his own menu. “Do you like seafood? I think you’d like their shrimp and lobster spaghetti.”

“You know this place better than I do, so I’ll let you order.”

“Great,” Steven said with a beaming smile, waving down a waiter and ordering two plates of the house special spaghetti. When the waiter disappeared into the back, Steven turned his attention to you. “So, Coldplay?”

“Please, everyone likes Coldplay.”

“You struck me as more of a millennial hipster type. Like, you listen to bands no one’s heard of and you take pride in that. The lower their listener count on Spotify is, the better.”

“What! That’s such a specific assumption!”

“Tell me it’s not true then. Tell me you don’t do that,” he said, pressing his lips together to hold back a smirk.

“Well, I guess,” you said begrudgingly, unable to keep yourself from smiling at his amusement. “But I listen to lots of stuff! You strike me as an oldies lover. Like a ‘I was born in the wrong decade’ type of guy.”

“Harsh, but accurate,” he chuckled.

“What can I say, I’m observant,” you said, purposely flipping your hair and patting yourself on the back to make Steven laugh even harder.

When the waiter returned with your orders, a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you focused on the food. You’d mentioned briefly to him that what he ordered you was amazing before continuing to shovel the spaghetti down (in a sort of ladylike fashion, this was still a nice place). The rest of the evening was the two of you exchanging surface level facts about each other. Your favorite movies, musicians, places to go, museums in D.C.. It was all stuff you’d probably find if you scoured the internet and read every interview he ever gave, but it was nice to just treat him like a regular coworker, and he clearly preferred that you thought of him that way.

“Who’s your inspiration? Like for work?”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about work,” he said, a teasing smile on the corners of his lips. “But Walter Cronkite.”

“Typical.”

“What? He was the most trustworthy man in America. I’d like to be on that level, you know? To be someone that people would look at and say ‘that person is telling the truth’. It’s a big honor.”

“That’s fair. You’re right. It’s a popular response, but it’s a good one.”

“Who’s yours, then?” He asked.

“There was a woman who did our local news, Tiffany Day. She was amazing. I wanted to be like her so bad when I was growing up. She seemed so confident and powerful on television, like she couldn’t be lied to.”

“I think you’ll get there. You’re already amazing and a great journalist. Biggest pet peeve?”

“Hopefully. And liars. I hate being lied to more than anything else.”

“You seem to have a preoccupation with that. Lies.”

“It’s part of my tragic backstory, you’ll have to reach level fifteen friendship to unlock that,” you said, deflecting the unspoken question. That story was not one you were interested in rehashing with Steven.

“What level am I at now?” He asked, amused with your challenge.

“Two. Three, because you bought me food.”

“How do I level up?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Well, I’ll add that to my personal goals for this year. Unlock Y/N’s tragic backstory. Just a warning, though, Miss Y/N. I usually achieve all my goals.”

You blinked at him, but he had already moved on to getting the waiter to bring him the check. You didn’t really know how to react to Steven’s promise to you, but you were a little worried. Would he really express all this interest in you after he did unlock your “tragic backstory”? You’d only had his attention for a short amount of time, but you found yourself blooming under it. You liked the way he made you feel important and the way he spoke to you.

You liked him, period.

You could only hope he’d still like you after uncovering just how much of a pathetic wreck you were on the inside. Once he’d found the irreparable neuroticism and negative energy that you tried to keep bottled up. You couldn’t say for certain, but you really hoped he’d stay.

You and Steven had been working together for a few months, and this had never happened before.

You should have expected that a mix up was bound to occur, or that your cheapskate editor would decide to cut corners on production costs, or even that hotel space would be limited somewhere eventually. But you were surprised anyways when you and Steven were asked to share a room in Anaheim. Luckily, there were two beds, but it was still awkward to be sharing a room with your hot coworker for a week. What if he ran into you while he was naked? Or worse, what if he ran into YOU naked?

You shivered at the thought as you set your luggage on the ground near the window, Steven following behind. You looked over at him while he was taking his shoes off, briefly wondering if this is what a bride would feel like on her wedding night.

‘Where the hell did that thought come from?’ You asked yourself.

“Sorry about the mix up, guess you’re going to have to deal with little old me as your roommate,” he said as he stripped off his blazer and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “I should probably warn you that I’m a little messy and I go to bed pretty late.”

“I don’t mind messes, so as long as you keep it on your side of the room,” you said with a wry smile. “I tend to play my music out loud while I’m getting ready in the mornings, but I can use headphones this week. It’s not a problem.”

“No, you don’t have to use headphones. I’d love to hear what you have on your playlists,” he said, giving you a quick grin as he began unpacking his sweatpants and toiletries. “I think we’ll be okay as roommates.”

He was wrong, however, because you were definitely not okay.

You should have established a rule about a minimum amount of clothing you were allowed to wear within the room, because Steven’s habit of walking around shirtless was driving you insane. It was taking every ounce of willpower in your body to not stare. What the hell was he so ripped for? Where did he even find the time to work out?

Meanwhile Steven’s eye candy for the week was you in no makeup and fuzzy fleece pajama pants. At first, you tried to avoid taking off your makeup while he was still awake. But you soon realized that he wasn’t lying when he said he went to bed late. You waited until 2 am on the first night before giving up and going about your skincare routine. He didn’t look twice at you, so you guessed that was semi positive. At least you weren’t double take levels of ugly.

You slammed your face into the pillow and tried not to groan out loud at the looped thought of him ditching his bed for yours, since he was right across from you reading an Agatha Christie novel. Ugh, of course he reads. As if he wasn’t perfect enough.

“Are you okay?” Steven asked.

“Great,” you lied. “It’s just a little cold in here.”

“Do you want my comforter? I kick it down to the edge of the bed anyways.”

You accepted the offered blanket, even though you didn’t need it.

On the third day, Steven accidentally walked into the bathroom right after you finished taking a shower. Thankfully, you had a towel wrapped around you, but you were startled nonetheless, nearly tripping out of surprise. He grabbed onto your arm and waist instinctually to steady you, but quickly let go of as if he’d been burned.

“Um, sorry,” he blurted before walking right back out, a blush high on his cheeks.

That was strange, you’d thought. He’d never blushed in front of you before. It was kind of adorable. Obviously you thought of Steven as handsome and attractive, and in the deep recesses of your mind, you agreed with his position as a sex symbol. But you’d never seen him as cute before. He was always much too polished. It was sort of nice to see him at a loss like that.

When you’d stepped out of the shower, he’d disappeared entirely, with only a note saying he left to go get some tea and to text him if you wanted anything. You smirked to yourself and briefly considered wearing shorts and a tank top to bed just to see how he’d react, before banishing the idea from your mind. That would be much too obvious and you didn’t want to just throw yourself at him, even though you were very tempted to. It would make your professional relationship awkward, and you liked the dynamic you had already.

Instead, you texted him to ask for popcorn so you could have a movie night and watch a horror film together. He returned with a bag full of that healthy popcorn you hate for being tasteless for himself, and a bag full of Chicago mix popcorn for you. You gasped and thanked him when he tossed it at you before he climbed into his own bed.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Uh, waiting for you to start the movie?”

“You’re really going to watch it all the way over there?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steven rolled his eyes and groaned as if you were greatly inconveniencing him, but got into your bed anyways. Mission Get Steven’s Attention: Accomplished. Now you could enjoy the movie with his body heat pressed up against your side, and maybe pretend to be scared halfway through so you could cling onto him.

Though it turned out that plan was unnecessary, because Steven turned out to be terrible with gore. He had his face buried into the crook of your neck, peeking out every now and again to see if the coast was clear. It was interesting, because you were sure Steven had seen much more graphic things at CNN, and those were worse because they were real. You mentioned as much to him, and he told you that was the problem. These scenes reminded him of the very real, very terrible things he had seen in his line of work. You turned the TV off and stroked a hand through his curls comfortingly.

“Why did you agree to this?” You asked softly, leaving the ‘if you knew this was going to happen’ unspoken.

“I thought that it had been long enough,” he said, pulling away from your shoulder. He tried to hide it, but his eyes were a little puffy and red from the tears he was trying to hold back. “That those scenes wouldn’t be vivid in my mind after all this time.”

“It’s only been a few months,” you whispered, turning to face him better. He blinked at you as you reached over to wipe the tears that had managed to slip past his control. “I wish you would have said something, the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable or bring up bad memories. I would never do that to you. You’re one of my favorite people.”

Instead of replying, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close. A comfortable quietness enveloped the two of you, only the sound of his slightly uneven breathing and his heartbeat kept the room from being completely silent.

“Thank you.”

“No. Thank you,” you said. “For being vulnerable with me.”

Part 2

thank you for reading  ♡  you can find my masterlist here  

[veeples-archive]

Happy first day of Pride in Wayhaven for the @wayhavensummer event! This is for Day 1: first pride.

Accompanying fic and a link below!

fic: first pride

pairing: nat sewell/f!detective (charlie rosewall)

rating: g

words: 2.1k

warnings: discussions of internalized homophobia, closeted queerness

***

Everything aches.

From the irritation on Charlie’s skin heralding the oncoming sunburn to the sharp soreness in her feet from standing and walking around for several hours, the weight of the day feels as though it’s settling deep in her bones. Wayhaven Pride’s opening celebration began today and, at Farah’s excited insistence, Charlie attended for the first time.

[read on ao3]

Behind her, she hears Nat’s light laugh while Charlie busies herself with fiddling around for her keys in her purse.

“Everything came together nicely today,” Nat comments. “All of the attendees looked very impressed with the festivities.”

Despite her exhaustion, hearing that makes Charlie’s chest swell with pride. In previous years Charlie limited her participation to assist Tina and the other volunteers to string up rainbow streamers and hand out fliers and take the shift that meant directing traffic and blocking off the main street. None of the logistical work Charlie favored outside of filing necessary paperwork.

This year, though, Mayor Friedman approached her to ask her assistance in planning for the event. Something about making better use of her now that she was Detective; likely to give him more leisure time with his beloved nine holes in the country club. Most of what he assigned to her was still menial — contacting vendors and keeping track of supplies, organizing the volunteers, following up with sponsors — but still knowing and seeing the fruits of her labor being appreciated in person made it feel all the more worth the additional work.

“Yes, everyone did look happy today, didn’t they? Everything looked exactly as was planned with very few hitches in the events. I’m glad I attended this year.” Charlie smiles to herself as her fingers finally wrap around her key ring.

“I’m not sure if Farah would have allowed you to sit this one out.”

Charlie laughs. “Probably not.”

She pushes the door open and both she and Nat step inside into the cooler air of the flat, Charlie sending her shoes clattering towards some odd corner of the living room (she doesn’t miss Nat’s exasperated grimace) and Nat tucking away her boots neatly on the shoe rack at the entrance.

While they unload their bags overflowing with novelty goods and tiny flags and loose buttons and stickers in companionable quiet Charlie feels some of the tiredness slip away and finds herself watching Nat run her fingers through her dark brown hair absentmindedly. Glitter falls, sparkling as it floats down onto the carpet. There’s only a faded smudge of pink, purple, and blue stripes of face paint on Nat’s cheeks that Charlie can clearly make out.

“Hey,” Charlie murmurs and brushes the back of her fingers along Nat’s jaw to make Nat look to her. “Today was the first time I’ve ever been to a pride. Did I tell you that before?”

Nat’s hands pause from unwrapping a handmade planter Charlie purchased from a local artist at the event. “I do believe you mentioned that you’d never attended Wayhaven’s Pride celebration before, yes.”

“That is true. It wasn’t until a few years ago that Wayhaven even had a Pride celebration of their own to begin with. Most people in the area would travel to the big city instead if they wanted to participate — it’s bigger there, obviously, longer too with more events. Sometimes they hire performers or musicians to play there.” Charlie turns back to look at her own spread of goods. Shiny rainbow colored buttons declaring love and buttons with the pink and orange lesbian flag. A sticker of a rainbow grumpy cat that Farah must have snuck in her bag while she wasn’t looking.

“But you didn’t.”

It’s not an accusation or even a question. Merely a statement, albeit a curious one that indicates Nat wants her to continue this train of thought. Sharing personal details of their lives still comes slowly, but steadily. Not for any distrust or distance that lingers between them; if anything, it’s only some lingering after effects of Charlie’s reclusive nature and more so that things unfold between them as they naturally stumble into relevant topics and memories.

Makes sense enough that they can unpack her old feelings about pride while they actually unpack.

“No. I didn’t.” Charlie gathers the buttons in a neat little pile and aimlessly spreads them out again. “There’s a few reasons I never went to one before. Namely that…” She draws in a measured breath to ease her nerves. “I didn’t know I was gay until I was 28, Nat.”

Nat doesn’t prompt her further, letting Charlie sort through her thoughts on how exactly she wants to approach this topic. Her mind feels like a mess of feelings and half formed explanations. None of it fits exactly right together, all jagged, mismatched edges, ideas and memories that lead to nowhere.

A scream, or a cry, might be more apt to sum it all together.

“Let me backtrack. I’d always approached life as a series of expectations and tasks laid out for me to complete. Stay focused in school, bringing home a shiny A-star on my homework and tests, line up possible universities with excellent programs I could attend. Call it a map, or a checklist, whatever — I felt that if I could mark off each tally and each check box, that would be it, I would be happy. That was life.” Charlie stops in the middle of her prattling to clear her throat noisily. Nat steps away from her for a moment and returns with a glass of water that Charlie gratefully accepts and takes a tiny sip of. “Part of that was assuming that at some point a man would fit in between securing my career and purchasing a home.”

Charlie laughs. It sounds painfully strained to her ears and she can see in her periphery Nat’s sympathetic smile. Her fingers run along the cool glass in slow, vertical strokes while she thinks.

“I’d never given myself any other option. I’d never considered that perhaps the reason why I kept delaying going on dates and finding a boyfriend wasn’t because I wanted to focus on my studies or focus on the part time jobs I would pick up — I just assumed that once all else was cleared from my life’s itinerary a respectable man would be there and it would be time to settle.”

She takes a larger gulp of water to dispel the growing lump in her throat. “That’s how I always thought about it too. Settling. Not something to look forward to, not something to dream about: settling. Setting my expectations both high and low: high enough that I wouldn’t accept any man off the street, he’d have to be good looking, he’d have to be successful in his career, he’d have to be a good conversationalist and reasonably funny. Low enough that even if I couldn’t really envision happiness, I could envision security and that could be enough.”

What is left of the quickly fading sunlight casts long, burned umber stripes across the floor from the slight opening in the half closed blinds. The shadows surrounding the light seem deeper, darker, more intense. They’re not scary or uninviting: they feel safe, they feel secure, like if she speaks her secrets to them that they will be kept once the light chases them away and she can clear her mind of the swirling emotions racing to come out of her mouth.

“So I never spent any time thinking about the gay community or questioning myself when I had the best opportunity to do that in the big city. I never really made those connections, I never got involved, and by the time I even knew I wasn’t a bitchy, uptight straight woman, that I was a bitch, uptight lesbian, I was back here.”

The next gulp of water Charlie takes drains the glass of the rest of the water. She slams the glass back down onto the table too hard, not enough to crack it, but hard enough that the sound rings sharply in her ears to make them both wince.

“No career outlooks.”

Charlie braces her hands on the table, spread out wide to make up for the tremble of her knees.

“No friends.”

At some point during her rambling her hands had curled into tight, white knuckled fists, her short fingernails biting sharply into the soft skin of her palm. Before she clench them further and draw blood, Charlie watches Nat’s hand drift over to hers, carefully stroking the back of her tensed hands, her long fingers roaming over her knuckles and squeezing around Charlie’s smaller hand firmly.

Slowly, Charlie forces her hands to relax. Still her voice wobbles as the words pass her lips.

“No community.”

The words taste bitter on her tongue. Acrid and putrid, like an acid that could eat holes into her tongue and in her throat. Saying it all out loud, presenting to Nat one of the shameful and uncertain and confusing times of her life, it feels… Charlie runs her tongue along her front teether and swears she can taste the bite of copper there. Something in her throbs hot and desperate; maybe it’s like a wound bound too tight in bandages, needing to be aired out to let it heal.

“Wayhaven is so small,” Charlie whispers, voice slightly ragged. “I could count on my two hands how many gay people there are here before Verda moved to town. There was Tina. Bobby. A few teenagers that ran the local Gay Straight Alliance. The elderly lesbian couple on the outskirts of town, they sell peaches in the summer — just a handful of people.”

The breath she’d been holding comes out in broken pieces. Then, she repeats herself. “Wayhaven is so, so fucking small, Nat.”

And that’s the totality of it. Less than ten whole people in Wayhaven who knew they were gay, half of them either too old or too young. “Without a Pride here, with just a couple of faded pamphlets to educate parents on having gay children, there wasn’t anywhere I could go to feel welcome or learn more outside of listening to Tina’s endless whirlwind romances. So the idea of going to the big city pride with a bunch of people I didn’t know and a sexuality I had only just acquainted myself with…” Charlie huffs out a dry, rattling laugh. “I just didn’t know how to be gay, Nat. I didn’t know how I belonged to a community I didn’t know. So I did what I have always done: I worked, and I worked, and I worked to fill my time.”

There are no tears like she may have expected. Her eyes are burning, but it is a dry burn, like the kind she gets when she’s been staring at her computer screen for too many hours without relief. The lump in her throat, that throbbing something in her chest, they both ease, slowly at first, then faster as she realizes Nat’s arms have wrapped around her. Neither of them speak, choosing instead to lean into each other, Charlie’s cheek on Nat’s shoulder, Nat’s nose against her scalp.

By now almost all of the light has faded, leaving only a subtle glow for her to see the details of the goods spread out on the table. The glint of the buttons and shine of the vinyl stickers. The planter, the print of a woman drawn in simple curved black lines still kept in its tight roll with the rubber band, the stack of folded shirts. A small collection of photos from the day, Farah and Nat’s faces smiling back at her, Morgan glaring and Ava markedly looking away with a small, almost dismissible, smile.

The pictures, the proof of what community she has built now, warms her. Not only Unit Bravo who’ve become a facsimile of a family to her, but Tina and Verda and Eric too. Elidor and Tapeesa, some of the other supernaturals she’s met along the way — a budding family, growing and blossoming faster and more vibrant that she’d ever thought she could have.

Now Charlie is smiling too, warm with love, warm with a spark of private joy.

“That’s all changed though. What a difference finally belonging to the community makes,” Nat’s made a line from her scalp to her temple, her lips curved in a smile against her skin. “I’m happy I was able to spend my first pride with you and the others.”

“I am happy to be a part of it,” Nat hums, tugging her closer to her chest. Her lips find purchase on her jaw and near her ear, pulling breathy little giggles from Charlie until she forces herself around in Nat’s arms so she can redirect the placement of the kisses to her mouth.

They kiss, giggles still bubbling between them, light, quick things without intent of going further. Maybe later they will, after they’ve both washed the dirt and the sweat from the day, but for the moment Charlie wants only to savor the taste of Nat on her lips and the smell of her sun warmed in her nose.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH14

Things are changing ;) The next 10 chapters look a lot different than the original, and most of them are brand new.

Previous      First      Next     AO3

---------------------------

Chapter 14: Death by a Thousand Cuts

The crowd waiting for Ladybug and Chat Noir outside the Louvre grew thicker as another van pulled up, and a crew of reporters hopped out. Alya drummed her fingers on her phone, shifting when the new additions forced their way into the throng. She just wanted answers. Being selected to be Rena Rouge meant she had some sort of bond with Ladybug, right? So why did Ladybug replace her without warning? Was it out of necessity? Or did the fox Miraculous have a permanent new owner?

Camera bulbs flashed as the heroes exited the museum, and several microphones competed for their attention, swallowing Alya in a sea of limbs. Lila promised a private interview, and if her stories were to be believed, she’d better come through. This was the moment that would define their friendship, and more importantly, Alya would finally learn if Marinette and Adrien were telling the truth.

“Ladybug!”

“What’s the story on this akuma?”

“Can you confirm that you and Chat Noir are dating?”

“Do you have any leads on tracking down Hawkmoth?”

“A student got punished for wandering off on a field trip. No, we’re not dating—stop asking! And as of right now, we have no leads, but Chat Noir and I are doing everything in our power to keep you all safe,” she said smoothly. She never once looked at Alya in the crowd.

“Ladybug,” Alya spoke up.

Ladybug shifted to face her, though her face bore no sense of recognition or familiarity. Her expression was blank, cold, business-like, distant—a steely mask hiding her emotions.

Alya bit her lip and continued. “Um, I was hoping to get an answer to a question many of my followers have. Do you have time for an interview?”

Ladybug’s earrings beeped frantically—a reminder that the heroes were on literal timers.

“I’ve only got a couple minutes,” she replied. “Make it quick.”

Strike one.

“My viewers want to know what happened to Rena Rouge. Will Malin be a permanent replacement, or was he a temporary stand-in?” she asked.

Several reporters rolled their eyes. As far as they were concerned, these questions were yesterday’s news. No one else seemed to care that Rena Rouge was replaced. They clung to whoever wore the suit in the moment, but it was the most important question in the world to Alya.

Something flashed in Ladybug’s eyes, an uneasy expression Alya saw in the mirror a lot as of late. Those big blue eyes were filled with pain, hurt, and regret, but Alya couldn’t figure out why. What had she done to receive such tortured expressions from someone who once trusted her?

“Malin will wield the Fox Miraculous in all battles moving forward.” She grabbed her yoyo. “No more questions. Bug out.”

Reporters glared daggers at Alya for wasting their opportunity to get the latest scoop. Alya could see it in their eyes. As far as they were concerned, Rena Rouge was old news. Her heart dropped to her feet, shattering like glass on concrete.

Strike two.

“I’ll be happy to take a few more questions.” Chat Noir stepped to the center of the crowd. His eyes skipped over Alya too, lengthening the chasm growing between them.

Strike three.

All the microphones pointed at him, pushing Alya aside just as Ladybug had done to Rena Rouge. Her heart hammered in her chest, a painful lump blocking her throat as tears welled in her eyes. Did Ladybug not trust her anymore? What did it all mean? Lila was supposed to talk to her and set up a private interview, but Ladybug treated her so coldly. Why?

Because she’s a liar.

The thought flashed in her mind, Marinette’s familiar voice ringing in her ears. Alya had to wonder if knowing the truth was any better than living in ignorance. One thing was certain: if Lila really was a liar, then Alya had a lot of apologizing to do.

♪♫♪ Sanctuary ♪♫♪

“Hey, you made it!” Macy took Marinette’s hands and planted kisses on her cheeks. “Is Adrien coming?”

“He said he was.” Marinette retrieved her phone from her purse to check her messages.

“You two should sit together.” Macy insisted, and when Marinette’s eyebrows raised, she added, “I’m a huge fan of his, but you two seem really close, and I’d never want to start anything over a boy. It’s not worth ruining our friendship.”

“Macy…” Marinette pulled her in for a hug. “You’re the best.”

“No, you are, and if Adrien can’t see that then he has poor taste,” Macy said. “If you ever need a wingwoman, I’ve got your back, and I’m sure Eliott can teach you all kinds of ways to flirt.”

“I might take him up on that. I’m hopeless.” Marinette admitted. “Sometimes when I talk to him my words come out wrong.”

“Why don’t I set up the perfect scene for you two tonight?” Macy offered. “Afterall, the play is packed with romance. He won’t know what hit him.”

“Who won’t know what?” Adrien asked as he and Martin approached.

“Oh, nothing,” Macy said with a coy lilt. “Just girl stuff, you wouldn’t be interested.”

“I get it. Keep your secrets.” Adrien smirked.

“Come on, Eliott reserved us box seats!” Macy took Marinette’s wrist and led the way.

As promised, Macy sat Marinette next to Adrien and toted Martin off with her to “get a drink.” Adrien seemed oblivious to her plans but unbothered by the extra alone time with Marinette.

“So, your dad let you come, huh?” Marinette said conversationally.

“He’s more amicable toward other rich people, and he thinks theatre is a more…enriching activity.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess he figures I’ll behave.”

“Either way, I’m glad. It means we can spend more time together.” Marinette offered him a shy smile.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a downer. I’m really glad he’s letting me out. Ever since you changed schools, I don’t get to see you as often, so I always look forward to spending time together,” he said.

Marinette’s heart skipped three beats. “Yeah, it’s great! N-Not that he doesn’t trust you, but that we can hang out, I mean. It stinks that he doesn’t trust all of your friends and keeps you at home, and I’m sure it must be hard for you, and… I’m gonna stop talking.”

She turned to face forward, slapping her palm to her forehead. Maybe she should have hit up Eliott for flirting advice before she let Macy push them together.  

“No, no! It’s fine. It is hard, but I’ve got really great friends like you who understand, so that makes it better,” he said.

“You know I’m always here for you if you want to talk about it. Any time.” She reached out, hesitantly at first, to place her hand over his. “You’re…really important to me, Adrien.”

Adrien searched her soft expression before a smile curled on his lips. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” He gave her hand a squeeze as Macy and Martin returned.

Macy nudged Marinette with a giggle, and she bit back a smile. Maybe she wasn’t as hopeless as she thought. Adrien kept hold of her hand until the lights dimmed, and the theatre hall broke into applause. It was a small gesture, but Marinette would take it.

Eliott played an amazing Chat Noir, and even Margot didn’t do too bad as Ladybug, despite being a total brat behind the scenes. The play was fun, and a reminder of how much Paris trusted Ladybug and Chat Noir to defend them. Though, she did find fault with their kiss at the end seeing as she and Chat were so not like that, but Paris wanted what it wanted even if it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You. Were. Awesome!” Macy tackled Eliott the moment they met up afterward.

“Thanks,” Eliott chuckled. “I think that was my best performance.”

“You play Chat Noir so well, Eliott. Are you sure you’re not really him?” Marinette teased.

“I’d believe it,” Adrien said. “I’m impressed by the quality of your playwright’s puns.”

“They’re almost as cheesy as the real Chat Noir’s,” Marinette added with a grunt.

“Not feline the cat puns, Marinette?” Adrien folded his arms over his chest and cocked a brow.

“Purrhaps she just doesn’t find them funny,” Eliott said with a wink.

“Then she has a very purr sense of humor.” Adrien smirked.

Marinette rolled her eyes, shooting him a playful grin of her own. “I just think his comedic timing needs work. They’re saving Paris; shouldn’t he take his job a little more seriously?”

“Meowch. No appreciation for good comedy with this one,” Adrien said.

“I may have to reconsider purrmitting you to attend the after party on my yacht,” Eliott said. “You have to make one cat pun to be admitted.”

“Do I have to?” Marinette groaned.

“We can chat about it on the way.” Macy giggled as Adrien and Eliott praised her contribution.

“Yeah, we’ve gato go.” Martin pointed to the door, only adding fuel to the fire.

Marinette sighed. “Betrayed by all of my friends at once. That’s cold.” When they all gave her expectant looks, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Please leave meowt of this.”

She rolled her eyes as they all applauded, curtsying and blowing sarcastic kisses. If anyone knew more cat puns than they ever wanted to, it was her. Chat Noir certainly kept them coming.

“Alright, I guess you can come.” Eliott draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked.

“You guys are insufferable,” Marinette said.

“You love us though.” Adrien wrapped an arm around her waist on the other side, and her cheeks warmed.

Across the lobby, Lisette was chatting with other stagehands, and Eliott stiffened. He might be good at flirting, but when it came to Lisette, he always clammed up. It didn’t help that she was shier than Marinette either.

“Go invite her.” Marinette urged, elbowing his side.

“What? Who? I wasn’t- you’re…”

“Hey, Lisette!” Marinette called, breaking out of his grip and beelining for her.

“Marinette!” Eliott chased after her.

Lisette tilted her head to one side. “Hey, you’re…”

“Marinette.” She held out a hand. “Eliott’s friend.”

“Yeah, you were at our dress rehearsal last night.” Lisette nodded, cheeks flushing when Eliott latched onto Marinette. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s up.” Eliott clamped a hand over Marinette’s mouth, and she gave him a prompting look. “Um, just I’m having a party on my yacht if you wanna come. Just a few friends and family, super casual. Margot won’t be there.”

Lisette clutched the hem of her shirt and bit her lip. “Sounds fun.” She rocked back on her heels. “Let me go home and change, then I’ll come over.”

“Okay, great!” Eliott said a little too loudly. “I’ll- We’ll see you there.”

“Great.”

“Cool.” He turned abruptly, dragging Marinette away by the wrist. “Okay, I deserved that revenge.”

“She likes you!” Marinette said.

Eliott couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up.”

“She’s coming to your party.”

“Yeah, I got that. Thanks.” He let a breath pass his lips. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never liked someone before, and I’m scared that everything could go wrong.”

“Talk to her tonight. Let her get to know you, and I’m sure she’ll like you no matter what,” Marinette urged. “Have confidence.”

Eliott searched her expression, pursing his lips. “Okay.”

The rest of the group was waiting in the limo, and Marinette crawled in beside Adrien. Macy was prattling on about the play, particularly the big kiss at the end, teasing Eliott for having to kiss Margot.

“Do you think her snobbishness can infect you like getting bit by a zombie?” She poked his cheek.

“Shut up, we’ve rehearsed that kiss a 100 times over the past few weeks, and I’m fine.” He swatted her hand away.

“You really are a good actor if you can pretend to be in love with Margot for an hour and a half,” Macy said. She fanned her cheeks. “Even still, that kiss was so romantic! I would love to have seen the real thing on heroes day.”

“Oh, come on. That kiss so didn’t happen in real life. The playwright just added it in for dramatic effect,” Marinette said.

“How do you know?” Adrien quirked a brow.

“I- just Ladybug is always saying in interviews that they’re not a couple, so of course they didn’t kiss.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh, that’s just a cover story. They are totally in love. Chat Noir is head-over-heels for Ladybug, and she just hides her feelings so Hawkmoth can’t use it against them,” Macy said, not bothering to mask the ‘duh’ in her voice.

Marinette rolled her eyes. If only they knew.

When they arrived at Eliott’s yacht, her friends continued their chatter, and a small smile curled on Marinette’s lips. She really was lucky to have them, even if they all believed Ladybug was in love with Chat Noir—she’d convince them eventually. After everything that happened with Lila, Marinette was spiraling, feeling unappreciated, abandoned, and angry. Martin and Eliott said she helped them, but truthfully, their friendship saved her first. They showed her that real friends did exist, and that they don’t abandon one another.

Finally, her gaze rested on Adrien, the one thing she still had left from her old school. He’d grown quiet after their conversation. He flashed smiles and laughed when appropriate, but something hid behind those green eyes, an intensity Marinette had never seen from him before. After a while, he disappeared from the party, and Marinette wondered if he’d gone home until she found him on the upper deck looking out over the Seine.

“I’ve always thought the Seine was prettier at night,” he remarked as she approached. “The reflection of the lights on the water calms me down.”

“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet ever since the limo ride,” Marinette said. She leaned against the railing next to him. His eyes were fixed ahead, barring her from the emotions brewing inside. Another gray wall with a locked door between them.

Finally, he flicked his gaze over to her, searching her face as if she were a puzzle that needed solving. He looked at her like that a lot nowadays. Several times when they spent time together, she’d catch him staring. A month ago, she would have done anything to get Adrien to look at her, but now as they stood only centimeters apart, eyes locked, she didn’t know what to say. Her heart fluttered.

The last time they hung out, Adrien almost kissed her—a fact that haunted her every day since. What did it mean? Was Adrien in love with her? Was he going to kiss her now? Oh god, she shouldn’t have eaten the Camembert from that cheese platter.

His eyes bore into her so intensely, she thought she was going to pass out, but instead of kissing her, he bit his lip and asked, “How are you holding up with everything?”

Blinking in surprise, she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m doing better now,” she said. “Some days are still rough, but I’m grateful for my friends. They’ve really helped me overcome everything.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot lately. I’m just glad you and I are still friends,” Adrien said softly. “You’re someone I don’t ever want to lose.”

Her cheeks warmed as he tucked a loose strand of hair into place. Taking a leap, she took a step toward him, curling her arms around his waist. He held her close, resting his head against hers.

“I’m really glad I still have you,” she whispered.

“You’ll always have me. I’ll always be watching out for you,” he said in her ear. “Always. I promise.”

♪♫♪ Careful ♪♫♪

“Hey, bestie.” Lila smiled as Alya approached their usual table at their favorite café. Her face fell when Alya flashed her a pensive frown. “Why the long face?”

“I talked to Ladybug yesterday,” she said. “She totally blew me off. I thought you said you were going to get me a private interview.”

“Oh no, I am so sorry, Alya!” Lila’s face fell into her hands. “I should have warned you, but I just don’t know what happened. I tried texting the private number Ladybug gave me, but she totally ghosted me. I don’t know what’s going on with her lately. She hasn’t been replying to me at all.”

How convenient.

Alya crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m having trouble believing you.”

“I’m not lying to you, Alya! Ladybug has been pulling away from me lately, and I don’t know why.” Lila’s lips curled into the perfect pout. “I find it really hurtful that you don’t trust me. I thought we were friends, but you’re starting to sound like Marinette.”

“We are, I just… I don’t know what to think anymore. I-” Alya averted her gaze with a sigh. “I need some time to clear my head, okay?”

“Of course. I know you have trust issues after what Marinette did to you, so I completely understand,” Lila said. “But please, don’t call me a liar like she used to. If you leave me, then everyone else will too.”

Alya chewed her cheek, searching Lila’s expression. Her eyes seemed so genuine that Alya almost apologized on the spot, but she knew that not everything in life was as it seemed. Be a journalist. Investigate.

“I gotta go,” she said. “My sisters want to see a movie this afternoon, and my parents are at work.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lila offered, but Alya held up a hand to stop her.

“That’s alright. I can handle it,” she said. “Thanks, though.”

Lila sank back into her chair with a pout. As Alya turned to leave, Lila’s face shriveled into a glare that sent a chill down her spine, but she kept walking. Maybe she imagined it. Her mind played all kinds of tricks on her lately. She only hoped the truth would reveal itself soon and free her from all of this doubt.  

♪♫♪ happiness ♪♫♪

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ladybug sat on the edge of a roof, staring out over the city. She heard Chat Noir touch down behind her, but she didn’t turn around as he approached. Her head was drained, empty, lifeless as she stared ahead.

He didn’t question as he sat beside her. They knew each other well enough by now that she didn’t need to explain when she was upset. He just knew. The silence stretched on, but Chat Noir waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts.

“I knew it would happen,” she said finally. “I knew she would wonder.”

“Alya?”

Ladybug nodded. “I never told you, but she was Rena Rouge.”

Chat Noir’s mask raised, and Ladybug lowered her gaze to her lap.

“She must hate me now,” she murmured, lip quivering.

“You did replace her without an explanation,” he said pointedly.

“I had my reasons.” She swung her legs over the edge. “I need people that I trust by my side.”

“I wasn’t questioning your decision,” he said. “You know I trust you 100% no matter what.”

“I guess it’s not that I don’t trust her.” Ladybug sighed, chewing her lip. “I mean, I don’t doubt that she would still work with us, but she’s hanging out with Lila, and after everything…I can’t work with her.”

“I understand.” When Ladybug gave him a disbelieving look, he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckle. “Really. I do, Bug.”

“I know it sounds selfish, but I can’t put my feelings aside,” she said. “I know we have a duty to protect the city, but if I can do that with someone else, then why go through the trouble?”

“No one’s asking you to.” When her face fell, Chat Noir reached out to cup her cheek. “Bug, you did the right thing. No one is doubting you. We need people we can work with and count on, and if Rena Rouge isn’t it, then it’s time for Malin to step in.”

She leaned against his shoulder, watching cars crawl up and down the street with sad eyes—a city full of people counting on her. They seemed so small from up here.

“It’s hard sometimes,” she said. “Having the whole city looking at you to fix all of their problems… The weight of the world gets so heavy.”

“Don’t worry about stepping on toes. We have to do what we can to save everyone, and we can’t do that if we’re working with people we can’t trust,” Chat Noir said. “It’s not selfish. It’s our job.”

Ladybug smiled, Chat Noir’s familiar warmth flooding her chest. Chat Noir could be sweet when he wanted. He could give Adrien a run for his money if he acted like this all the time. Nah, that was a stretch, but she’d always love Chat in her own way.

Ladybug stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, kitty.”

“You’re welcome.” He smirked, then added, “I just hope you’re not thinking of replacing me.”

“Of course not,” she giggled. “I know I can always count on you.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” He leaned his head against hers, and they sat for several minutes, watching the city lights twinkle on the skyline.

She spent a lot of time leaning on blond boys lately, but in her defense, she had two of the best. Chat Noir trusted her even when she didn’t trust herself. Sure, he was goofy, full-of-himself, and his puns were terrible, but… Somedays she needed someone like that. Someone to make her laugh and roll her eyes. He was her best friend, and she hoped that even after they defeated Hawkmoth that they would always stay this close.

“Until next time, m’lady.” He bowed theatrically when they stood to leave. “I’m always here for you if you need me.”

“I know.” She pulled him in for a tight hug. “Thank you for being someone I can lean on. It means the world to me.”

“Of course, m’lady.”

Ladybug swooped down to the street, ducking behind an ad stand and letting her transformation drop. Clara’s presentation was in a week, and she was going to pull an all-nighter. Coffee was a must. She was getting close to finalizing a few of her designs, and now that she’d gotten everything off her chest about Alya, her mind was a lot clearer.

Rounding the corner, she crossed the street to a quaint little café before a waterfall of silky, red hair wiping a table in a dingy green apron caught her eye. Was that…

“Gabrielle?”

[obae-me]

“Can you write the brothers with an MC who has a big scary looking dog but is actually really friendly, and a small adorable cuddly cat but actually hates new people?”

So Tumblr screwed me over a small bit by deleting a draft of an ask someone gave me, even though it still says I have a draft, when I go back to my drafts they’re gone, so I had to rewrite it. I have learned my lesson for not keeping it saved on something else. So I hope the quality didn’t suffer for it.

Thank you to the person who sent me this request, I’m sorry I can’t remember your blog name! You were really very friendly so thank you, stay hydrated and take care of yourself! 💜

Lucifer

When MC came to the devildom with two animals in tow, he wasn’t ready for the new year of having to look after three new additions to the household. Especially after many many Henry incidents, and that one Satan fiasco with the cats. It took them months to clean up all that cat hair. However, much to Lucifer’s surprise, MC took care of them really well. He gained a new respect for MC’s ability to follow through with responsibilities.

He did find it amusing that MC had a huge dog following them around. Of course they weren’t as big as Cerberus or nearly as terrifying, but MC’s pet was fairly intimidating for a normal creature.

He’s a dog person for sure. He’ll bond with MC’s dog faster than anyone would expect. Some of it having to do with the fact that Lucifer was the only brother willing to approach them at first.

He wasn’t surprised that the pet was lovable. He could tell that there was no malice in their eyes even when they barked at him. If he felt the pet needed some behavioral lessons, he’d gladly help MC with it. He trained Cerberus with his own two hands after all. 

He’d give the dog many secret treats and pets while no one was looking.

The cat though, he’d stay away from that one. One attempt to pet it as a show good spirits and one pair of his favorite gloves were ruined.

Mammon

MC had pets? He was excited for em, especially since Lucifer had never let him have a pet, and since they were MC’s he could have all the benefits of a pet without having to take care of them!

He tried bonding with the cat first since the small thing looked nothing like their dog. They were so tiny it was hard to believe it wasn’t a kitten. They had the biggest eyes, eyes that just begged for love! But when Mammon tried to pick the cat up, they hissed, leaving a large scratch mark on his face as they dashed under MC’s bed. He found it best to leave the cat alone from now on.

MC’s dog scared him for a while, though he’d never admit it, he’d just avoid the pet whenever he saw them. One day in particular, when the dog spotted him, it ran after him at full speed, causing Mammon to shriek and sprint away with colorful language. He’s the fastest demon so he got away just fine, but he could still hear them clawing at the door.

On the search to find their dog, just to find them sulking at Mammon’s door, MC went inside to find him curled up in the backseat of one of his cars. They dragged him out and sat him on his bed and slowly introduced the two to each other. MC’s dog had just been chasing him because they wanted to play. Mammon knew that, for sure, totally.

He’ll make sure to give both pets plenty of toys to make sure he doesn’t become their next one. 

Levi

Pets that had fur instead of scales? And they weren’t named Henry? MC was a typical Normie. 

He’d appreciate both of them from a distance, the last thing he wants is hair on his figures and in his equipment. He shudders to remember when he cleaned out his keyboard after the Cat Incident.

He does love that MC has pets though, don’t get him wrong. He’ll reminisce about all the fond memories he had about all his Henrys. He and MC will share fun pet stories and gush over photos.

He’ll eventually allow MC to try to acquaint him with their pets, but he’s not sure how well it will go since he has too many bad memories of Cerberus chasing him, snarling at him, ruining an entire manga collection. And cats love fish, what if they get their claws on his precious Henry?! 

It surprisingly went okay, he enjoys now trying to get MC’s dog to do cool tricks that he’s seen in anime. As for the cat, Levi often finds them in his room, tail flicking as they closely watch and gently swat at the fish that swim by. He also tends to find them curled up on his warm consoles. There’s something comforting about having a little companion while he plays his games, something his fish can’t always give him. 

Satan

Cat?? MC has a cat?? Lucifer banned him from bringing cats into the house, so the fact that MC had one meant that he could pay attention to them all he wanted, and Lucifer couldn’t prevent him from doing so.

His brothers were idiots to try and immediately lay hands on the cat. He had read about feline behavior and knew that you let the cat decide to initiate contact if they’re particularly scared of people.

So he’d get the kitty used to him first, by going into MC’s room and making sure it was obvious he was friendly with the owner. And then he’d just sit there in silence and read for hours, making sure they were now used to his presence.

It took a few days of patience but then he finally watched in glee as the small cat padded over to him warily, smelling him and making sure he wasn’t dangerous. Satan slowly held his hand out, making sure that the cute thing nuzzled against his fingers first before he would gently scratch under their chin.

His other brothers now looked at him in awe as Satan now often had the cat in his lap while he read, while most of them couldn’t even get close.

He didn’t quite bond with the dog, but he did occasionally give the pup a pat on the head. 

Asmo

He’s not really a pet person, like, at all. Hair all over his clothes? Constantly smelling like an animal, and not in the way he’s usually used to? No thank you! He could’ve understood if it was a cute dog you could keep in a purse or an elegant cat that made the owner look like royalty, but they were neither.

But, much to even his own surprise, he came around to them. Enthusiastically so, even, much to the shock of the House of Lamentation. It started with just pictures of them. Cats and dogs do great on Devilgram and this could be a good opportunity to show people he has a secret side.

His profile skyrocketed, which was impressive since he’s already immensely popular. His beautiful face night near these cute creatures gets him even more likes than before.

Before MC knows it, somehow he has their dog trained to sit and pose for the camera. He’ll even buy special collars and cute little accessories for the pets, making sure they look super cute for all of their photo-shoots, not as much as he is but close enough.

If the cat ever scratches him he’ll ensure MC makes up for it by giving his wound a kiss.

Beel

Beel is a puppy himself, let’s be honest. MC finds it incredibly cute how alike they are. They’re both big, strong, and intimidating, but when you get to know both of them, they’re loyal, lovable, and precious. 

He gets along great with both of the animals. The cat would scratch him to heaven and back, but he didn’t budge, and sooner than later the kitty warmed up to him. They would oftentimes treat him like a climbing post, clawing their way up his body just to stand on his shoulders, but he didn’t mind. 

As for the dog, it started off by stalking Beel, playfully of course. It didn’t stop any of the brothers from having a mini heart attack, though, as they watched MC’s huge intimidating dog slowly making their way across the hall, haunches ready to strike. The dog could play-bite him, tug at his clothes, and jump on him all they wanted to, he was unbothered. He’d even share some of his food with them.

Beel and the dog would even play-wrestle, it was great for both of them as they would expel their energy and spend more time together. And of course MC would bring both of them plenty of treats for being good. 

Belphie

He doesn’t like dogs, they’re too loud and rambunctious. Not to mention high maintenance. He prefers cats given the chance, but even sometimes they’re still too much work. 

He did make an attempt to pet the cat, only for it to attack as soon as it got the chance. It left a big hole in his favorite pillowcase. He was offended. It was supposed to be friendly, cute, and cuddly, and yet it struck back and attacked him immediately. The irony was lost on him.

MC decided that they wanted the two to get along since they were sure they would be best buds given the chance. 

When Belphie went to go take a nice nap, MC brought their tiny kitty over to his slumbering body, placing them on top of him over his blanket. The cat was tense at first, but he was so warm and comfortable, they stretched out and curled up on him. When Belphie opened his eyes and saw the wide, irresistibly cute eyes staring back at him, he couldn’t move. He just went back to bed.

Now it’s a rare sight when the two aren’t together, taking naps near the fireplace, outside under the stars. He’ll never tell anyone how he now loves to fall asleep to the sound of the cat’s purring.   

[dredshirtroberts]

Constellations

on AO3!

Rating: M / Lime Pair: Eskel/Geralt Summary: Eskel loves Geralt but their soulmarks don't match - he'd know. They're witchers, and scars are their business. As he joins Geralt in retirement, Eskel figures whatever he can get with the other witcher will be enough. He might get a little bit more than he thought he was bargaining for, but Eskel's never passed up a good deal.

My entry into the @eskelbigbang. Trying something new for posting fic so bear with me. Check out the awesome art by @dat-carovieh on their tumblr and twitter @ LupisLionstooth!

Eskel growled a little as he stumbled off the path, clutching the wound on his side. The scar on his face creased with his snarl as he collapsed into a tree. He hated being wounded. The blood loss was greater than normal and his vision swam as he tried to push forward. The horse beside him whickered softly at him as he tripped. A loose stone, probably—or at least he hoped. If there were nothing in the path that would be worse. That would mean he was worse off than he’d thought.

He needed to keep going. He had an appointment to make.

"You should meet me in Novigrad,” Geralt had said over cards last winter. They were several glasses of his horrible wine in (it wasn’t horrible, Eskel loved it, but he loved picking on Geralt more—loved making his nose wrinkle with irritation, and Eskel did prefer ale over wine but the wine made at Corvo Bianco was alright and, best of all, free) and having a quiet evening.

Most of their evenings together were quiet these days. How long had they lived now? How many of their friends were lost to the passage of time?

Lambert never stayed, preferring the road. They both dreaded his never returning but after the loss of his soulmate—the Cat Witcher that Geralt had helped avenge—he’d never been quite the same.

Ciri had grown up, grown into herself. She’d had a longer than average lifespan from her Elven blood, but she stayed with Yennefer more often than not, and had become a strong woman and mage in her own right. Yennefer, for her part, came and visited infrequently, lost often in her own research and pursuits.

Geralt’s bard, Dandelion, had retired from traveling, had owned a bar, had been a professor at Oxenfurt, and then, eventually, had passed in time from an old life lived long and lived well. Their other friends were either distant or dead.

So, things were quiet.

“Why would I meet you in Novigrad? I’m here?” Eskel had asked.

Geralt had rolled his eyes, “I mean when you’re not here. Back on the Path. We should meet in Novigrad. It’s a mid-point between here and your normal territory. And the biggest bookshop on the Continent.”

It was a tempting offer. And it wasn’t really like Eskel was going to refuse. They’d just never planned to meet before. Geralt had retired from the Path years ago, staying at his winery or traveling to meet his friends but never hunting monsters. Not that there were many monsters to find these days as it was. Eskel’s coin purse had been light for years, the only saving grace was Geralt’s hospitality during the winters, and his generosity with the funds that came in from the winery.

“Alright. Why?”

“Because I miss you when you’re out, dumbass,” Geralt groused with another eyeroll, the bite in his words sour and reminiscent of their younger brother-in-all-but-blood. The quick twitch of the corner of his mouth down and the tightness near his eyes belied the sincerity behind the words, however.

“Aww, I miss you too,” Eskel batted his eyes at Geralt sweetly, teasing, “Alright sure. I’ll meet you in Novigrad. When?”

Eskel was supposed to have been there days ago. But the contract he had been on was not only longer than anticipated but a larger beast as well. A more vicious one. And now he was injured and trying to make his way to Novigrad to meet Geralt.

He needed to meet Geralt there. He missed the man, his closest friend for the past century and a half, his only family. The closest thing Eskel would get to having his soulmate.

They didn’t talk about their marks. They used to. Before the Trials. Before everything had changed.

They were very young, the first time it had been brought up among their year group. Ten boys huddled around comparing the discolored skin that showed the closest their mate would ever come to death and recover from. They were in nothing but their smallclothes, sitting in a circle in one of the dorm rooms of Kaer Morhen and lit by only the fire in the hearth that kept the room warm in the cold nights.

Eskel’s mark was a series of dots on his arm, black-purple like bruises, peppered in regular intervals, dark lines running deep into his skin, touching the veins that brought blood to his hands, peppered in at the crook of his elbow. It was remarked by one that they were like stars—a description Eskel held onto for many years, even onto the Path itself, the constellations of Destiny drawing him to the match to his soul. Some boys had dark red patches on their chests, deep shadows of wounds-that-weren’t-yet slicing through their legs, their arms, their stomachs. One boy, Gweld, had a pale line running right across his throat.

Geralt’s was the biggest. A swath of pink skin from hips to shoulders, like he was flayed open and a new patch was sewn on in a slightly wrong color. Eskel’s heart hurt to see it. He liked Geralt best of the other boys, he wasn’t too loud when Eskel wanted to read, exchanged stories of knights and chivalry and wanting to be a hero with Eskel. And they of course got up to much mischief together, which Eskel always appreciated. To see him marked like that, to know that whoever Geralt’s soul was promised to would have to survive something that bad, was painful.

Eskel and the other boys knew Geralt’s soulmate was a Witcher. It was obvious. No one else would survive an injury that large, that deep.

Vesemir had caught them that night, scowling and barking to get back into their beds, that they’d all have kitchen duty in the morning and for the next week after for being out of bed so late. The boys had complained, whining as they got into their bunks.

The outline of Geralt’s soulmark was etched into Eskel’s mind for a long while after. Forever, really.

They’d discussed their respective marks privately at other times. Osbert had caught them out once, poking and prodding at one another, wondering what the cause of their marks would be, speculating on when they’d meet their soulmates. Would it be before they’d gotten the scars that would be representative of the marks on their bodies? Would it be after? What scars would they acquire and how would they show up on their soulmates?

Osbert had seen their marks. Saw Geralt’s and nodded, his eyes sad but knowing. Then he’d seen Eskel’s. The look on his face was one that Eskel wasn’t able to parse at the time, but as he looked back on the memory in later years, he realized it was devastated.

Eskel didn’t know what caused him to feel that way until he was strapped to the table during the Trials, mages and Witchers alike hovering over him. One of the mages had seen his arm, had nudged another beside him and said, “Look, this one already has where the needles go on his arm. Nearly labeled and everything.”

The laughter that had passed between the two mages frightened Eskel, but not more than the knowledge that his mate, the soul that matched his soul, the one that Destiny herself had picked for him, would go through the Trials, and that would be the worst thing they would survive. Would they die? On the table? He knew it was a possibility but…

Would he die before meeting his soulmate? That hurt worse, the thought of leaving his soulmate to the world without knowing what happened to Eskel. His brain raced through all the injuries he knew he’d acquired since coming to Kaer Morhen—which one was the worst one? Which one brought him closest to death? Which would be the mark on his mate’s body if he died on the table, chemicals and reagents and mutagens pouring into his bloodstream, changing his body?

For the first time in his life, he wondered if his soulmate would fear him after he became a Witcher, if he survived. And as the needles pierced his skin, their caustic, toxic mixtures seeping into him and altering him irrevocably, he cried.

Eskel, of course, had survived the Trials.

Geralt had, as well. Not easily, though. He’d been chosen for additional mutagens, extra tests, further Trials. Once-auburn hair that shone blood-red in the sunshine was snow-white. His skin was death-pale, and shadows seemed perpetually under his eyes. He had been unconscious when they’d brought him back up to the dorms, and Eskel had sat by his bed as often as he could, watching, waiting for his friend to wake up.

If he’d checked Geralt’s arms for the marks that still lay purple-bruised on his own, darker now with the pinpricks of the needles that had actually entered his arm, well… They weren’t there. His arms were as clear as the sky on a summer day. It was as if the Trials had not happened to him. Eskel knew that Witchers healed quickly, that the marks on his arm—the one’s he’d acquired, not the ones he’d been born with—would disappear shortly. But to see Geralt who had gone through more with nothing had…

Had…

Eskel hadn’t realized until that moment how much he desperately wanted Geralt to be his soulmate, until he had been so devastated by the undeniable truth that he wasn’t.

Eskel collapsed on the ground, the world shifting on its axis as he blinked foggy blurriness from his eyes. The horse behind him had stopped obediently. Geralt had trained him well, of course. Eskel didn’t expect otherwise from a man who had trained every single horse he had ever ridden—even if he did end up calling them all Roach.

He wasn’t going to make it to Novigrad.

It was the last coherent thought he had before he slumped to the ground, the world going dark around him.

Eskel had many wounds in his lifetime. Wounds that had brought him to the brink of death and he was saved only by the timeliest of Swallows, of magical healers, of mages. It was the fate of a Witcher. Their Destiny to be covered in marks from their profession. Some wore their scars proudly, some hid them away. Eskel didn’t really mind either which way. Not until Diedre.

The deep, horrible mark on his face certainly made him feel as though he were better off dead. It wrapped around the side of his face, tore part of his lip away leaving him with a constant snarl, reaching to his ear. He knew, in that moment, that whoever his soulmate was, had to hate him for giving them this…this…

This thing on their face.

It was also when he lost all hope that Geralt could still be his soulmate. That his best friend would ever become more. Geralt had always had a rather romantic idea of how soulmates worked. He would take his pleasure where he could get it in the meantime—as most Witchers did, but he would wait to have a romance with someone until their marks matched scars.

And Eskel, the fool, loved him for that. Loved him for his hopeless, idealistic view on soulmates, when in reality a soulmate was just a person, as flawed and horrible as every other person on the Continent. There were soulmate couples who hated one another. Those who never met. Those who hurt their mates, were the ones to give them their scars.

As soon as Eskel knew he was not Geralt’s he worried. He worried for Geralt because the man, despite everything was still soft on the inside, was still the boy with bright eyes who waxed poetic about becoming a Knightly Witcher, who would save the world, not just from monsters but from everything he could. The man who had wanted to name himself Geralt Eric Roger du Haute-Bellegarde entirely earnestly. The man who loved every horse he ever met and named them each after the same kind of fish.

Eskel worried because he could not protect Geralt if his soulmate hurt him, because Eskel was not his soulmate.

Eskel traced the constellations on his arm, the little stars that marked where his soulmate went through the Trials. That marked where he went through the Trials. Absently, late at night he wondered if they were someone he had already met.

After the pogroms and the attack of Kaer Morhen he no longer needed to wonder. If he hadn’t met them yet, they had probably already died.

It was years before he let himself consider that they had died even earlier than that. Likely the first year on the Path. He tried not to think about if they were from the Wolf school or another.

Sometimes he would run his fingers over the shape of the scar on his face, wonder if his soulmate could feel it—could have felt it, he sometimes reminded himself, they weren’t alive anymore, likely. He would think about what it would be to run his fingers lovingly over the mark that tied them together, let them touch his mark—the memories of the Trials were painful, traumatic for all who went through them, but maybe with the fact that it connected them together in so many ways it would be… better.

Eventually he stopped letting himself think about it at all. It hurt too much. It wasn’t Geralt, it would never be Geralt, and he would never know his soulmate.

And maybe, if he were really and truly honest with himself, he didn’t want to know his soulmate.

Eskel woke in a bed.

This was mostly jarring because he had the distinct memory of passing out in the middle of the road, but he’d woken up in worse places than a bed before. At least this time there were no succubi.

That had been interesting.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Geralt’s voice was gravelly as always, and coming from Eskel’s left hand side.

Eskel grunted as he turned his head to look at the white-haired man beside him. The ever-present dark circles under his eyes seemed darker than usual, the pallor of his skin waxier and wanner than Eskel remembered from the last time they’d seen one another.

(Geralt had been looking healthier since he’d retired, well-fed, relaxed. This looked like Geralt on the Path—something Eskel hadn’t seen in years, decades even.)

“You look like shit,” Eskel said, pulling his face into a rough approximation of a smirk. His body felt heavy and he could feel the familiar tug of stitches in his side. At least he wasn’t actively bleeding out anymore.

“Yeah, well,” Geralt started like he was going to retort, but his voice fell flat as his expression did something Eskel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on the man before, “You’re lucky I caught your scent while I was out hunting or you’d have died laying in the road.”

“Business as usual, then,” Eskel grunted, attempting to sit up a little. Geralt moved quickly, faster than Eskel was anticipating, and a hand was on his chest, pushing him back down into the bed. If Eskel really wanted to, he probably could have ignored the hand but…

Geralt’s long fingers were cold and felt nice on his heated skin and it had been so long since their last hug in Toussaint before Eskel had left on the Path again. Maybe this year he’d actually talk to Geralt about retiring with him, about setting up in the winery with Geralt, becoming even-older-old men together. It wasn’t like the monsters were getting any more populous. He could take up a trade, maybe, and pretend he wasn’t made into a monster himself by mutagens and actions and scars. Maybe he could pretend they were soulmates again, that this was enough.

He suddenly remembered why he hadn’t chosen to retire with Geralt yet. Why he might not ever.

“Stay down, idiot. You’ll pull your stitches.”

“Doubt I need them much longer,” Eskel grumbled.

“The fact that I could see your intestines before I got you fixed up begs to differ.” Geralt’s eyes were narrowed, the slits of his pupils dark in the wheat-gold of his eyes.

“Eh, they needed a bit of fresh air,” Eskel’s joking tone didn’t quite hit, and Geralt’s jaw clenched as he swallowed thickly. Eskel winced, turning away, “That was dumb of me to say, I’m sorry.”

“No you’re…you’re right. It’s part of the job,” Geralt was leaning back, taking his hand with him and Eskel gritted his teeth together to avoid begging him to keep touching Eskel, to never let go.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” Eskel shrugged.

They sat in silence for a bit, Eskel’s eyes feeling heavy again.

“You give me something for it?” He asked, his brow creasing in confusion.

“What?”

“For the…” He gestured to his side, “Did you give me something?”

“Nah, why?”

“Tired,” Eskel mumbles, feeling his eyes drift shut again. Though, perhaps the exhaustion is more from having pushed himself on the Path for days on end before his last contract, and then further while injured, from having little to no food because he couldn’t afford it and the hunting was scarce close to the griffin.

Perhaps it was being in a bed for the first time since he’d left Geralt’s side in early spring, or maybe just the safety and comfort of having Geralt by his side again, listening to the man’s steady, Witcher-slow heartbeat and the soft sound of his breathing.

“So sleep,” Geralt’s voice is fond in Eskel’s ears and he thinks it’s probably just his mind making things up as it slows from waking to meditation to sleep, drifting from consciousness to dreams with little to no effort.

Eskel thinks he could get used to it, and fears what that means.

Eskel wakes again and it’s morning. Sun is shining through the window in the corner and birds are chirping outside.

Geralt is asleep, leaned forward on the bed, head resting on Eskel’s lap, and hands clasped around Eskel’s own. Previously cold fingers are warmed by the heat of Eskel’s palms and something in Eskel’s chest clenches in a way he is all too familiar with.

Geralt’s hair is loose, unbound and a tangled mess around his shoulders. Several strands have fallen across his face, a lock of it draped over his eyes, closed in sleep with pale lashes fanned out over dark circles. Soft breaths huff between parted lips that move slightly with the dreams that he sees behind his eyelids—Eskel can see the shape of his eyes darting back and forth beneath the thin skin.

He brings his other hand up, the one unclaimed by Geralt’s grasping fingers, and gently pushes the hair out of the other man’s face.

Geralt is beautiful. And Eskel loves him. He loves him so much.

Golden eyes drift open slowly, pupils sliding from wide circles to rounded slits with the light as Geralt blinks, taking a moment to wake up.

“Hey,” Eskel murmurs, a smile sliding over his face—easy, this time, and he is sure his emotions are plastered all over his face but he can’t really find it in himself to care. Geralt is here. Geralt was worried for him. Geralt slept at his bed rather than in one of his own, holding his hand.

“Hey,” Geralt’s already rough voice is moreso from the sleep as Eskel brings his hand away from the white hair that slides through his fingers like water made semi-solid. “You actually awake this time?”

“Probably,” Eskel chuckles, resting back against the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. “Been a tough season so far.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He wants to explain, but also he doesn’t. He doesn’t want Geralt to worry about him more. He didn’t really want Geralt to worry about him injured, either, but that wasn’t his fault.

(Their trainers might have disagreed, might have said of course it was Eskel’s fault he had been injured on the Path, but they weren’t there now, were they?)

“What got you?” Fingers trace the line of the wound, healed already, the stitches already out, having been removed while Eskel slept. Eskel shivers.

“Griffin. Villagers weren’t exaggerating the size, after all.” Eskel pulls himself up to sitting, his muscles protesting after so long relaxed in sleep. “Got here in the end, though.”

Geralt snorts, “Barely.”

“Eh, I knew either you’d come find me or it was my time to go,” Eskel half-jokes. A mirror of their earlier conversation. A conversation they’d had about various wounds and injuries accrued over their extra long lifespans. Geralt’s face is impassive, neutral and shows nothing. Which means he’s very upset by this comment.

“Come back to Toussaint with me,” Geralt says, and his voice is soft enough that if Eskel wanted to he could pretend he didn’t hear it.

Eskel isn’t sure what he wants.

“Why?”

Geralt’s jaw works as his mouth stays shut. There are words, Eskel knows, caught behind teeth and tongue and throat that will not come out because Geralt’s mind won’t let them. Ever since Blaviken, he’d been like this. Their hands are still tangled together and Eskel squeezes Geralt’s fingers to his palm gently.

“Why do you want me to come to Toussaint with you in the middle of the season, Geralt?” He asks again. Sometimes saying it again, saying *more* helps. Sometimes it makes it worse. He desperately hopes this makes it better.

“I don’t want…” Geralt starts. Stops. Squeezes Eskel’s fingers back. Then he pulls away. “You’re probably hungry. I’ll get food.”

Eskel drops it. Geralt will come to him in his own time. Eskel will decide what he wants to do in the meantime. A few days rest as planned here in Novigrad will be enough for now.

Geralt comes back with food for them both, and Eskel’s body remembers that it is starving. They don’t speak much during the meal, and when it’s over they talk about everything other than Geralt’s invitation.

Geralt doesn’t bring it back up that day, or the day after. Or the day after that.

They spend a week together in Novigrad. Eskel raids the bookstore—it was very impressive, filled with tomes on tomes of books with knowledge and poetry and stories and everything and anything. Geralt came with him, though he only picked at the plays and atlases, but he purchased several books that Eskel looked at longingly, tucking them in his bags to travel, saying they will be waiting in the library for Eskel when he comes back.

Eskel decided that meant they were not going to talk about the invitation to Toussaint again unless he brings it back up.

The thing is, Eskel doesn’t want to leave Novigrad. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt. He doesn’t want to go back on the Path where he will be lonely and cold, where there is little food and fewer friendly faces. Back to monsters and fighting and nursing himself back to health, to glares and fearful children, to long stretches of time with no contact with anyone other than the horse and his reflection in the water.

He doesn’t want to risk not being able to get back to Geralt.

That night, he begins the conversation.

“We’ve been here a week,” Eskel observed, taking a bite of a soft, buttery roll. He was not sure what kind of money Geralt was paying the innkeep here but they have eaten well since Eskel arrived.

Geralt freezes momentarily. Had Eskel not been watching, he would have missed it.

“Yep.”

“Been trying to think about where to go next. Not many monsters up north anymore,” Eskel keeps his commentary light, his tone gentle and observational only. Nothing to indicate that he’s leading the conversation anywhere.

“Eskel.”

“Geralt.”

Ah, he has been found out. Figures it wouldn’t work on the man who has known him the longest of anyone alive in the world right now.

“I- I can’t-…” Geralt pushes back from the table a little, tension clear in his body and shoulders, “I won’t-”

“I was thinking I could head south. Maybe travel with you. Head to Toussaint. I know they were having vampire problems decades back. You think there are still any hiding out? I bet there’s an infestation in your library. I should really check that out, you know. Since you’re all out of practice and all.”

Geralt glares at him but there is a relief etched in his bones that Eskel can feel as he grins unrepentantly, feeling his stiff scar tissue crinkle the skin on his cheek as he does.

“You’re an ass.”

“Hmm, but you’re friends with an ass so I think that says more about you than me.” Eskel teases and Geralt rolls his eyes.

“Ass-kel.”

“Come now, Geralt. We’ve surely grown past the insults you thought up when we were twelve.”

“Not if you still act like you did back then.” Geralt points out and Eskel laughs. The tension breaks, and the two of them end up nearly giggling over their dinner.

It is good to hear Geralt laugh again. Eskel wonders when the last time he heard it was and realizes it’s been much longer than a season on the Path.

Travelling with Geralt is easy. It is also the hardest thing Eskel has ever done.

They camp on the road. It’s economical, and reminds them both of earlier times, times before the world changed and left them behind. It also leaves them with little to no privacy between them and Eskel has never wanted a wank more in his life than when he has to wake up and watch Geralt still asleep in his bedroll, or bathing in the stream. But trying to get off with another Witcher around is even more difficult than it had been to try and get off in a keep full of them—especially when he doesn’t want Geralt to know.

Because Eskel is sure Geralt would figure out exactly what was causing Eskel’s need as soon as he was caught.

Geralt’s back is nearly unmarred by scars, leaving his mark clear as the day Eskel first saw it. The mark Eskel has seen in his mind's eye for decades. Nearly a hundred years of thinking of that shape, the line of it. The pink is the same shade as it was before but seems so much darker, starker with the contrast to Geralt’s death-pale skin. The shock of color interrupted by fine scars from smaller wounds, and from the bright white hair trailing between Geralt’s shoulder blades. Eskel wants to run his hands over it, claim it, mark it up with bites and scratches and make it his because that mark ties Geralt’s soul to another and Eskel wants what he cannot have.

He turns away, usually, and does not watch as Geralt bathes. Does not imagine what he is doing, does not follow the sounds of the water moving as it is sloughed over skin, hands chafing at dirt to scrub it off, dripping, dribbling sounds as it is squeezed from the long locks of hair.

The trip to Toussaint from Novigrad is the longest it has ever been and Eskel is glad when they arrive at Corvo Bianco, greeted by the man Geralt has hired to run things in his stead. The rooms Eskel normally uses are clean and available for him and he realizes he has actually agreed to do this. He will be staying in Toussaint. He won’t be finishing the season on the Path. He will be with Geralt.

He doesn’t know if he’s made the right decision.

Geralt is far more relaxed in Toussaint than he ever was anywhere else. He allows himself to be open with his affections—something he lost when he went off on the Path, and gained back in fits and spurts after rearing Ciri. Hugs to his brothers for no reason, gentle touches to shoulders and arms and hands, leaning on them when sitting together, especially when drinking.

Lambert always scoffs and complains, shoving the man off and griping about how he’s become sentimental in his dotage. Geralt always grins and laughs, making a joke of it, teasing the youngest of their remaining family and ramping up the gestures to absurdity for his benefit.

With Eskel it is quieter, softer. Eskel always returns the touch, reveling in the chance to hold the man he cannot have. Arms around Geralt for the hug, squeezing him tight. A returned pat to the shoulder or back (where his mark is, don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t–), a squeeze of fingers when their hands touch. His arm wrapping around Geralt’s shoulders when it’s late at night and they’re leaning on one another, deep into their cups and watching the stars and the lights of the town below the vineyards as the night drifts on around them.

If he adds a few touches of his own here and there, well, it’s just to show Geralt that it’s okay to share these moments. And a kiss to the top of the head during those late nights is entirely innocent enough.

(Wishing it was more, wanting desperately for more, more, more, is just something Eskel has gotten used to after all this time. Wanting and wishing is one thing, acting on those is another and he won’t do that to Geralt, he won’t.)

So it is that they find themselves late into the night, out on Geralt’s balcony, several bottles of wine in, and Geralt resting his head on Eskel’s shoulder, Eskel’s arm not around his shoulders but further down his back, settling on his ribs. His fingers are absently tracing patterns through the fabric of Geralt’s shirt—if he’s tracing the line of the mark on Geralt’s skin, well…It’s on his back, Geralt probably doesn’t put that together.

Geralt sighs softly, a happy, content sort of sound, and turns his head into Eskel’s shoulder, headbutting it gently with his forehead.

“You good?” Eskel asks, his voice barely above a whisper. For some reason talking louder feels like it might break some sort of spell between them. Something that would cause them to have to part.

“Yeah,” Geralt hums, a smile visible from what little of his face Eskel can spy looking down at him, “Yeah, I’m… I’m good.”

“Good,” Eskel pulls him in closer, abandoning his tracing of Geralt’s soulmark through his clothes to lay his hand steadily on Geralt’s side.

“You?”

“Yeah. Me.” Eskel teases laughing a little, “I’m good.”

“Good.”

And it is. Good, that is. They’re happy. It’s warm, the last of summer fading into autumn, a breeze blowing and rustling the leaves of the vines in the vineyard below. They can hear music from the town—probably none of the human inhabitants of the land Geralt owns can, but the two Witchers are able to. It’s faint, what with the distance, but it’s audible and sets a nice background tone for their evening. There are bugs making chirping noises and night birds calling in the trees and it’s peaceful and everything Eskel never knew he wanted alongside everything he always wanted.

“Esk?”

“Hm?” He glances down again at Geralt, having been staring out at the lamplight across the valley in a daze, feeling Geralt’s body heat against his own and his thumb absently stroking against the ribbones he can no longer feel so starkly under Geralt’s skin.

Geralt’s face is… much closer than Eskel thought it had been the last time he’d looked down at him and now it’s moving even closer and–

“Ger?” He whispers when Geralt stops, a hairsbreadth from their lips touching.

“I–” Geralt stops again, pulling back a little.

“I didn’t say stop,” Eskel breathes, leaning in and connecting them together in a way they haven’t before.

Geralt is on him like a starving man on a feast, hands gripping at Eskel’s shirt, pulling him in closer, closer, closer. And Eskel goes willingly, opening his mouth to Geralt’s assault, letting him do the leading, finding out where Geralt wants this to go because wherever it is, however far, Eskel will follow.

His hands bracket Geralt’s sides, palms resting above hip bones and thumbs pressing gently into the softer flesh under his ribs. Eskel slides them up and down slowly, just a fraction of an inch in either direction, and Geralt makes a noise that Eskel has never heard him make before and suddenly Eskel is the starving man and Geralt is the feast.

They break for air when even their lung capacity is at its limit. Gasping and panting, Geralt leans into Eskel’s neck, biting kisses into the flesh there, bared because this is home, he is safe and needs no armor, no barrier between his vulnerable parts and Geralt because he can trust this man like he trusts no other on this earth.

“Fuck, Geralt. Geralt, I–” Eskel groans, tilting his head to the side to give Geralt more room, “How long?”

“Forever,” Geralt breathes and Eskel’s hands grip his hips, yanking him closer, closer still, burying his face into Geralt’s neck for his own marks to be made on the pale, pale skin.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel’s teeth bite at Geralt’s jaw, “I wish I’d known.”

“Please,” Geralt asks, “Please come to bed with me. I– I can’t. I can’t wait for you anymore.”

Eskel answers by grabbing underneath Geralt’s ass and hauling him up. Geralt inhales sharply—whether in surprise or arousal is hard to tell—his legs wrapping around Eskel’s waist as his arms drape over his shoulders. And then there’s more kissing, which honestly Eskel doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without because it’s perfect.

Geralt doesn’t have a mark on his face, and doesn’t have scars on his arm, but Eskel thinks that this has to be better than kissing your soulmate.

He carries Geralt through the door between the balcony and Geralt’s bedroom, carefully making his way over dirtied clothes and stray shoes and half-read books to reach the bed. His knees bump the edge of the mattress and he grins wickedly into the kisses Geralt is plundering his mouth with before releasing his hold on Geralt suddenly.

Geralt clearly did not realize just how much of his weight Eskel was holding, falling to the mattress with a shocked yelp of surprise before Eskel was on him again, leaning over him, pressing him back into the bed.

“Still good?” Eskel asks between kisses to Geralt’s shoulders and neck.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Geralt is nodding and his breathy words are half-whined, “Still good, fuck Eskel. Eskel I’m– I’ve–”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry.” The kisses he is giving to Geralt get gentler, softer, sweeter, “I’m sorry, me too.”

“You’re an idiot,” Geralt breathes, fondly, “The fuck did I do falling in love with a dumbass like you?”

Eskel’s heart is fit to burst at this and he looms over Geralt suddenly, “Say it again.”

Geralt is blinking with wide, dark pupils encompassing almost the whole of his golden irises, his hair is fanned out around his head like a snowy halo and Eskel wants more than he has wanted ever before and he didn’t even know that was possible but here he is. Geralt is with him, wants him, and he can have him and it’s so much more and so much better than he thought it would be.

Why the fuck did they wait so long?

“Fuck, Eskel. Eskel I love you,” Geralt’s hands rest on Eskel’s arms, but they’re sliding up to cup Eskel’s face, thumb tracing the scar from lip to cheek and back again, “I have always loved you, you stupid idiot. How the fuck have you not known?”

“When the fuck was I supposed to know?” Eskel asks, frowning, “You never said!”

“I thought you did! I thought you were waiting for your soulmate or whatever but maybe you’d settle for me eventually.” Geralt scoffs, “Seriously? You had no idea? I’ve been so obvious that Yen said something about it ages ago.”

Eskel wants to comment on the fact that Geralt thought Eskel was waiting for his soulmate when the whole time Eskel thought Geralt was waiting for his soulmate. He wants to say something about how low Geralt’s self esteem is that he thinks Eskel would have to settle for him, like Geralt isn’t the only thing in the world Eskel can’t put a price on if he absolutely had to. He wants to make mention of the fact that Geralt thought he was being obvious about it, that Yen somehow figured it out.

Instead he just grins down at Geralt.

“I love you too, you son of a bitch.”

It’s good, what they have. It’s pretty much the same as it was, but Geralt is even more physically affectionate and now Eskel can kiss him and hold him and Geralt kisses and holds him back. Geralt is very good at kissing and Eskel tries to be as appreciative of it as possible every time he is gifted with the opportunity.

They have not gone farther than rutting against one another through their clothes and Eskel can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

On the one hand, he very much wants to fuck Geralt. It’s something he’s been thinking of doing for nearly a hundred years, and now that he gets to be so close to it, it’s almost painful that he can’t. On the other hand, seeing Geralt’s soulmark while they’re intending on doing something intimate together, despite how many times Eskel has fantasized about marking it up, making it his, making Geralt his, he’s not sure he would actually be able to follow through with anything if he saw it in the moment.

Geralt, too, seems to be reluctant and that’s probably the main reason Eskel hasn’t made any motions to go further with it. They share a bed at night for sleeping, they wake tangled in one another, they eat together, they drink together, they hold and touch and kiss and say “I love you” to one another like it’ll be the last time they ever get to say it, like it’s the first time they’ve ever said it before, and it’s good. It’s so good. It’s more than Eskel ever thought he’d get, and it’s enough.

Eskel has taken to helping out in the fields for something to do during the day. It’s harvest season and they need all the hands they can get out there, so he joins in and assists. It’s warm in Toussaint, in the early autumn, and he is sweating and dirty when he comes in for the afternoon.

Geralt is sitting outside, drinking and reading his legs crossed as he reclines a little in the chair he’s sat in, reaching blindly for the glass of wine on the table beside him to avoid looking up from his book. Eskel smiles but does not interrupt, instead shucking his shirt off with a roll of his shoulders and taking the bucket of water beside the patio and upending it over his head.

The sluice of water is chilly enough despite the bucket’s position in the sun, and while bracing, it is also refreshing and feels good on his sweaty and overheated skin. He shakes his head out like a dog—or a wolf, he thinks to himself with a smile—his medallion clinking gently on his chest as he stretches out. Not quite as rigorous as a training session with Vesemir, but close enough. He might even be sore later if he’s lucky.

There’s a startled gasp from behind him and the clattering of a glass on wood, followed by a curse. Eskel turns around to see that Geralt has knocked his wine over and is desperately trying to clean it up while also not setting his book down in it. His movements are flustered and Eskel wonders what startled him so.

“Good book?” He asks, a laugh at the edge of his voice, amused by Geralt’s movements.

“What? Oh, uh. Yes. Yes very… very… um,” Geralt struggles to come up with a word. “When did you get that big scar on your back?”

“What?” Eskel blinks at the non sequitur.

“The big scar on your back. That’s– it’s– it looks old but I don’t think I’ve seen it before?” Geralt is affecting a tone that says he’s trying very hard to appear nonchalant, which means he’s failing miserably at it. Eskel crinkles his brow with a confused smile.

“I have lots of scars on my back, Geralt. You will have to be more specific.”

“It’s…” Geralt stands, still acting flustered, and turns Eskel around, laying a hand on the top of Eskel’s shoulder and dragging it down in a rough diagonal before tracing the edge of it—it spans the whole of Eskel’s back, and he thinks he remembers which one it was.

“Uh… Leshen, I think. About… twenty years on the Path? It’s been a while, Geralt, why?”

Geralt spins him around and takes his arm, pulling it forward and stretching his elbow flat. The network of dots on his elbow are visible to the sun for the first time in, gods, half a century at least—he’s tried to keep them covered as much as he can because looking at them was too much. A pale finger traces over them, slightly cool as usual. Eskel wants to take those fingers and chafe them between his palms to warm them up but he knows that would only work a little. Plus he kind of likes that Geralt’s hands are cool to the touch.

“Yeah, uh… that’s where they put the needles for the-”

“The Trials. Yeah. I remember.” Geralt whispers, his finger tracing a connecting line between the star-shaped marks, “Had it done twice.”

“Don’t remind me,” Eskel scowls, remembering the fierce terror at waking up and not knowing where Geralt was, learning that he was having more torture forced on him, then the recovery period where he had sat sentinel at Geralt’s bedside.

“Worst thing I ever lived through,” Geralt murmurs, glancing up at Eskel through white lashes and oh.

Oh.

“Oh.”

Eskel feels numb. And dumb. And like he’s been struck by lightning. Or a griffin. Or a Leshen.

Oh.

“So… we’re idiots, right?” Eskel asks after a moment.

Geralt laughs leaning forward to drop his head onto Eskel’s shoulder. Eskel’s arms come up automatically to hold him, threading fingers through his hair, loose and long and gorgeous. He finger-combs the locks as Geralt shakes, not answering him. Eskel doesn’t worry, it happens sometimes, that Geralt won’t have words.

He does worry a little when he catches the scent of tears, “Geralt?”

“Yeah,” He finally says, “Yeah, we’re idiots.”

“But you’re my idiot,” Eskel says and it’s the strangest, greatest feeling in the world that it’s unequivocally true.

“And you’re mine,” Geralt leans back, tilting his head to the side, and taking Eskel’s mouth with a fierce—but somehow sweeter than even their chastest—kiss.

They knock their foreheads together lightly, eyes closed for just a moment as Geralt’s hands reach up and cup Eskel’s neck and face.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[xmagicxshopx]

💋 Often 💋

Genre: Slice of Life, Comedy Rating: M (smut) Warnings: strip club, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex Pairing: stripper!jungkook x reader Notes: AU fic. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This is a project and collaboration by myself, @katebacks​ and @taevjim​ Mine is based on the song Often by The Weeknd

Summary: She asked me if i do this everyday, i said often. Asked how many times she rode the wave, not so often. Bitches down to do it either way, often. Baby i can make that pussy rain, often.

Routine.

You were all about the routine. It was what you knew and what you were comfortable with; the different and the unknown being your two biggest fears in life. You had a routine. A simple five-day, nine-to-five job that paid you well. A morning schedule of get ready for work, coffee and bagel for breakfast, feed the cat, and drive exactly 20 and a half minutes to get to work. Your evenings were no different as far as having a set schedule. Come home, feed the cat, pop dinner in the microwave, eat, chill, sleep.

All of your friends and family, even your coworkers, tried to gently and kindly nudge you into mixing your life up a bit. Add some spice to it. Broaden your horizon. But you were just fine with the way things were. You didn’t need any spice in your life and your horizon was as broad as you wanted it to be. Your belief? Don’t fix it if it’s not broken and your life wasn’t broken in the slightest. Everything was just peachy. You were happy and that’s what mattered most, right?

Or were you happy?

You scoffed at your reflection in your bathroom mirror as the self doubt started to creep into your brain like an ominous fog. Of course you were happy! Why wouldn’t you be??? Brushing off the sudden wave of doubt that managed to fill your very core, you continued getting ready for work before heading out the door. But of course not before feeding your cat at exactly ten minutes till eight.

Upon walking into the office, you noticed that it was just another day. Everyone already at their desks typing away in their little cubicles while papers could be heard shuffling around into neat, organized piles. The copier buzzing away as it performed the tasks asked of it. You liked this. This was your comfort zone. Routine was good. Everything was good. You had just put your purse away and went to sit down at your desk when one of your coworkers popped up over the top of your cubicle.

“So, girl friend! It’s a Friday and I’m taking you out whether you like it or not. Be ready by nine!”

Wait what???

“But---”

“Wear something slutty, too.”

Okay, yeah. Because that was totally your style. As your coworker went back to her own work, it was now your turn to carefully climb onto your desk on your knees so that you could look over the other cubicle. Scoffing softly, you tried your best to argue over why you couldn’t go out with her tonight.

“But Gigi, I don’t have anything like that and besides, I go to bed by nine. I need my beauty sleep.”

You knew your words were weak and sounded feeble even to your own ears. What kind of excuses were those??? Well, in your defense, you really didn’t have anything in your wardrobe that Gigi would consider ‘slutty’ and the both of you knew this. With a soft huff, your coworker simply rolled her eyes and said with a confident grin,

“Fine. I’ll lend you something to wear. We’re similar in size and body build so it’ll totally work. And tonight you’re skipping out on that beauty sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to recover over the weekend.”

Just as you were about to try and come up with yet another lame excuse, Gigi continued in addition,

“And today you’re not driving home. You’re driving to my place. I’ll give you the address and we’ll make a whole evening out of it. We’ll order take-out and stuff our faces so that the food can absorb the alcohol we’re gonna tank ourselves in tonight. It’s gonna be a blast!”

Somehow you highly doubted that. None of that sounded like a fun time to you. Well maybe the take-out part. Pouting in both defeat and confusion, you couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into your coworker. You and Gigi weren’t official friends or anything so why was she doing this for you? Why put so much effort into someone who didn’t want it? With a soft huff, you muttered in defeat,

“Fine.”

It was all you could think about during the day while you tried to focus on work. Sure you knew there’d be a lot of time spent in the safety of your coworker’s home, but then where could she possibly be taking you that had to wait till after nine at night? Wait----She mentioned alcohol. Ugh. It was probably a club. Gross. Loud music, sweaty body odor every time you turn around, the stench of cheep beer. Ugh. That was not your idea of a fun night out. You didn’t even dance. You don’t even dance in front of your cat!

Before you knew it, it was five o’clock and time to pack up for the day and start the weekend. Normally, you’d be treating yourself to some drive thru food and just staying indoors till you had to leave for work the next Monday morning. However, thanks to Gigi, those plans had changed and you still weren’t all that excited about it. Pouting like a child who hadn’t gotten her way, you trudged yourself out of your cubicle to see a beaming Gigi by the elevator waiting for you.

“Don’t look so glum, we’re gonna have a great time!”

“Why are you doing all of this? You hardly know me.”

Just then, the elevator made a bell sound indicating that it had finally reached the floor you were on and the doors opened up for the both of you. As the two of you stepped inside, Gigi pressed the lobby button before clearing her throat a bit shyly and replied in a small, sheepish tone,

“I just hate to see you missing out on life, you know? I’m still new in town and I don’t have a lot of friends and you’re the only one who’s shown me any sort of kindness. I really appreciate that so I know you’re a good person and I just.....I dunno. This is going weird. Just go with it, okay?”

Never before had you seen your coworker so awkward. Gigi was always strutting her stuff with her body language screeching ‘confident’. To see her so shy and sheepish like this was new for you but somehow, you found yourself smiling and feeling touched. Suddenly feeling quite timid yourself, you cleared your throat and said softly,

“Well, I don’t know how good of a friend I’d make, but we can be friends if you want?”

You weren’t expecting the loud squeal of joy followed by the near tackle to the elevator floor as Gigi practically flung herself at you. It never dawned on you just how lonely your coworker must feel after moving to town. An area where she knew absolutely no one. No wonder she was overjoyed to hear your words. Awkwardly patting her back, you smiled up at the elevator ceiling before the doors finally opened again and brought the two of you out into the lobby.

“We’re gonna have so much fun, girly! I just know it! Dinner’s on me tonight, okay? You can pay for your drinks but dinner is definitely my treat. Come on, I’ll just meet you over at your place so you can leave your car and then we’ll drive together over to my place in my car.”

Everything was happening so fast and you definitely weren’t used to it. You preferred life in the slow lane but dang. Gigi was making that a thing of the past. Perhaps it was just her happiness of having made a new friend that caused her to be live like a wire and talking 90 miles a minute? Either way, before you could blink, you were giving her directions to your house and dropping your car off so that you could hop into hers.

During the ride to Gigi’s place, the two of you discussed what to have for dinner. Turns out she was indeed taking you to a club later tonight so alcohol was on the table as well. You could only imagine what a light weight you must be considering the fact that you really didn’t drink much. You were more of a celebratory drinker. Things like holidays and such. Otherwise, you never touched the stuff. You preferred your teas and coffee.

After deciding on Korean BBQ, the two of you placed your orders and had it delivered to Gigi’s place where the two of you eventually dug in; getting sauce all over your faces and laughing at each other over how messy the two of you looked. It was nice. This was nice. Something that you really didn’t think you’d feel based on your previous mindset. Perhaps getting out and socializing wasn’t so bad? This wasn’t so bad.

However, as the night hours passed, the hurdles only got more and more difficult to get over.

“Can’t I just go in what I’m wearing???”

“Girl----You’re wearing work clothes. No one goes to a club in their work clothes.”

The blush on your face was enough to zip your lips as you let your coworker now turned friend do her thing. Work her magic, you supposed. Would you even look right wearing something other than your usual conservative attire? Subconsciously nibbling your bottom lip in worry, you watched Gigi as she started pulling out pieces of clothing to inspect them, only to put them right back. You knew it. Nothing was going to look right on you. This just wasn’t your bag.

“Ha! Found it!”

Dang it.

Trying not to pout too loudly, you watched the girl whip out a dress that looked way too form fitting for your liking. It was drenched in sequins and jet black. Well....black went with everything, right? At least it was a color you were used to wearing as most of your work clothes were black. Perhaps that was what Gigi was going for? Something that she knew you’d at least be somewhat comfortable with due to the familiarity of it. If that was the case, then you were extremely grateful and liking this newfound friendship more and more.

“Okay so you’ll be wearing this and I have some stockings for you too. Once we’re dressed, we’ll put on some makeup.”

“Makeup?”

“Yes, makeup. We’re going to a club, girl! We gotta look pretty for those boys.”

“Boys?”

“You’ll see, girl friend.”

You simply whined and pouted with sagged shoulders as Gigi flashed you a cheeky smile and wink in return. This was too much. Yet at the same time......you were......curious? Yeah. That was it. Definitely not excited. Just curious. Still pouting, you went to work on unzipping the dress she handed you and started to carefully step into it. Gosh it really was form fitting, wasn’t it? Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment but went ahead and had Gigi zip you up.

No turning back now.

Once the both of you were dressed, it was time to put makeup on. You had quickly informed the girl that you didn’t know the first thing about makeup which didn’t come as a surprise to either of you. In fact, Gigi had full intentions of doing your makeup as well as her own. You weren’t sure if you should have felt insulted or comforted. In the moment, you were more relieved than anything because if you were in charge of doing your own......you’d just skip out on that step altogether.

“Okay, so I’ll have you watch me first and then I’ll do yours. Just in case you ever decide you want to try and do your own someday.”

The probability of you doing your own makeup one day was slim to none but it was still sweet of your coworker to say such things and offer such advice. With all the products Gigi had spread out on her bathroom counter, you figured this would take awhile. No wonder she was starting so early. You could only imagine how much all of those products cost her. It looked like a small fortune scattered all over the counter. But it wasn’t like you’d know.

However, you did as she asked and decided to watch and it wasn’t till it was over that you realized just how wrapped up you were in watching her. It was like watching a painter perform art with Gigi’s face being the blank canvas. You had no idea watching someone apply makeup could be so.....fascinating? Interesting? You weren’t quite sure of what word you were looking for but you found yourself blushing when she caught you being quite involved in paying attention.

“Okay! Your turn, girly!”

So there you stood with her applying all kinds of products to your face. You were pretty sure she put at least three different kinds of things on your lips. Something about a foundation layer and then eventually topping it all off with some gloss. Dunno. You got lost with how fast she was going through it all. Gigi knew what she was doing and that much was clear. Once she was done with your lips and you could talk freely, you couldn’t help but ask in a small and timid voice,

“So how did you get so good with makeup?”

“Oh I used to work in one of the malls and my sole job was to do people’s makeup while introducing them to the latest products. It was fun for the longest time but it didn’t pay enough. So I moved here when a job opening came up.”

Wow. You knew exactly what type of employee she was because you’d always eyeball the young girls getting their makeup done just for the fun of it while you roamed the racks for new work clothes. No wonder Gigi was so good at this. It had been her job for the longest time. You felt the need to at least give her some kind of tip but you knew right away that she’d never take it; insisting that she was no longer on the job anymore.

“There! We’re ready to par-tay!”

‘Yay.....’

Gigi said that it would be pointless to do either of your guys’ hair so you two just simply brushed it a bit and let it hang loose. Having only your bulky purse, Gigi kindly offered you a clutch purse that went with your dress perfectly; offering to keep the rest of your belongings at her place to keep them safe. But you had all the important stuff in the clutch and that was good enough for you.

The two of you would take an Uber so that the both of you could get trashed as Gigi so elegantly put it. You highly doubted you’d drink enough to get wasted but it was a smart idea. This way you could just go straight home in case you wanted to leave before your friend was ready. You had the feeling you’d be leaving way before she did.

Upon arriving at the club, you could feel your body going into some kind of panic mode. Eyes wide, face flushed with heat, and you’re pretty sure your heart is swimming in your stomach. Perhaps you shouldn’t have ate so much. The possibility that you could puke was high at the moment. Looking all around you, were strippers. The majority of them female but you could spot a few males and good lord. Your eyes. Your poor poor eyes. In a shouted whisper, you scolded the girl next to you.

“You brought us to a strip club!?!!?”

“Don’t act so mortified. Lots of people go. See?”

“I’m not one of those people, Gi!!!”

But all you got was a coo in response as your coworker-turned-friend squished your cheeks together at the cute nickname you had just subconsciously given her. Before you could further complain and even rush out the door, you were being dragged to the bar area. Good lord. There were naked and half naked people everywhere. How could anyone call this fun??? It was barbaric!! With cheeks still flushed in shock and now embarrassment, you simply let Gigi order the drinks for the two of you so that you could try to pull yourself together.

It was going to be a loooonnng night.

With a couple drinks in your system, you were definitely starting to feel it. A light weight. You knew you were a light weight but dang. Allowing the tipsy Gigi to guide you over to a table close to the stage, you didn’t find yourself whining at the idea of being so close up to someone who was going to strip right in front of you. Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with your brain and you just didn’t have the energy to care anymore. You were stuck here so might as well make the most of it, right?

And then he walked out.

If you weren’t so out of it thanks to the alcohol, you would have had better control over your bodily functions. Like trying to prevent from drooling all over yourself. He was absolutely gorgeous. And that was putting it lightly in your opinion.

His facial features reminded you of a rabbit but he was anything but cute right now. Those doe eyes of his were sharp yet hooded as he put on a show of pure seduction while on stage. Yes. This man was a stripper but you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. Your embarrassment was traded in for fascination as you watched him saunter his way to the center of the stage.

Dark locks hung in front of his beautifully handsome face and the product used in it made it appear as if he had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet. It wasn’t the only thing wet right now as you tried to press your thighs closer together. Good lord. What age were you? Sixteen? Subconsciously licking your dry lips, you watched as he began to unbutton the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Yes. He was fit for all purposes of the word. You could tell this guy went to the gym often because of the way his muscles bulged within the confines of his outfit. His dress shirt had some sort of sequins in it that made it sparkle under the harsh lighting of the stage. It was like he himself was sparkling in all his gorgeousness. You truly had never seen such a more handsome man before. Not even on magazine covers.

As he worked on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, you let your eyes wander further down his body. God his thigh muscles. How on earth did he even fit in those pants? They looked painted on! The next thing you knew, he was pulling the hem of his shirt from the confinements of those skin tight pants. If you weren’t certain he went to the gym before, you were absolutely positive now.

After watching him allow his dress shirt to fall on the stage floor, you were definitely drooling at this point. In fact, you were so wrapped up in watching this mysterious man perform that you didn’t even notice Gigi leaving you to your own devices. Had you been paying her any mind, you would have pouted at her smug expression of victory as she moved back to the bar for another drink.

With the man now shirtless, you took your good old time admiring his freshly exposed skin. He was perfect. You were pretty sure no other man could be as perfect and flawless as him. At least appearance wise. If this guy wasn’t proud of his body, then he should be. From the looks of things, perhaps he was a little too proud. You were a little drunk but you weren’t blind drunk. You could be blind and still be able to see the confidence that radiated off of him in waves.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to walk off the stage and into the crowd.

Walking right towards you.

Wait what????

Your eyes widened in shock as he strutted his way over to you. There was no mistaking that it was you he was after because there was no one else at the table you were sitting at. No. His eyes were all on you and the heat was spreading from your face, all the way down your neck and to the tips of your ears. Gosh this was so embarrassing! Where was Gigi!?!? Your heart pounded in your ears over the music as the man slowly held out his hand for you to take.

As if you still had no control over your own body, you found yourself placing your shaking, clammy hand in his own. Gosh his hands were big too. You felt so small at the realization as he gently gripped your hand in his. The next thing you knew, you were being swiftly pulled from your chair and twirled around only to land in a solid, hard lap. You were sobering up pretty quickly. Or at least it seemed like it.

Dear god this was so mortifying!!

“The name is Jungkook. I’m guessing from the frightened look on your face, you don’t come here often. Would I be guessing correctly, beautiful?”

God you needed to say something, anything, but you were just too shocked and embarrassed by your current situation that all you could do was part your lips but no sounds came out. Your eyes did all the talking as they stared into his own; yours full of helplessness and yes you were definitely scared. A shirtless stranger had you in his lap like it was no big deal. Handsome, sure, but still a complete stranger. He smiled and chuckled softly in endearment before carefully helping you off his lap and back to stand on your own two feet.

“I’ll take that as a yes. But worry not, beautiful, you’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. Here, take this and once I’m done performing, hand this to the bartender and he’ll bring you right to me. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

You stood there like a bump on a log as you watched him fish in his back pocket for something. How could he fit anything in those pants besides his hot ass and thighs? Seriously!? Those things weren’t painted on??? Blinking and feeling half numb by this point, you felt him press something into your palm and even helped close your fingers around it. As he walked away coolly back towards the stage to do his thing, you stared down at what was in your hand while fumbling to find your seat again. You definitely needed to sit down right now.

A key. This Jungkook guy had given you a key. It looked pretty antique and vintage, like something you’d see back in medieval times, but you weren’t going to question it. No. The real question was---were you really gonna take him up on this offer of his. Then again.....what exactly was he offering you? A private lap dance? That had to be what it was. Something that you wanted no part of.

Or did you?

Ugh. This was so troublesome. So annoying! Then again.....what did you really have to lose? But what if you couldn’t trust this guy? There was just so many things you didn’t know. Not to mention you were scared of looking like an even bigger idiot in front of him. He probably thought you were some spineless virgin. Granted the spineless part wasn’t far from the truth but at least you weren’t a virgin...

And before you knew it, the man was sauntering off stage back towards the curtains where he disappeared from sight. You almost choked when you realized he had stripped down to nothing but his boxer briefs. Was it a shame that you only caught his backside in that state? Wait----Of course not! You didn’t want to see what this guy was carrying around in his pants......

Or did you?

Trying to decide if you had too much to drink or not enough, you sat there for a few minutes longer weighing your options. On one hand, you could go in and see what he was proposing and if you didn’t like it, you could always back out. On the other hand, if you walk away now, you might be missing out on something that you didn’t realize you wanted. Heck, you never imagined you’d start the weekend off with a new friend. Perhaps you really did need to broaden your horizons.

Taking a deep breath, you stood from your chair and headed over to the bar where Jungkook, you’re pretty sure that was his name, had told you to hand the key over. The bartender seemed nice enough as he took the key and nodded his head with a soft ‘this way, my dear’. Oh boy. Here we go. No backing out now. It was now or never. You had half a mind to text Gigi what you were doing but something told you she didn’t miss the whole scene of you sitting in a stripper’s lap.

You were guided through a door that no doubt lead to a backstage type setting but you were totally not prepared for the scene you practically stumbled upon. Girls. So many girls. Some were half dressed while some walked around completely naked. Holy----Your eyes. Again, you weren’t a virgin but you might as well have been considering how warm your face had gotten. Some of them even giggled and flashed you cheeky winks. Oh boy. Apparently privacy wasn’t a thing around here. You could only hope there would be more privacy where you were headed.

Speaking of, after walking down two more hallways, the bartender finally reached a door and used that very same key to unlock a door before cracking it open just enough to let someone know you were here. Of course you could only presume it was Jungkook. Good lord. Hopefully there was no one else in the room. One stripper was all you could handle right now. And heck you couldn’t even handle that!

After the bartender politely bid you farewell, you found yourself gulping down a lump that had suddenly formed in your throat as you stared at the slightly cracked open door. This was it. Supposedly Jungkook was waiting on the other side. What if he was already naked??? Dear god maybe you should just politely decline and catch an Uber home. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea. Get a nice cup of black coffee and some headache pills so that you wouldn’t suffer a hango----

“You can come in, beautiful. It’s safe. I promise.”

Why did he have to sound so soothing and convincing for, huh?! Wishing you had a tall glass of ice water to jug down right about now, you did your best to brace yourself for what was on the other side of the door. Gosh your face already felt like it was on fire. How embarrassing! With a clammy and shaky hand, you put your weight on the door and eased it open further so that you could poke your head inside.

Oh.....

It looked so.....normal? Perhaps even.....casual and dare you say.......soothing?

It was pretty much set up like a master bedroom you’d find in any normal house. There was a mini bar set up with some expensive looking alcohol and drinking glasses already filled. Soft R&B music was playing in the background but the volume was so low that it indeed sounded like simple background noise. You could smell something. It was soothing but you could only guess it was coming from some kind of candle or maybe a diffuser.

“Hello there, sweetheart. I’m glad to see you took me up on my offer. I can assure you, I don’t bite. Unless of course you’re into that kind of thing.”

He was dressed so casually compared to the last time you saw him only moments ago. He was decked out for comfort despite what you believe his intentions were. Dark gray sweatpants and a matching hooded sweatshirt. They looked thin in material so it was probably just to help keep him modest while in your presence. His hair still had that wet look to it thanks to the mountain of products he probably had in it.

“Come sit with me and have a drink. Or would you prefer some water? You look quite flushed.”

“W-Water would be nice, thank you.”

Not realizing your legs had felt like jello, you managed to hobble your way over to the couch where you took a much needed seat. Your hands were still shaking a bit but perhaps it was just from the lingering nerves. The atmosphere really was soothing thanks to the dimmed lights that gave off a warm and soft glow; casting the perfect amount of shadow over everything. You were pretty sure you were smelling lavender and it was a comforting scent for sure.

“Here you go, love. Just try to relax. I’m not here to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. But you looked like you needed to loosen up. Maybe someone to talk to?”

Softly thanking him for the water, you tried not to chug it back but it was hard given how shook up you were. Not to mention your face still felt pretty warm. Perhaps you would have been better off to just splash yourself in the face with it instead. Managing to take a couple gulps without looking silly, you held the cup in your lap before looking over at him with guarded and curious eyes.

“So.....we just sit here and talk?”

“If that’s what you’re comfortable with? I’m at your service. Your wish is my command as the saying goes.”

His soft chuckles filled the room and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling a little. Were all strippers this chill? Now that you thought about it, what made strippers different from anyone else? It wasn’t like they were some kind of exotic creature. They too were just normal, every day humans making a living. It wasn’t like they were a different kind of species.

Maybe this would be okay after all.

“So......you’re not here to give me a lap dance?”

“Oh my god! You’re so cute! I can’t!”

You watched in utter amazement as Jungkook, who had since been siting next to you on the couch, started to curl in on himself while he laughed; carefully holding his glass of whatever alcohol he was drinking in one hand while his other wrapped around his waist. Pouting and semi folding your arms due to the fact that you were still holding a glass of water, you mumbled in your own defense,

“What?! It’s a legit and reasonable question!”

Still pouting while watching and waiting for him to pull himself together, you decided to distract yourself with your glass of water. At least the blush in your face was letting up. Did that mean you were already getting comfortable with him? This guy.......He was like magic in that way. Knowing exactly what you needed to feel comfortable and relaxed. Then again.....he probably did this with everyone he brought back here. You suddenly felt the need to stand rather than sit on the couch.

“I swear, we’re only here to do whatever you want. So if you want a lap dance, I can do that. If you want to just sit here and chill, I can do that too.”

“But......why me? You had tons of other girls out there to pick from to bring back here. So why pick me? Clearly I’m an awkward turtle. Doesn’t exactly scream sexy.”

It was a fair question. A question that you were eager to have an answer for. Watching him closely, you noticed he was rubbing his chin in thought as if he was trying to find the right words to explain his reasoning behind bringing you back here. With a soft hum of said thought, Jungkook took a sip from his glass before replying casually while meeting your eyes,

“I guess you just looked.....lonely? Lost? You looked like you needed this. Clearly you didn’t come to a strip club by choice or at least not entirely. I could feel your tension clear across the stage. I was going to offer you a massage but I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Okay well that was fair. You couldn’t help but notice how good he was at reading people. Or perhaps you were just simply an open book. Yeah. It was probably that. You had often been told by everyone in your family that you carry your heart on your sleeve and your emotions along with it. Just as you were mentally scoffing at said family, Jungkook’s voice once again broke through your thoughts.

“Tell me, cutie, if it’s not too personal or prying to ask, when’s the last time you got laid?”

Well so much for that fading blush of yours. Granted, you knew you didn’t owe him an answer. Your sex life was your business and no one else’s. However....there was just something about Jungkook that made him easy to talk to. He gave off this aura of comfort and made you feel like you could tell him anything. With your cheeks still rosy and your ears just as red, you timidly sipped from your water again before mumbling in shame,

“Too long ago.”

But rather than laugh at you again, he offered you a sympathetic, lopsided smile; his eyes full of understanding and a small nod to go with it. You were grateful that he had picked up on the topic being a sensitive one for you and therefore respecting your feelings and not wanting to hurt you by poking fun. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he set his glass down on the side table that was on his end of the couch.

“Well, to be frank, I’m more than willing to give you a lap dance if you think it’d help you relax and unwind. I personally think it’d be good for you. You’ve got too much pent up tension there and I think we’re both in agreement when I say everyone needs a good release every once in awhile.”

Was he inclining what you thought he was inclining???

“You mean you want to have sex with me?”

His soft snort of laughter made you pout once more while you subconsciously tried to fan your face. Sure the lighting was dim in the room but was it doing anything to hide your raging blush? With a soft and warm smile, Jungkook couldn’t help but shake his head at you in fond amusement. You really were the cutest. Dramatically raising his hands as in defense or surrender, he said casually,

“All I’m saying is, that I’m more than willing to make you cum, pretty girl. You really look like you need a good release. I have no doubt you’ll feel better afterwards. I’ve been told I have the golden touch.”

Despite your lingering embarrassment, you weren’t too far gone to roll your eyes at his overflowing humbleness. But now you had a decision to make. Clearly Jungkook was a safe guy to be around. He wasn’t some crazy trying to rape you or anything. Or at least you were pretty sure he was a decent guy with a straight head on his shoulders. Absentmindedly nibbling on your bottom lip, you took a moment longer to think about it.

“So......how exactly do you give me a lap dance? Do I sit in a chair or something?”

Gosh you were absolutely adorable. Precious, even. Jungkook swore that if you got any cuter, he was going to have to retire and ask you out on a date. Or at least ask for your number and maybe meet up for coffee. Did you like coffee? You probably did. You looked like a coffee drinker. He wondered what your favorite drink was. Mentally shaking his head and focusing on his job once more, he smiled with his eyes sparkling in warm amusement before saying casually,

“It all depends on what you’re comfortable with, really. I can also easily give you a little show on the bed. Actually, the bed would probably be more comfortable for you.”

He then added with a slightly more serious tone,

“But if you do decide this is something you want to do, just remember that you make the rules in this too. While I have my own set of guidelines, I’m only here to do what makes you comfortable.”

Nodding in full understanding, you bit your bottom lip once more as you decided if this was something you really wanted to go through with. Jungkook really was a handsome young man. You’d probably be stupid to turn him down. And it seemed like he was allowing you to call most of, if not all, the shots in this. He would only do what you asked of him. What you permitted him to do. That alone was comforting enough for you to say----

“So the bed?”

“The bed. Make yourself comfortable, baby girl. I’m gonna take good care of you. Promise.”

Your face flushed pink yet again with a small, shy pout as he flashed you a bright smile and cheeky wink. Good lord you were really going to do this. Okay. Okay. You could do this. You needed this. It wasn’t like you were entirely blind. Of course you needed a good release but you had just never been given the right push to get there. Not to mention it had never fit into your daily routine.

After all, you were all about the routine.

Perhaps Jungkook would become part of that daily set schedule of yours....

“It’s okay to keep your clothes on but you might find yourself more comfortable if you take them off. Just saying.”

He had a point. You were already warm thanks to your permanent blush. This was it. Time to throw all caution out the window and just go for it. You weren’t a teenager having her first time. No. You were a young woman with a body to be proud of. You deserved this. Steeling yourself up with that confident mindset, you nodded and started to undress till you were left in only your black bra, matching panties, and your stockings.

Seeing that you had started to warm up to the idea and was becoming more comfortable with things, Jungkook decided it was his cue to finally get into character while being mindful of your shy nature. He felt like a lion and you were his little lamb. So pure and yet easily frightened. There was just something about you that spoke out to him. He wanted to help you. And that urge confused even himself.

“Okay, beautiful, I’m going to start now.”

With his hands reaching back for his light sweatshirt, he couldn’t resist adding with a smile and a bit of a warm and playful glint in his eyes,

“You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way. Keep those stockings on too.”

While mumbling a soft and shy thanks, you watched him as he did that super hot thing guys do when taking off their shirt. That thing where they magically tug the piece of material over their head from the back. Why was it so hot, anyway?? Was that just something every woman came to accept? It must have worked on you because Jungkook’s soft chuckles filled the room once more. Looking up into his eyes, you noticed he was rather smug and pleased with himself.

“Like what you see, cutie?”

“Well----I mean----You have a nice body. So yeah. I guess I do.”

You hated how choppy your sentences sound but it was like this guy knew how to turn your brain into absolute mush. You were already like putty in his hands and he had only taken his shirt off with those sweatpants hanging perfectly from his hips. Perhaps you really did need to get laid....

Just then, you watched as he started to swivel those very hips in a way that had you involuntarily gulping and pressing your thighs together. The last thing you wanted to do was make a mess of this bed. But then again.....perhaps that was part of Jungkook’s plan for you. He said he wanted to make you cum, after all. You hadn’t realized your throat and lips were so dry till you sucked in a breath at a particularly sudden hip thrust. Oh wow. He was so good!!

You definitely made the right decision to go along with this.

“Touch yourself if you need to, baby girl. It’s okay to explore.”

“I-I’m good. Just ke-keep going-ing.”

You could get used to his warm chuckles of amusement. It felt good to know that he wasn’t really laughing at you in a sense of mocking you. It was more like.....maybe he found you endearing? Whatever it was, you were just glad he wasn’t mocking you or belittling you for your lack of experience in all of this. Despite being a stripper, that certainly didn’t make Jungkook a bad guy.

You could actually see yourself sitting down with him over a cup of coffee. You wondered if he even liked coffee? He seemed like the kind of guy that you might find in a cafe sipping on a nice iced Americano.

“Focus, baby. Try not to let your mind wander or you’ll miss all the fun.”

He must have realized you were really zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts because after blinking mental images of coffee shops away, you nearly choked when you saw that he had stripped away his sweatpants and was left standing in front of you with nothing but his boxer briefs on. Dang he was built! He had to be pure muscle. Had to be!

Unknowingly licking your dry lips and swallowing a new lump in your throat, you decided to make yourself more comfortable by scooting back further onto the bed where you could rest your back up against the pillows and headboard. Once you were in a good spot, you turned your attention back to Jungkook and found he had somewhat of a dangerous smirk on his face. Oh boy....

“You really do look beautiful, baby girl. I can’t wait to take care of you like you deserve. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Not able to find your voice, you simply nodded while subconsciously playing with your fingers in your lap; thighs still pressed tightly together. Grinning, the male made sure to move his hips just right as he approached the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help but wonder what his game plan was to take care of you. And that was when he tilted his head to the side in curiosity and asked in a light tone,

“May I join you, lovely?”

“Ye--Yeah.”

“Wonderful. Let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

Still not having much of a voice, you simply nodded and watched him approach you like a predator after his prey. That smirk was back as he slowly climbed onto the bed; the mattress dipping under his weight. You could hear your own heart pounding in your ears as the anticipation built. This was your last chance to back out but for some reason you remained silent. Perhaps you really did want this.

The next thing you knew, he was gently running his hand along your one leg while his lips were ghosting up the other. Goosebumps rose from your skin at his touch and yet your core was starting to get hotter and hotter. Perhaps Jungkook really did have the golden touch? You felt your breath catch when he finally started planting actual kisses to your leg; starting with your knee. He was being so gentle and slow. Something that you were extremely grateful for.

“Your skin is super soft, baby. You must take really good care of your body. I can appreciate that in a woman.”

“Th--Thanks. I try.”

Jungkook knew you were extremely nervous despite your agreement to go along with this so he wanted to take things slow and sort of ease you into the whole idea of what he had planned for you. As he finally reached up to your thighs, he couldn’t help but playfully nip at the delicious skin that greeted him. Your little yelp and jump was so cute. With his head nearly resting on your thigh, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance up at you.

Your face was so red and you knew it was. Hardly anything sexy to look at but to Jungkook you were so precious and endearing. He could just eat you right up. Lucky for you that was exactly his plan. Planting a soothing kiss over his little bite mark, he then moved up to where he was eye level with your cleavage but still looking up at you with eyes dark while full of excitement and curiosity. Licking his lips, he asked,

“May I?”

Upon seeing your timid nod of approval, he smiled more warmly before moving his eyes to his latest target. You had really nice breasts from what he could tell. Just the right size, too. Not being able to help himself any longer, he moved till he was more comfortable on his knees and gently took one of your soft mounds into his large hand. Oh yeah. You were soft. And just like that, a small moan fell from your lips. Like music to his ears.

“Don’t hold back, beautiful. I won’t know if I’m doing a good job if I can’t hear you.”

Knowing it was something you enjoyed, he decided to give your other breast his attention as well by using his free hand. With both palms now happily occupied as they slowly massaged your supple mounds, he couldn’t help but let his lips wander. Their next target? Your neck. He briefly wondered if it was a sensitive spot of yours because it would definitely seem your breasts were sensitive. He rolled his thumbs over your nipples and could feel them harden through the fabric of your bra.

“So beautiful. I bet your tits are absolutely divine. Would you let me see them, baby girl?”

You shivered and released a shaky moan as his lips lightly brushed up against the length of your neck. His hands were amazing and he had hardly touched you. There was a small voice in the back of your head that was screaming at you to say no. That this guy was still a complete stranger and had no business seeing your tits. However, this stranger was also making you feel things you didn’t realize you needed or wanted.

“Ye--Ye---Yeah. You can.”

Being careful as if not to frighten you away, he removed his hands from your bosom so that he could slowly and gently reach around you to unclasp your bra. While his deft fingers worked on the clasps, his lips found their way to your neck once more where he started planting soft, open mouthed kisses. Once he freed you from the confines of your bra, he slowly dragged the straps down your arms before taking the thing off completely.

Tossing the black bra somewhere behind him, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight in front of him. You really were quite pretty and he wasn’t just talking about your tits. Although they were nice too. Absentmindedly licking his lips in eagerness, he couldn’t help but mumble,

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, my lovely. Do me a favor and lay down for me. I’m going to worship this body a little bit longer.”

Worship you? It just didn’t sound right to your ears. Then again, your self-esteem always did need a bit of work. Blushing to the point of lightly fanning your face once more, you nodded and timidly wiggled in between his legs so that you could comfortably rest your head on the pillows. Staring up at him with your eyes full of curiosity yet uncertainty, you asked shyly in a small tone,

“What are you gonna do?”

You poor thing. Had no one really ever treated you to something like this? And he wasn’t even going all out. For some reason, it really irked him at the thought that no man had ever truly took time to appreciate your body like this. However, not wanting you to think he was grumpy with you or having second thoughts, Jungkook wore a warm smile with softened eyes and spoke sincerely but with a hint of teasing in his voice,

“Well since you look positively delicious, I was thinking of eating you.”

Not giving you time to respond, he added slowly while his lips drew closer and closer to your bosom,

“First, I want to suck on these pretty tits of yours. Then.....”

You watched with a slightly heaving chest as he gracefully crawled down your body till his lips were just centimetres away from the waist line of your panties. His intense staring of your core was making you squirm and a soft whine slipped out before you could bite your tongue. His grin suddenly came back as his eyes flickered to make direct contact with your own.

“Then I’ll eat you out like you deserve. You’re a goddess and that’s how I intend to treat you.”

The next thing you knew, words were flying out of your mouth on your own accord.

“Can we just skip the tits and you eat me out now? I don’t think I can wait any longer. It’s killing me to wait.”

It really had been forever since you last did anything. Whether it be at the hands of someone else or yourself. You were quickly getting used to the permanent blush on your face and your embarrassment was quickly being replaced with impatience as you stared down at him where he was perched between your legs.

Yep. He was going to retire, quit stripping, and sweep you off your feet; carrying you out into the sunset to live happily ever after. You were just too freaking cute for words. He liked them shy and innocent because then he could completely ravish them till they were ruined and begging for more. You were totally his type. Grinning like a fox, he teasingly gripped the waist line of your panties between his teeth and tugged only to let them snap back against your skin before saying in a low tone,

“Well I did say your wish was my command.”

It wasn’t till he was lifting himself up to rest on his knees and thighs that you realized just how worked up you had gotten. The sexual frustration was starting to get the best of you; especially as you were sobering up pretty quickly. Not having realized that you had spread your legs for him at some point in the game, you simply spread them wider so that he’d have plenty of room to do whatever it was he had in store for you.

That fox-like grin still on his face, Jungkook couldn’t help but lean back down onto his elbows so that he could gently nuzzle your chest before planting soft kisses around your nipples. You were torn between whining and moaning as you both enjoyed the touch but also grew all the more impatient for where you really wanted him. After releasing a soft groan of pleasure, you couldn’t help but gently tug on his soft locks in warning while saying in a whining tone,

“Jungkoooook. Stoooop. You said you’d eat me out now!”

His rock hard body shook gently against your own as he chuckled at your adorable display of impatience. He was pleased to see you finally letting go and allowing yourself this moment. It had been a task and a half, but he finally got you here. Planting one last kiss to the underside of your breast, he slithered down your body like the seducing snake he could be and finally started planting kisses down your stomach to the waist line of your black panties.

“I’m sorry, love. But I can’t help myself. You’re just too beautiful not to admire.”

However, playtime was over. Gently tapping your thigh, he gave you the cue to lift your bum so that he could slip off your panties more easily. With a blink of an eye, you were left with nothing but your stockings which Jungkook had insisted you keep on because it made you look all the more sexy to him. You couldn’t tell if his compliments were sincere or not but you were so wound up that you didn’t really care at this point.

“God you look absolutely delicious. I can’t wait to taste you, baby girl.”

His words made your walls clench around nothing and it only caused more slick to pool between your thighs as Jungkook had since gotten himself more comfortable between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. Gosh he was so muscular. You could see his muscles bulge as he worked on positioning you right where he wanted you. You both licked your lips as eyed each other with equal amounts of hunger.

You watched him lower his head before feeling his tongue for the first time. Eyes instantly snapping shut, you felt your back arch off the bed and a moan fall from your lips. Yes. Jungkook not only had the magic touch, but he had the magic tongue. You were certain of it. The male gently dug his shortened nails into the meat of your thighs as he too let out a moan of his own. You tasted just as wonderful has he imagined you would.

“God, babe. You’re delicious. You’re spoiling me here. Where have you been all my life?”

“I-I d-d-du-dunno.”

Your thighs started to shake when you felt his tongue flick over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Maybe it was because someone else was touching you but not even your most expensive vibrator could make you feel this good. Needing something to ground you, your hands found their way into his mess of hair and you found yourself gently tugging on the soft locks that lay between your fingers. The action made Jungkook moan and you felt the vibrations with full force.

The male enjoyed having his hair pulled despite how dominate he naturally was. He considered hair pulling one of the many signs that he was doing a good job and that was something that had always been important to him. He enjoyed making others feel good. One of the few reasons he hadn’t quit his job as a stripper. But there was something about you.......He just couldn’t place it.

You really did taste amazing, though. His eagerness was more genuine than for show. Wanting to increase your pleasure, he pressed his face harder into your core, his nose buried in your scent while his tongue got to taste you to the fullest. You were so warm and wet. Jungkook could only imagine how you’d feel around his cock. Which had since grown hard within his boxer briefs. Gosh it was always the cute and shy ones that turned him on the most.

As he went back to teasing your clit and sucking it with hunger, he heard your moans coming to a halt as you half shouted in a desperate tone,

“Jungkook-----I want your cock! Please! I need you in me! Now!”

Well that escalated quickly.

However, he wanted to make absolutely sure this was something you wanted. Pulling his face away from your core, he looked up at you through his eyelashes with eyes that had grown dark with lust. Yours too were just as dark which was a huge contrast to the innocent shine they had shown only moments ago. You suddenly weren’t so shy and definitely not innocent.

You were a total wreck at this point. Your mind was a mess but you knew what you wanted. You had long sobered up from what few drinks you had and you knew this was something you wanted. Something you needed. It had truly been awhile since you last experienced an orgasm and you were long overdue for one. Jungkook, stranger or not, was your ticket to release and nothing was going to stand in your way.

Not even your routine.

“Please, Jungkook. Please.”

“Easy, baby girl. I’ve got you. I’ll take really good care of you.”

Releasing your legs and climbing off the bed for just a moment, he could feel your eyes on him as he fished out a condom from one of the side drawers. You were so wrecked and it was a beautiful sight. Your eyes hooded with your chest heaving. He had hardly touched you. Poor thing, you must be really sensitive.

Climbing back onto the bed, he made quick work of ripping the package and rolling the condom onto his rock hard length. You really did turn him on. Normally, he had to work himself to full mast but you being you.....it was no problem. Perhaps you yourself was magic too. Given his line of work, it wasn’t often he found a client who could turn him on as much as you did.

“You’re going to feel so good around my cock, baby girl. You sure you don’t want me to stre-----”

“No! Please! I’m good. I promise. Just hurry! Want you so bad!”

Jungkook had no doubt that you could have quite the dirty mouth on you if you were to let yourself go far enough. It was almost hard to believe that just mere moments ago, you were this shy young woman who wouldn’t dare do something so scandalous as having sex with a stripper. Yet here you were, desperate under his touch. He loved it. Thrived in it.

The lion had his little lamb right where he wanted her.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer, he made himself comfortable between your legs once more before aligning himself with your sopping entrance. You were so beautiful with your face all flushed and chest rising and falling at a slightly rapid pace. Your soft locks sprawled all over the pillow. So so pretty. And all for him. Trying to focus, he slowly eased himself forward till he could feel the tip of his length nudge your entrance. God you were so warm. He could only imagine how wonderful you’d feel once he was fully inside you.

“You’re so freaking tight, baby girl. It really has been awhile, huh?”

“God too long! Too long! Please! Ruin me, Jungkook!”

He knew it. You could be a dirty little girl if you’d just let yourself loose from your own leash. He certainly hoped this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you saw each other. You were a real treat in his book. A treat he wanted again and again. Someone he could easily become addicted to being around if you’d let him.

He could feel your velvety walls clenching around him as you were stuffed full for the first time in a long while. Not wanting you to go into some sort of shock, he gently rubbed your sides with his warm hands in soothing, repetitive motions. Leaning down, he gently planted kisses along your face. Just anything to take your mind off the slight sting he knew you’d feel.

“Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths. You’re right here and I’m not going to let anything hurt you, okay?”

“Ss-s-so full.”

“I know, baby. I know. Bet you’ve never had cock this good, huh?”

“Ne-Never. Never ever. Ss-so good.”

You were already ruined and he hadn’t even moved. You poor poor thing. Depriving yourself for so long of something so good. Well he was going to make sure you didn’t miss out any longer. Feeling your body ease up from underneath him, he took that as a silent signal to start moving his hips. God you felt so good around him. His length involuntarily twitched what little it could while being buried inside your warm wet walls.

“You feel just as good, babe. So warm and tight. Just the way I like it. You were made for me, baby girl.”

Your moans filled the room along with his own as you found your arms wrapping around him to gently dig your nails into his muscular back. You needed something to hold onto despite his slow and easy pace. While you appreciated him taking things slow......you had long since grown impatient. Testing the waters since you really hadn’t done much yourself, you bucked your hips at just the right time so that they collided with his own.

Yeah. That felt good.

With a soft growl of pleasure, Jungkook found himself staring heavily into your eyes as he said in a low and slightly threatening tone,

“Ooohhh. So baby girl likes it rough, does she? Well two can play at this game. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Oh boy.....

And just like that, the male pulled out of you only for him to flip you over onto your hands and knees. All the sounds you could make were soft yelps of surprise before suddenly feeling him ram his hips into yours; successfully sheathing himself deep inside you once more. The action alone caused a loud moan to fall from your lips as you hung your head; body slightly shaking with overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes! Yes, Jungkook! Please! More!”

“Greedy little lamb! So eager for my cock. Gonna absolutely ruin you! Fuck you so good you’ll forget your own name and only remember mine!”

The room became filled with your moans along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as Jungkook pounded into you from behind; his hands gripping your hips till he left marks. You had never been with someone who was so strong. His movements were so powerful that he was making the bed shake as well as yourself. Your moans came out shaky from how he managed to move your body with his powerful thrusts. You then felt him drape himself over your back.

He reached around you so that one hand could massage your breast and play with your nipple while his other hand slithered down to where he found your clit. It had already been a challenge for you to stay on all fours when he started ramming his hips into yours; let alone when he started feeling up your weak spots. God you had no idea you were so sensitive till Jungkook came along. It was like he already knew your body like the back of his hand.

“Jj-Ju-Jungko-oo-ok. I’m cl-cl-close!!”

“Already, baby girl? Surly you can last a little longer till I get there, hmm? Can you wait for me, beautiful?”

Normally, he could care less when his clients came. Sometimes, the sooner the better. But with you? Jungkook was just having way too much fun and you really did feel amazing. However, there was also that little nagging voice in the back of his head whining about how he didn’t want to let you leave. There was so much he wanted to ask you. Hell, he wanted to get to know you. Which he still hadn’t figured out why. Maybe you were just an easily likable person?

Your moans were even cute as you let out all your pent up sexual frustration. However, his strength must have gotten the better of you because he watched your arms finally give out from under you. Acting quickly, he used his own arms to lift you up so that you were leaning back into him; the both of you now on your knees.

With his nose buried in the crook of your neck, he began to place sloppy kisses to your heated skin while an arm wrapped around your chest; massaging your breast while that other hand went back to work on rubbing figure eights into your clit. He could feel your thighs shaking and quivering as he slowly but surely brought you to your end. He could tell you were close from the way your walls clenched around his length repeatedly.

Then you surprised him by reaching back behind the both of you to try and grab at his ass. Well well well. We’re you getting a little brave? He couldn’t help but smile against the expanse of your neck before gently biting down on the skin and sucking it gently; leaving his mark for you to remember him by tomorrow.

“Jungkook!! Please!! Please let me cum!!”

“Go for it, baby girl. Cream all over my cock. Be a good little lamb and cum for me.”

Definitely not needing to be told twice, you could feel the knot in your lower belly finally snap and your release hitting you like a tidal wave. It was so easy and natural for you to scream out his name as your body arched and shook against his own. You were so lost in your bliss that you didn’t realize he had a protective hold on you while he too found his own end; releasing into the condom. Shame you couldn’t have felt him fill you up instead.

The only sounds filling the room were the soft music coming from Jungkook’s phone along with both of your heavy breathing. You could feel his heart pounding against your back as you had to lean against him for support; thankful that he was still holding you up. However, it wasn’t long till he gently pulled himself from you entirely before easing you down onto the mattress like a real gentleman.

“Let me go dispose of this and get a wash cloth to clean you up, okay baby?”

Still floating on your cloud bliss, you simply nodded your head against the pillows while hearing him chuckle once more. You felt like dead weight but it was a good kind of feeling. Whew. How much tension had you really held inside you for all this time? You had no idea how badly you needed this. Sex with a complete stranger. Who would have thought this was how you spiced up your life and broadened your horizon.

Just as your eyes were about to close completely, you heard him come back and ask casually,

“So are you a coffee drinker?”

[littlebookreader]

Ego ne hic quidem

This has two parts: Information and the fic itself. For slightly easier accessibility, I will put both in this post itself.

Some information first:

Summary: Fleet looks for a missing cat. (For the Tueday prompt ‘Favourite Main Character’ of the Victoriocity Appreciation Week 2021. Takes place a week after ‘SMS Brandenburg’. )

Fandoms: Victoriocity(Podcast)

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen, F/M

Word count: 912 words

Characters: Inspector Archibald Fleet , John Balmoral, Edward Sandringham, Clara Entwhistle, Mrs. Pomligan (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Missing kitty, tumblr info makes its way into this(for some reason), Sanmoral being actually useful in this, the wheel and paper becoming friend will also pop up later, shipping if you use a fine tooth comb, can’t really think of much else, author regrets everything, no beta we goose chase like Fleetwhistle, here you go

@victoriocity-appreciation for the Favourite Main Character.

Part 2 of Love, Actually.

This was the information. For the rest of the fic, it’s all under the cut.

Fic: 

Running a new detective agency with your partner can be quite the task, as Fleet was slowly beginning to learn. Over the course of the last week, he’d been dragged all across London to find the owner of brooch, more or less reduced his inhibitions about the Flying Circus, been switched off and kidnapped subsequently, and succeeded in taking down a nationwide spy ring. There was another little(major) worry he’d had, but he didn’t quite wish to think about it, right then.

Right then, he was a machination, a true marvel of science, set off to go find a missing cat.

He had made it something of a habit to reach the offices early, in case something truly threatening should cross his desk. Clara, surprisingly, had turned out to be something of a night light, and stayed the evenings, even wandering the area till as late as three in the morning.

Right then, this had actually worked out in her favour, so Fleet was left all alone hunting for a miniscule cat in a city that he could only describe as being larger than life.

“Come on, Archie, you can find a cat. Surely.”

“And I have no doubt, that you can.”

He jumped back, surprised, only to find that it was the team who’d dragged him into the mess that was the previous week, in the first place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off doing secret missions for the Queen and suchlike?”

Balmoral, was it, rolled his eyes, while Sandringham(Vidocq’s twin child, if he remembered correctly) smiled cryptically. “That’s for us to know, and you to never find out.”

“Hopefully,” he muttered. “Then if it isn’t for a mission, what EXACTLY are you doing here?”

“Oh, we just thought we’d say goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

“Yes, goodbye.”

“So, why do you have to find a cat?”

He shrugged. “For a client. It’s almost relaxing in a way, not having to deal with some nationwide conspiracy for once.”

The partners laughed, following which Balmoral added: “That’s there. I almost envy your simplicity, detective.”

“And your stupidity,” Sandringham snarked.

“I will have you know; I have almost found the cat.”

“Have you now?”

Fleet may have learned how to keep secrets over the years, but everyone he ever spoke to, generally agreed that he was a terrible liar.

“No, not really. I do not even know where to start!”

“Well, I used to own a tabby at university once-“ Sandringham nodded in agreement, as if remembering something fondly. “and she went missing for a bit, when I was in my final year. As if on a wild impulse, one day, I left out an old jumper that she loved sleeping in and some water in a bowl, where I’d seen her last. Three days later, I found her, sleeping in it, as if nothing had ever happened!”

Fleet gaped; he had to admit, this had never really struck him as a possible solution. Now that Balmoral had described it, practically pointed it out, really, he knew exactly where to start.  

“That-that actually makes sense, thank you!”

“Happy to help, detective.”

With that, the two left, while Fleet rushed off towards what had been the former location of the Tower, and made the preparations accordingly. As he began laying out the owner’s clothing, he heard footsteps approaching.

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m late, Augusta had this whole incredible assignment about a wheel and a paper becoming friends- What are you doing?”

“Oh, we had a client today who lost her cat. This is how I plan to find her.”

“Looks fascinating, let’s hope it works!” She paused, then added, “I thought I’d find you here actually.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Well, it’s where the Tower used to be. I would understand if….” She trailed off, letting her concerns hang in the air.

“Ah, don’t worry too much about it.” He continued to work, while he talked, though there was something about Clara’s very presence that seemed to speed the entire process along. He couldn’t quite explain what, but it wasn’t…….unpleasant, exactly.

He finished the set-up, looked up at her and asked, “Should we leave?”

“Absolutely.”

Neither quite had the heart to hire a cab, so they walked back to the coffeehouse, where they would resume their work.

“There’s actually a reason why I went looking for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. Clara hadn’t seemed all that worried when she first arrived….or had he simply failed to notice? “What was it?”

“Er, I think it’s best if you just saw for yourself.”

She flipped through her notebook, a new acquisition, and pulled out a small piece of paper, neatly folded in the pages. “I found this slipped under our door when I reached the offices. What do you think it means?”

He blinked at the words, scrawled across in a neat cursive. Ego ne hic quidem. “I-I’m afraid my Latin is rather poor, Clara.”

She looked back at him, unimpressed. “I know what the phrase means, Fleet. I’m not even here. It’s what I said to you when we visited the crime scene and you didn’t want me to keep interrupting. How would they know?”

He pursed his lips, realization slowly dawning on him. “Someone is watching us. If we don’t find out who, and fast, it could mean trouble.”

They looked at each other, then quickly raced back downstairs to ask Mrs. Pomligan what she knew about the note, and who might have delivered it.

[cantuscorvi]

It's just an out of town trip, he said. It was nothing extravagant, he told her. There was no purpose of her being there because she was going to be bored, he warned her. Though, leaving her at home alone the whole weekend was probably his biggest mistake. Since, if she was bored with Raum she would not cause any trouble. All alone? Who was going to stop her?

Looking at her phone, she glanced at the time and pursed her lips, he was at dinner with investors if she remembered right.

If she also remembered correctly...they did just go shopping. It was his way if apologizing to her. Which was nice and all but she was going to have to wait until he got back to even wear it.

But...maybe she did not have to.

The fact that she really took her so long to get ready and made sure that she looked absolutely perfect. Even going as far as to making sure that the lighting of the room looked on point. Solomon watched her walking back and forth until she finally was all set up. Standing in front of the mirror she adjusted the lace so it would be at the maximum frilliness. Bright white standing out even on her ivory skin, as she fixed the bow of her collar. The cherry on top was the cat ears on her head that matched just so perfectly.

Raum had more of an affection for birds, maybe he will make an exception for this.

After a few shots, she finally settled on a favorite where the line of her body was a perfect curve. Fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties, and the garters following the line of her thighs and legs in a enticing way.

💖 daddy. 💖: okay, but look how cute i am right now? 💖 daddy. 💖: and no one is here to appreciate it... 💖 daddy. 💖: whoops were you in the middle of something important??? 💖 daddy. 💖: i tooooootally forgot...not really...nah i knew!!! (´꒳`∗) 💖 daddy. 💖: just wanted to show you what you were missing.

@technobratx

There was a perfectly valid reason that Raum didn’t invite Tim along for this trip. Because he knew from the outset that she would be bored out of her extraordinary little mind. 

Golf. They were sitting around after the meal and drinking, and talking about fucking golf. Something Raum despised with all of his being. The man across from him was bragging over some obviously fake hole in one story, and Raum laughed politely while he pondered grabbing the steak knife up from the dinner table and shutting him up with it. 

Thankfully, his more violent urges were interrupted by the quiet buzz of his phone in his pocket. Not his work one – instead a more welcome distraction. There were several messages in a row, and so he had an idea of just who it might be before he unlocked the screen discreetly under the edge of the table.

Blue eyes widened imperceptibly, staring down at the image she’d sent for as long as he dared without being noticed. Of course, he’d known that it would be more entertaining for him if he brought Timantha along – but the gift they had bought was something of an incentive for her to stay and wait instead. Seeing her in it now, all soft skin and inviting lace… Raum was regretting that rare, non-selfish decision immensely, and he was sure she knew it. The cat's ears however, Raum was sure he hadn’t bought them. Something she already owned? He didn’t mind the addition – it was a more personal touch, to know for certain it was Tim who’d gotten ready and excited herself over the details, had posed for him.

Finally he skimmed over the text underneath, a little smirk at the corner of his mouth in reaction to her message. After a moment or two, Raum began to reply.

[ TB ♟️ ] Impatient. If you’d waited to open it, I’d be there.  [ TB ♟️ ] Perhaps it’s better. I have more time to appreciate it like this instead of tearing it off right away. [ TB ♟️ ] Is that all you wanted? Or were you hoping I’d leave early?  [ TB ♟️ ] Should I show the others here the needy kitten I have waiting at home and hope they take pity on you?

[peppersonironi]

Batfam/Avengers Crossover Chapter One: Arrival

Yo, this has been on Ao3 for a while and people seem to really love it, So I thought I’d post it here! Chapter below the cut.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Gen Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Natasha Romanov & Damian Wayne, Clint Barton & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd, Characters: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Justice League (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Bat-Cow (DCU), Goliath (DCU), Selina Kyle's Cat Isis, Kate Kane (DCU), Duke Thomas, Additional Tags: Batbrothers (DCU), Avengers Meet The Batfam, MCU/Batfam crossover, Crossover, no beta we die like robins, rated T for Jason's language, I bleeped it out though. Just to be safe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon? What's canon?, Deaf Clint Barton,Deaf Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Birdflash and joyfire are implied/referenced,

Summary:

The Avengers find themselves in an alternate universe where none of them exist. Instead, there is a different group of heroes: The Justice League. They decide to work together to get the Avengers home. But not not everything is instantaneous, so the Avengers need a place to stay. The only place available is Wayne Manor.

Que Batfamily shenanigans!

Multi-chapter fanfic, with some one shots that go along with the plot thrown in.

Notes:

This is my first time writing anything with the Avengers - especially a deaf!clint - and the Batfam, so I apologize if anything is doc. Constructive criticism is appreciated!

This is mainly comic DCU with Movie Avengers (Set after the first avengers movie, plus Spiderman, cause I can ;-)

Crack! Bang! There was a flash of blindingly bright light, followed by a huge explosion.

"Wha- where are we?"

Tony Stark looked over to Peter who had been the first to speak. Crap, the kid had come here too. But wherever here was, he did not know.

Tony, Steve, Hulk, Thor, Clint, Peter, and Natasha stood in a loose clump at the center of a smoking crater. The sky was cloudy  and dark, and they appeared to be at least five miles outside of a big city, judging from the buildings in the distance. There was also a highway filled with streaming cars a couple of miles to Tony’s right.

“This isn’t right,” He muttered, opening his faceplate. Where were the sunny tropical trees that housed the compound of Anagnorisis - weird name, he knew - who was some D-list villain who thought some slightly advanced tech made them a world-conqueror. But Tony was beginning to think that those guns were a bit stranger and more advanced than he had previously believed.

“Tell me about it,” replied Steve. “Any idea where we are? Was it some sort of teleportation gun that was shot at us? This looks nothing like the Amazon.”

Before anyone could speak, Tony received a notification. Multiple incoming objects were approaching, fast . With the exception of the second fastest, they seemed to be airborne. “Multiple incomings, perhaps hostile. Most are flying. And they aren’t missiles. I think people ? But -”

“Who are you?”

Suddenly the first object arrived, and Stark was right. It was a black haired man in a blue skin tight suit with a red “S” on it and a flowing red cape. It would look ridiculous if he wasn’t glaring daggers at the group while flying .

He was joined almost immediately by another man, this time wearing an all red bodysuit with a lightning bolt on the chest and cowl. He was not flying though. He stopped in front of them swinging his arms as lightning dissipated. He had run there.

Next came a woman dressed in the colors of the american flag, with golden cuffs, tiara, and lasso by her side. She came with a man in a green, white, and black skin tight suit with some sort of symbol - perhaps a lantern? - on his chest. He also wore a green ring and black domino mask with white lenses on his face. They were both joined by another, a split second later. This was by far the strangest arrival. He was completely bald, with green skin and red eyes. He wore navy blue pants and cape, with only a red “X” over his chest. All three were floating.

“Who are you?” The blue and red man repeated.

Tony scoffed. Was this guy serious? “We’re the Avengers, obviously.”

The group shared a look. “Is that some new kind of villain group? I swear to all that is good and holy if I need to deal with another group who think they can rule the world, I. Will. Quit.” This time the man who spoke was the runner.

Steve replied, confusion clear on his face. “We’re not villains! We’re the Avengers; Earth’s mightiest heroes!”

Instead of coming to their senses, the strangely dressed newcomers laughed .

“You do realize you are speaking to members of the Justice League?” The woman spoke, her lips pursed.

“The who now?”

“Be quiet Kid, we don’t know what we’re dealing with.” Tony spoke to Peter. He was getting more worried by the second. Something was seriously wrong.

“Dealing with?” The green dressed man frowned, clearly suspicious of the Avengers. He started to fidget with his ring. “Well, since you don’t seem to know, let me enlighten you.” He gestured to each of his companions. “Superman, son of Krypton. Wonder Woman, Amazonian Princess. The Flash, fastest man alive. Martian Manhunter, well, a martian. And Me, Green Lantern. Member of the Green Lantern Core.”

Well, that explained everything. Not.

“We do not know you, strangers.” Thor spoke this time. “Perhaps you leave us be, our green friend over here gets frustrated easily.” He pointed to Hulk, who was breathing heavily.

The green man - martian, apparently - spoke for the first time. “Not until you tell us who you are and why you are in a smoking crater near His city.”

“His?” Clint clearly did not like the way the martian spoke of this character. To be honest, Stark didn’t either.

This got the most surprised reactions from the five. They looked at each other, and Tony could have sworn there was a hint of fear in their faces.

“Oh, He is so not going to like that.” Green Lantern said.

“Combined with the fact that we ditched Him.” The Flash cringed. Then looked worried again. “Yo, green grape, you okay.

The Hulk’s breathing was growing heavier, his face contorted into that of utter rage.

“Uh-oh,” Steve said.

“I . . . Not . . . GRAPE!” Hulk roared as he charged the The Flash who nimbly dodged. Superman went down to intercede, and just got punched by the Hulk. Though it did not seem to physically bother him, he was clearly angry.

Tony shut his face plate and moved forward, intending to stop the fight, but he only got attacked by the martian. Peter jumped forward to help, and soon everyone was fighting.

Thor was pitted against the Wonder Woman, and they seemed evenly matched.  Black Widow was against The flash, and despite his incredible speed she seemed to be almost winning. Both Hawkeye and Captain America were battling Green Lantern.

No one seemed to have the upper hand, which worried Tony. These people were tough. If they couldn’t beat them . . . he didn’t know what would happen.

Peter didn’t seem to share his worry though. He instead seemed to be having fun. Tony could tell the kid was smiling beneath his mask, and his body language screamed hyper and happy. He seemed to get that way whenever they fought together, and a small part of Tony was filled with a sense of parental pride.

The fight seemed endless, no one gaining traction. Until something incredible happened. Thor threw Mjolnir directly at his opponent, and instead of being knocked down like everyone else, she caught the hammer. Every Avenger - even the Hulk - immediately froze, catching the attention of the newcomers.

“This is a very well crafted weapon, though a bit clunky,” Wonder Woman said as she tossed the hammer from one hand to the other. She paused, seeing their reactions.

“You are worthy.” Thor spoke with disbelief and a tint of resignation in his voice.

“Pardon?” Superman spoke, his frown apparent.

“Only those worthy can lift Mjolnir - my hammer. She clearly can, which means that you are trustworthy.”

*****

Five minutes of somewhat confused conversation later, they had reached an uneasy truce. Neither spoke much at first, but they soon began to compare notes. Apparently They both believed themselves to be the protectors of Earth, which brought on a bout of argument before Peter stepped in.

“Woah hold on, calm down. Something is clearly up, so there’s no need to argue!”

Wonder Woman looked contemplative. “How old are you boy, you seem young.”

Peter bristled. “I’m 15, and I’ve been a superhero for a while now, so I’m not inexperienced!”

Green Lantern laughed. “That’s not what she met, kid. We aren’t going to tell you how old you need to be to fight crime. The amount of we work with, and some even younger than you . . .” He shook his head and laughed. Then he realised how he had sounded. “I mean, we don’t force them, it's up to each individual to make that choice for themselves. Well, with the mentor’s approval of course.”

Natasha furrowed her brows. “How young are some of these kids?” Tony knew she had a thing against child soldiers, so he wasn’t surprised she was disapproving.

Green Lantern looks to the Flash. “How old is Robin at this point? 9?”

Flash laughed. “Naw, that little devil is 11. He was very adamant on that fact when he threatened me with his katana.” He shook his head.

Green Lantern laughed. “Yeah, most of the others are teenagers. Robin is the youngest, and I’d say most deadly, but Red Hood . . .”

“The Dark Knight really does have a problem,” Flash said.

His last comment made Green Lantern freeze. They both looked at each other then turned to Peter.

“Kid, stay away from The Dark Knight.” Green Lantern says.

“Yeah, if He sees you, there’s no way you’ll ever leave.”

“He’s the most dangerous man on earth,” Green Lantern adds.

“Guys, stop. You’re scaring him.” Superman looks disappointedly at the two heroes who Tony pegged as the trouble makers of the group. This idea was further cemented in Tony when they started laughing. Despite this, he decided to keep Peter as far away from this supposed Dark Knight as possible.

“Speak of the devil, he’s on his way.” Superman says this with a smile, then he cringes. “And we’re going to get an earful alright. Ten minutes ahead of him is a big deal apparently.”

In a moment. Tony got an alert that something was approaching. Fast. Soon he saw a large black military type armoured car fly down the highway from the city and off the road. It zoomed toward them.

It was a sight indeed to see the menacing black car swerve and expertly stop a few yards from the group. The top opened and a dark form shot straight up before landing in a kneeling position in front of them. The figure rose, and Tony got the first good look at him. He was a tall man with a broad chest and shoulders, dresses in complete black. There was a bat-like symbol on his chest, also in black. He wore a cape that flowed around menacingly. His face was covered by a cowl with pointed ears, like that of an owl, or perhaps a bat. The only part of his costume that was not black was the dark gold utility belt at his waist. Altogether, he was utterly frightening.

Tony took a step forward, effectively blocking Peter, who scoffed.

“Batman,” Superman said, a smile on his face.

Batman fixed the most impressive and terrifying glare upon the man that Stark had ever seen. “You broke protocol by going ahead of me. You are in my territory Superman. And you know that I cannot fly or run at the speed of sound.” He fixed his glare on the rest of his group who all reacted with either flinches or sheepish shrugs.

Batman grunted before looking at the Avengers. He sized each of them up, staying longest on Stark. Tony felt as if his entire being was being stripped away under the scrutiny.

“Alternate Dimension jumpers, not by choice I’m assuming.”

He spoke so simply that it took a minute for Tony to react. Even then, the man was already on his way back to his car.

“We’re near Gotham, let’s regroup at the Cave.”

Tony didn’t know what this Cave was, but he wasn’t sure he liked it. “Are you the Dark Knight?” He asked, before he lost his nerve.

The man looked immediately at the Flash and Green Lantern, who looked both scared and amused. Their sheepish smirks and chuckles dissipated when Batman looked away and back to Tony.

“The Dark Knight, The World’s Greatest Detective, The Caped Crusader, The Batman. All are titles I have earned. See you at the cave.”

And with that he hopped in his car and sped off back toward the gloomy city beyond.

[lostinmirkwood]

Gendrya Kinktober Day 15- Costumes

Find on AO3 here.

Lommy had been begging them to come out for Halloween for weeks. He had promised to cover their entrance to the club if they made an appearance, in costume, and stayed for at least one drink. Hot Pie said he would bake them his famous bourbon apple cake the next weekend if they came out and stopped Lommy from whining about it. Arya agreed for the delicious cake, promising that she and Gendry would be there costumes and all.

So here he was, standing in their kitchen waiting for Arya to finish getting ready. He was wearing his work clothes from the day with the addition of his reading glasses and had styled his hair. Arya had laughed when he’d told her his uni Halloween standard but went along with it, even giving him a Superman shirt to wear under his button-up. He could hear her clattering around their bathroom and half-jokingly shouted, “Fifteen more minutes and I legally don’t have to go!”

“Liar!” came her reply, “it’s not like you’ll turn into a pumpkin at midnight! Besides,” he could hear her coming down the hall, “I’m done. Just need to grab a few things from my bag.”

She turned into the kitchen and Gendry’s heart stopped as he took her in. She was wearing a navy jumpsuit that hugged her lithe body and sturdy boots that gave her an extra inch of height. Her hair was braided into a crown around her head with a red and white polka-dot kerchief tied into a headband. Her lips though, her lips were painted a sinful, shining red. Gendry caught her around her waist as she went to step past him and pulled her to him. He dipped to kiss her, slipping his tongue into her mouth as he did. She gave a soft noise, hands briefly clenching at his shirt before she managed to step back with a grin and went to dig through her purse.

Pulling a few items out and placing them in her pockets Arya moved towards the door, before pausing and looking over her shoulder with a wink. “By the way Gendry,” she purred, “this lipstick is no-smudge but you know what they say,” she flexed her arm, lips stretching into a mischievous grin, posing for a moment like the classic poster her costume was modeled on, “we can do it!”

Gendry managed to unscramble his brain enough to check his phone, “Okay Rosie, our ride is here. I want to get this over with and come back to test that claim.”

---

The club was loud and crowded, costumed people in every direction. A Robin in a short green skirt was grinding on a Batman while two girls in tiny black outfits with cat ears were taking a selfie nearby. A tall woman in a tight red dress and a flaming crown eyed him appreciatively before Arya grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bar where a man dressed as a vampire with red and white hair was ordering a drink in a strange accent. He could see their friends waving at them nearby. Lommy and Hot Pie were dressed as Robin Hood and Friar Tuck respectively, holding three plastic cups between them that were smoking from the liberal use of dry ice by the bar. As they approached Lommy thrust a non-smoking plastic cup into his hand. Gendry gave the cup a glance before wrinkling his nose, saying, “It has whipped cream on it.”

“It’s pumpkin beer, be festive and drink it Clark Kent,” Lommy rolled his eyes. Gendry eyed it suspiciously before taking a sip. The whipped cream was weird but the beer wasn’t terrible. Arya had flagged down a passing waitress and was taking a lurid green test tube shot off the rack on her tray. As she finished it Lommy handed her one of their smoking cups and the group moved towards a table recently abandoned by a group of girls all dressed as Batman villains.

Arya let him finish his beer before dragging him out onto the dance floor. The pounding beat echoed in his chest as he pulled her in close to him, hands settling on her hips as they ground and swayed together. The flashing lights caught in her silver eyes when she’d tip her head to the side to look up at him, dark lips parted slightly. Her sensual movements against him encouraged his hands to wander a bit as they danced, the anonymity of the crowd spurring him on. One crept up the inside of her thigh briefly as the other caressed a breast before sweeping down her toned stomach to grasp her hip tightly. Arya pushed herself against him harder as they moved, grinding her arse against his growing hardness. She turned in his arms after a few minutes and tugged his face down towards hers. Whatever she was planning to say was lost for a moment as one of Gendry’s hands dropped to give her arse a squeeze and tug her up against him, grinding his erection against her waist while his mouth briefly plundered hers as they continued to sway to the music. Arya managed to disengage long enough to grab his hand and began tugging him towards a side hallway, eyes darkening rapidly.

They stumbled into the alleyway kissing frantically. The music from the club could still be heard faintly through the brick as Arya shoved Gendry against the wall, up on her toes to reach him as her hands fisted into his shirt. His hands kept moving from her shoulders to her hips, warm through the thin fabric of her costume before one settled tight on her waist and the other found its way into her loose curls and grasping her hair at the base of her neck. He tilted her head slightly to move his mouth from her red lips down her neck, nipping at her skin and feeling her pulse race as she panted into the cool night air.

Her hands loosened on his shirt, smoothing over his shoulders and down his arms to reach for his belt. Shaking fingers fumbled at his belt for a moment before releasing it, working at his button and fly next to give herself room to slide her hand into his boxers. Her small hand grasped his straining erection, giving it a slow stroke in opposition to their frantic movements moments earlier. Gendry growled into her neck at this. Her jumpsuit made it impossible for him to get at any intimate part of her without completely baring her to anyone who might step out the side door of the club. Arya’s painted grin up at him at his noise told him she knew that and he was at her mercy. She began to kneel when Gendry grabbed her shoulders and spun her to the brick wall, bracing his forearm above her, muttering, “I don’t want anyone to see you Arry. That’s for me alone.”

Arya’s heart raced at his possessive tone before moving back to her knees. Her fingers found their way under his shirt as she looked up at him before scoring her nails down his stomach and snagging on the elastic of his boxers. With a quick grin she snapped the waistband against his skin before tugging them down far enough to release his leaden cock. She rested one hand on his thigh, nails pricking slightly through his pants as her other hand stroked him a few times. Gendry groaned, dropping his head to his arm and running his free hand through her hair as she slowly began to lick and suck the tip of his cock. Her warm mouth was heaven around him , the contrast with the cool night causing him to shiver lightly. As she began to work him deeper into her mouth his hand in her hair tightened, not directing her movements but because he knew she enjoyed the sensation. Arya’s hand tightened around the base of his cock, using the slick she left behind to help work him over, stroking and sucking. She glanced up to see him staring down, eyes dark with arousal as he watched her kneeling before him.

The sight of her gazing up at him, those sinful red lips stretched around his cock, caused his hips to stutter, thrusting into her mouth before he could stop himself. “Sorry,” he gasped. Arya’s eyes squeezed in a smile before taking him as far as she could, enjoying his noises and the slight pump of his hips, the tip of him bumping the back of her throat. He growled, his grip in her hair tightened further as he began to hold her head still, beginning to fuck into her mouth. Arya moaned around his cock, hand still stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach, the vibrations spurring him on, bringing him near the edge, his balls tightening and electricity tingling up and down his spine in time with their movements. “Gods Arry,” he muttered, “you’re so fucking perfect. I’m close sweetheart, you’re so good for me. Can I come down your throat, love?”

Arya nodded as best she could, humming her assent with her mouth full. His blown pupils and rutting hips were making her squeeze her thighs together, her knickers soaked with her own arousal. It was rare she could get Gendry like this, without the immediate option to reciprocate. He’d be insatiable the moment they got behind a locked door. A few more thrusts then his grip on her hair became nearly painful as he held her in place growling quietly, his cock deep in her throat. His legs were shaking as she felt his cum shoot down her throat while she swallowed around him, hand on his shaft milking every drop she could from him. As he finished his hand in her hair softened and he began to gently stroke her head. She drew back and let his softening cock fall from her lips, both hands running up and down his shaking thighs.

Glancing up at him she grinned and wiped her shining mouth, her still-painted lips swollen and perfect. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to slow his breathing, the sight of her below him not helping to calm him down. When he felt her begin to move he reached down to help her to her feet, holding her close to steady her before dropping his head to her shoulder and groaning. “You’ll be the death of me, woman,” he mumbled into the fabric of her jumpsuit.

She smiled, “But what a way to go.”

She began to tuck him back into his pants, fondling him slightly more than necessary to enjoy the punched out sound he made before squirming away from her hands and fixing himself up. He tucked her into his side as they moved towards the side door they’d stumbled out of earlier. Gendry leaned down to press a kiss to her temple and whispered into her hair, “Just wait till we get home, I'm going to smudge that lipstick.”

[kda-chat]

10 Years Later Headcannon

In this headcannon, the K/DA girls are much older and further along in their careers. Respectively in this headcannon, Akali is 32, Kai'sa is 33, Ahri is 34, and Evelynn is 35 (give or take). This headcannon will mostly focus on K/DA girls (sorry non-Sivir extras).

At this point in the headcannon, K/DA is still present but not as active as before. However, K/DA has not disbanded. The girls have moved out of the K/DA house and are on their own but they are still present in each other's lives as if they never moved out.

XXX

Akali

As the youngest member in her thirties, Akali has shown considerable amount of growth in her art style. She has branched out to different genres of music from ballad, 90s music, rock, classical, and much more. Akali has taken time to travel the world to study music styles from different cultures, appreciating what each community has to offer. When Akali is not working on her music, she is aiding in raising and developing music and art programs for children living in underprivileged areas.

On the side, Akali scouts new and trying artists. When she sees a potential artist, she reaches out to help start their career, using her platform to promote their work. Sometimes the project fails, she's had a few bad apples, but most artists are successful and thriving on their own.

Akali still wears a signature hat but not as often as usual. She constantly has her hair up but also likes to keep her hair down. When she wears her hair down, she usually wears a beanie. She doesn't dye her hair as often, so it's back to her usual shade of black. Being married to Evelynn, Akali's taste in clothing has gotten expensive.

Speaking of marriage, Akali and Evelynn married way before Kai'sa and Sivir. They were quick to tie the knot and gotten backlash from "fans" saying that they were moving too fast. Regardless, Evelynn and Akali are happily married for more than seven years, growing stronger than ever.

As a married woman, Akali learned how to effectively communicate with Evelynn and work with her on equal terms. It took a while for Akali to overcome the inferior complex she had (because she was always raised in a hierarchy system ever since she was little). She constantly saw Evelynn as superior to her, which Evelynn assured her that they were equals. The two of them worked together to establish their equality and that it was okay for Akali to be selfish and self-indulge without Evelynn at times.

Evelynn

The Queen of the Tabloids relinquished her title. She is not in "scandals" or drama as much anymore. Fans notice how mature she has gotten over the past years. While Evelynn loved music, she focused her career in acting and has gotten a massive amount of respect in her work. She has been nominated for various awards and won a fair share of them. The type of movies she has done ranges from drama, action, and romance.

On the side, Evelynn is a business woman. She established her own company where she designs her own clothing, makeup collections, and purses. She often has charity events and sales where the money raised goes to organizations that help LGBTQ youths, women recovering from abuse, and many others.

Evelynn has grown out her hair nice and long, almost similarly to Victoria (my OC/Evelynn's mother). Her style of clothing hasn't changed much. She loves wearing tight fitting, expensive clothing, but being married to Akali, she started to wear more casual/baggy clothing as well (much to the dismay of the male gazes, boo hoo).

As a married women, Evelynn parties/attends parties less often and focuses on working on her and Akali's forever home. She has specifically designed the house they are living in, making sure it had what Akali wanted and what she wanted. A massive mansion with plenty of room for a village, Evelynn is already in the progress of filling it up. She has adopted a number of dogs, which Ahri hates because she doesn't work well with any kind of pets. Ahri is getting use to it when she visits.

Speaking of adoption, Evelynn has expressed her desire for children with Akali. It's a step that they are taking slowly, mostly for Akali's sake because she's nervous about becoming a mother. Evelynn is open to a surrogate (because succubus can't actually birth children like humans, there's a whole succubus/incubus lore about it.) or adoption. [Akali does not want to have the baby herself, which Evelynn won't push her to do.]

Despite Akali's hesitation with having a child, she has been reading up on "Raising Children" books, studying intensely. She does want to have a child with Evelynn after all.

Ahri

The immature and fiesty foxy has grown wiser over the years, shocking. Still dedicated to music, Ahri has released a number of hit singles and has been a judge on popular singing competitions. She continues her FOXY cosmetic business, jokingly saying she's competing with Evelynn's business.

When she's not working on music, Ahri works as an ambassador/executive director for Gumiho Organization, a special nonprofit organization for helping young children born with mythical powers, qualities, and/or characteristics (much like Ahri herself). With Evelynn's help, who supported the project, Ahri started this organization to help orphaned children that were left to figure out their unique abilites/identites/characteristic, find them homes, and provide them with an education that will help them in life.

Ahri keeps her hair short now, almost like how she did her prestige skin. It's just easier for her to manage. Ahri's style of clothing has turned more buisness like, wearing blazers and all. Her tails aren't crystals anymore, she missed her fluffy tails and wanted them back.

Ahri's relationship status is currently single. She has had a couple of partners that lasted for a few months. A year was the longest for Ahri. No permanent partner yet for her, but Ahri is more driven on working on her career than working on her love life. If worse comes to worse, Evelynn will begrudgingly make room in her mansion for Ahri to live with her and Akali.

In all seriousness, Ahri is considering adopting a kit child that she took an interest in. Nine-tailed foxes are rare to come by and this little one is the first one that Ahri seen since herself. Of Japanese origin, so they're called a kitsune, Ahri is seriously considering adopting this pup. The hesitation is because Ahri is worried that she might not be a suitable mother. It'll take Kai'sa and Evelynn's encouragement for Ahri to finalize her decision.

Kai'sa

Dancing is still a huge passion for Kai'sa and she has choreographed numerous of dance routines with major artists. She starred as the lead in a movie about a dancer dealing with mental health and the pressures of the dance competition/community, a story that is greatly inspired by her own life. The movie made a positive impact, especially for other dancers.

With the success of the movie, Kai'sa has managed and organized dance programs across the world, teaching a class when she's on location. Kai'sa has written a book about mental health, as well as making a documentary on how she handles her Void PTSD. In the dance community, she is nicknamed as "Kai'Queen" and she has signature dance moves that are nicknamed the "Kai Kai", "Bokkie Bokkie", and "Kai'sa sa Slide".

Kai'sa doesn't sport her purple hair look anymore. It is back to her usual chocolate brown hair. However, she loves braiding her hair and always has it in some unique style that looks like it has been blessed by the gods. Her clothing style hasn't changed much. She still loves leggings and is always down with a comfortable sweater to top it off.

Kai'sa and Sivir were patient with their marriage. With Sivir's status as the heir of Azir's fortune, it took a long time for Sivir to adjust to her new lifestyle while dealing with the public eye. Many haters claimed Kai'sa was dating Sivir for money, but true fans knew that wasn't true. They married much later than Akalynn, currently hitting their one year anniversary. They had a quiet wedding with close friends and family.

The two of them live together in a lavish home. Marriage has taught Kai'sa to rely on Sivir more, especially when she has bad sleepless nights due to bad dreams and insomnia, and that she isn't alone (she never was, but sometimes she gets in her head).

Kai'sa and Sivir adopted one large Alaskan Malamute and a Maine Coon cat. Ahri is fine with the cat, surprisingly. The dog...not so much.

In regard to children, Kai'sa and Sivir are considering adoption but Kai'sa also expressed a willingness to hold the baby herself. Nothing is final, but both women are anticipating a wonderful addition to the family in the near future.

XXX

Hope you enjoyed this headcannon. I had a lot of ideas for this, I do have more, but maybe I'll save them for next time. Feel free to ask if you want to know more. ❤❤