#i just like little kitschy magnets

[hazystars]

i really like that i have a mini fridge bc i get to put all the magnets & stuff i want on it

[serasvictoria]

Title: The Hair

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve returns from a roadtrip with Eddie with longer hair than usual and it really, really works for you.

Word Count: 8849

Content warning: 18+ only. Minors dni. Smut. Oral sex (f receiving). Vaginal fingering. Hair pulling (that one's a given). Swearing. Teasing. Overstimulation. Masturbation (m receiving). Nicknames (not a Y/N in sight). Reader is kinda shy at times, because you know… Steve.

Notes: This fic has been based entirely on those pictures of Joe in Finalmente L'Alba. You know the ones that I’m talking about.

Beta read by @adrille88 ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Robin’s cackle could be heard throughout the room. One hour in and she still thought that it was the funniest thing that she had ever seen.

“Yeah, Robs, I know.” Even though you couldn’t see Steve’s face from this angle, you could tell that he was rolling his eyes. “Very funny.”

“I can’t help it.” She collapses into another fit of giggles and slumps into Vickie’s side. “It’s just so long.”

And it was. Steve’s hair had gotten significantly longer during his time away and it had been the first thing that everyone present had commented on when they saw him during this little “welcome back” celebration.

Steve and Eddie had gone on a road trip when the latter had finally graduated, a small celebration for the boy who had ventured past state lines only once before when he had gone to Chicago, and they’d been gone for almost three months.

They kept in touch through postcards, most of which were stuck to Robin and Chrissy’s fridge with some of the ugliest kitschy magnets that you had ever seen, but none of the hastily scribbled messages on the cards ever mentioned anything about Steve’s current hair situation.

“Getting a haircut wasn’t that important,” Steve sighed, “but Jesus, I’ll get it done tomorrow if you keep acting like this.”

A harsh noise, a gasp of alarm, escapes from your lips and you don’t even notice that you’ve done it until you see that several eyes are on you. You try to save face by shrugging and turning your head away from Steve’s luscious locks, but when Eddie sniggers loudly you know that you had failed to make your small outburst look like it was nothing.

“Okay,” Robin says, eyebrows arched with obvious amusement. “Yeah, I guess you could do that, Stevie, but maybe hold off on it for a while? It might grow on me.”

“As long as you stop pulling my hair,” he mumbles under his breath, “it stopped being funny about an hour ago.”

“Yeah, to you,” Robin counters. “But not to me.”

Her hand reaches for his hair again, already grinning, not being particularly subtle about her intentions. Steve jerks away from her and suddenly they’re caught in something that would look like a minor scuffle to outsiders, but everyone that’s present knows that it’s more akin to a playful round of roughhousing between siblings.

“Careful, careful!” Chrissy calls out when they narrowly miss the second hand coffee table, almost spilling the drinks and snacks all over the floor. “It’s not like we can replace stuff if you guys break it.”

“Yeah, you ruffians, break it up.” Eddie materializes between the duo, coming to Chrissy’s rescue and making a T-shape with his hands to signify a time-out. Robin still manages to reach around him to give one final yank on Steve’s hair. “Fuck’s sake, Buckley. Don’t break the serious sanctity of the time-out.”

Robin barks out a laugh. “Oh, is that what it was? Thought that was the T of… the T of…”

While Robin was grappling to come up with a word that began with the letter T that could be applied to the current situation, you slipped into the small kitchen.

Maybe you would do better if you gave yourself a little time out from Steve’s, quite frankly mesmerizing, long hair.

It has been a few years since you had been this preoccupied with his hair. It was the main topic of conversation in high school after all, a source of desire and yes, envy for some, as well. Because a boy with hair that great? There were many girls that would have killed to have the same amount of volume and texture.

You were safely tucked into the desire camp however. How could you not be? Steve was gorgeous.

Is gorgeous.

There‘s no denying the fact that that stupid teenage crush that you had on him is still present. The only difference now is that your long friendship with Vickie has brought you a lot closer to Steve than you had ever been before.

When you hear movement behind you, you think that it’s her at first, coming to find you to gush about something funny that Robin had done or said in private, but when you hear someone who is distinctly male clear their throat instead, you realize that you have no such luck.

“What are you hiding out in here for?”

Your eyes go wide as saucers when you turn to face him and Steve actually holds his hands up in an attempt to look less threatening, making you aware of the fact that you must look terrified.

“N-nothing.” Your reaction was more down to being in extremely close vicinity to him, because of the size of the kitchen. There was barely any space between you already and he was only standing in the doorway. “It was just… a bit crowded?” You frown, because that wasn’t the word that you were looking for. “I mean, that’s not exactly what I-“

“Rowdy?” Steve offers up helpfully.

“Yes!” Your exclamation makes you cover your mouth with your hand, shocking yourself with your small outburst, and when Steve laughs, you can feel your cheeks heat up from the potential embarrassment. “But a fun rowdy? If that makes sense?”

“A bit,” he admits. “That’s just what me and Robin are like. We bring it out in each other I guess and the hair definitely doesn’t help.”

“N-no,” you stutter as your attention is brought to his hair once more and you can’t help but bite your bottom lip as you stare. “It’s definitely distracting.” You try to stop there, really you do, but you still end up blurting out, “In a good way.”

Groaning softly, you attempt to cover your entire face with your hand. If the ground could swallow you up right this instance that would be great. Naturally, that doesn’t happen, but when you peek through your fingers, you see that Steve hasn’t left. He’s merely standing there, arms crossed in front of his chest and his head is tilted to the side, his brow pensive as if he’s deep in thought.

Clearing your throat, you shake your head as if you could shake off the awkwardness from moments before. Your eyes dart to Steve’s hair again and his gaze turns more curious when he notices.

“Okay,” he finally says with raised eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“You,” he counters swiftly and you can see his brow furrow. He looks like he wants to slap himself. “I mean, your response. It’s pretty telling, you know.” Getting called out on your obvious attraction to him wasn’t something that you had been expecting, yet here you were, and Steve doesn’t look disgusted. If anything, he almost looks more interested. “And don’t try to deny it, I’m not an idiot.”

“Never thought you were.”

Sometimes people liked to point out Steve’s lack of intelligence, even back in high school because he didn’t really excel academically. The prevailing image of him being a dumb jock was ridiculous anyway. His grades were alright. Not top of the class, but he wasn’t at the bottom either.

They were above average most of the time, but when his grades dropped after Nancy broke up with him, everyone seemed to treat it as confirmation of what people had been saying behind his back all along. He still managed to pick himself up when exams rolled along, but it hadn’t helped sway opinion much.

It was an opinion that you did not share however.

Steve was smart. The information that interested him was just different. A conversation that he had with Lucas Sinclair on sports earlier only confirmed it.

Batting averages rolled off his tongue like they were nothing, even going as far as remembering what Wade Boggs’ average was back in ‘82. Name a Major League player and Steve would know exactly why he was better or worse than another player.

Same thing for basketball and ice hockey. You had even overheard him talking about volleyball once. Technically, it was women’s beach volleyball, but it still counted.

The only sports that Steve didn’t seem to care for were soccer and lacrosse. You highly suspected that the only reason that he didn’t like lacrosse was because his dad used to play it in college, apparently. That was a nice little piece of information that you had gained from Robin in Steve’s absence.

“True,” he smiles. “Don’t recall you ever saying anything about that.”

How he would know that was anybody’s guess, seeing how you must have been nothing more than another face in the school hallways, but you don’t question it. For a couple of seconds you even find yourself believing that he would have noticed you, however impossible that may seem.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Steve,” you smile back. The awkwardness has finally settled. Maybe you can actually be normal around him for once. “Anyway.” You turn back to the cans and bottles on the counter and make a sweeping gesture with your arm. “What’s your poison?”

“Think I’ll have-“

Steve treats your question as permission to step into the kitchen. Your breath catches in your throat, when he leans in closer, making you turn the front of your body to the counter. 

He eagerly takes advantage of this and puts his hand on your lower back. You feel his hand slide down, can feel his fingers flex as they settle right above the curve of your ass. His face comes into view next to you and he keeps his eyes on yours as his right hand reaches towards the cans blindly.

“-this one.”

“Apple Slice?” Tearing his eyes away from your face to look at the can that he was holding, his expression flashes to one of brief disappointment, which makes you snort in obvious amusement. He was clearly going for one of the cans of Blue Ribbon behind it, but that was not what he ended up with. You stifle a laugh and add, “Wow. Didn’t know you liked that stuff.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Steve opens the can and takes a sip, deciding to stick with his (accidental) choice. If it wasn’t for the fact that his nose crinkled in disgust, you might even have believed him. “I drink it all the time.”

“Sure you do.” You take the can of beer that he had his eye on and hold it out to him. “I’ll trade you.”

“Nah, I’ll pass.” He leans against the counter right next to where you’re standing. “I love this stuff, everybody knows that.”

“Sure they do,” you laugh. “That’s why you’ve been drinking it all night.”

“How would you even know what I’ve been drinking? You been keeping an eye on me?”

“What?” Your cheeks suddenly feel so hot that you swear that they’ve just caught fire. You hold the can against your cheek in the hopes of cooling yourself down, but the can’s lukewarm so it doesn’t help one bit. “No! Wh-why would I- I was just assuming, okay?”

The implication of his words were to poke fun at you, but you panicked all the same. You know what you wanted it to be, but there was no chance in hell that Steve Harrington was flirting with you.

No way. Impossible.

“Relax,” he replies, his voice softer suddenly as if he was doing his utmost not to spook you. “I was joking.”

You breathe a sigh of relief when he confirms it, calm setting in once more. Who knew that talking to Steve could have this effect on you. You would have liked to have been able to display a much cooler aura, but that persona seemed to have jumped out of you and ran for the hills the second that Steve came closer to you.

Not that you had ever been like that at all, but still.

“Do you want this or not?” you blurt out and you hold the can up just in case he thought that you were offering up something else. “Last chance.”

“Fine.” Steve takes it this time, your fingers brushing together when he trades cans with you. “But only because you were desperate.”

“I’m not-“ When Steve stifles a laugh, you turn your head in the opposite direction and find yourself staring at a grocery list that’s hanging on the old fridge. “Not funny.”

“Oh, come on. I couldn’t help myself, you’re real cute when you’re flustered.” You turn your entire body away from him, but you’re only doing it to hide your growing smile from him. “Seriously? You’re not talking to me?” You shake your head and he lets out a soft groan. “I was willing to give you my best puppy dog eyes, too.”

“Y-you were?”

“She speaks! But yes, I was.” You chew on your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying anything, because you don’t want to seem too eager. “In fact, I’m still going to do it. I think that you’ve earned it.”

When you finally turn around to face him once more, you’re subjected to the full force of his hazel eyes (looking every bit like he’d gotten private lessons from doe-eyed Eddie Munson), and his bottom lip is pushed out into a pout. He looks silly and adorable all at once.

“You look ridiculous,” you giggle. “Stop doing that.”

“No way,” he says with a smirk. “I can keep this up all night if I have to.”

“Really?” The prospect of being subjected to it all night makes your heart swell about three sizes inside your chest. “I’d like to see you try.”

Steve bats his eyelashes in quick succession a couple of times until you’re laughing and you swat at his chest in an attempt to make him stop. He instantly makes a grab for your hand and keeps it pressed against his sternum.

The distance between the two of you closes somewhat, but Steve still leaves some space on the off chance that you might want to pull away.

It’s quite possibly the last thing on your mind.

The only thing that you’re thinking of is what Steve’s hair would feel like if you ran your fingers through it and if you’d get a chance to-

“Oh.” Chrissy’s voice pulls you out of the trance that Steve has put you under and you take a step away from him immediately. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No,” you blurt out.

“Yes,” Steve says at the same time.

“I’d offer to leave, but I live here,” Chrissy giggles melodically. “Give me a sec and I’ll get out of your hair though,” she adds with a wink in your direction.

“Oh no, you don’t have to…” You’re suddenly embarrassed that Chrissy might think that something was happening (it was but you didn’t quite want to believe it just yet). The idea of the former cheerleader offering to leave what was essentially her shared kitchen was too much to bear. “I should- erm-“ Your eyes fall on Steve, who looks more amused than anything else. “Talk to you later.”

When you leave to rejoin your friends in the neighboring living room, you can just about make out another one of Chrissy’s amused giggles and Steve’s hushed apology, but you don’t stick around to hear what he’s apologizing for.

The pair enters the living room a few short minutes later, Steve’s eyes immediately find you before Dustin Henderson almost rugby tackles him and pulls him into a conversation that he had been having with Eddie.

Over the following hours whenever you would hazard a glance in Steve’s direction, you would find that he was looking at you already and he flashes you the sad puppy dog eyes without fail every single time. Whenever he makes you laugh, a smug smile materializes on his handsome face, as if he just achieved something grand.

You don’t find yourself alone with Steve again though, making you think that the small moment that you had before had passed and entirely ignoring that it was more down to yourself ensuring that there was no opportunity for him to get you alone. You were in no mood to make yourself look like a fool any further.

The hours tick by until it’s almost twelve midnight and as if on cue, Robin started yawning loudly and exaggeratedly, to make sure that everyone knew that she was getting tired.

All talk then turns to who had come by car and who could drop who off.

Somehow, in the discussion that followed it, it had been decided that you would ride with Steve. How this decision had been made was a mystery to you since you lived nowhere near him and lived only a few blocks from Nancy Wheeler, but when you tried to bring that up, you were told that there was no more room in Nancy’s car. Apparently.

The little glances that several people shared was something that you failed to notice entirely, but if you had noticed you might have figured out that the entire thing had been orchestrated very carefully by your friends, by Vickie and Robin in particular.

There was no amount of planning that could get you in the passenger seat next to Steve though, because Dustin had called shotgun from the moment that he had insisted that he ride with Steve’s car (and had dragged a bewildered Lucas along with him).

When you got in the backseat next to Lucas, you breathed a little sigh of relief that you were not sitting in the front with Steve however, half-knowing that you would end up being a stiff mess for the entire ride. The back was safer, darker, and above all, a little bit further away from Steve.

The rest of the ride is pleasant. Dustin keeps talking about everything and nothing to fill Steve in about what he missed while he was away, even though he must have heard most of it this evening already.

They act more like siblings than anything else, though if you had to be honest, you had seen Steve act similarly towards some of the other teenagers that were present which had only endeared him to you further.

When Lucas is dropped off first, he and Steve make promises to watch a football game together soon, and he drops Dustin off not long after. Similar promises are made, but they’re more of the ‘give us a ride to the arcade’ kind than anything else.

As soon as Dustin closes the door behind him, you’re shifting in the backseat, thinking it would be too odd to keep sitting there all alone. You can be brave for a short while, you’d only be in the car for a few minutes after all.

As soon as you’re moving to open the door, your hand jerks away from the handle when Steve starts driving again.

“Steve!” His eyes find yours in the rearview mirror, not so much saying ‘what?’ with his mouth, but with his eyes instead. “I was going to sit up front.”

“You don’t have to,” he answers simply.

“You’ll look like my driver like this,” you grumble slightly. “It’ll look weird.”

“Really? You’re worried about that?” Steve chuckles and you don’t really notice that he just took the wrong turn. “There’s hardly anyone around right now.”

“You don’t know that.” You lean forward in your seat, your hand coming down to rest on his chair, your fingers close to his shoulder. “There’s this old guy on my street that’s always keeping ta- hey. This isn’t the way to my house.”

“Just taking a little detour,” Steve grins, not willing to divulge any more than that.

The road that he’s currently on takes you out of town and he looks at your face out of the corner of his eye, catches how your eyes widen significantly when you realize where he’s taking you.

“To Lover’s Lake?”

Saying it out loud sounded insane.

Steve Harrington appeared to be taking you to Lover’s Lake.

You.

“Been there before?” It was a question that he knew he shouldn’t ask, but it was out of his mouth before he noticed it. “You don’t have t-“

“Once,” you reply honestly. You catch the little flash of jealousy in his eyes before the streetlights fade out completely and the car hits the dirt road. “With Pete Tanner.”

“No way,” Steve says with a slight mocking laugh. “He’s such a dick.”

“Tell me about it,” you scoff. “He spent about half an hour groping me and assuring me that he knew what he was doing, which he didn't, I might add! I gave him a handjob just to get him to stop. It was a disaster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, it was awful.” The experience had been so off putting that you had turned down every other offer of ‘hanging out’ there that you had gotten after it. This was your first time going back there in two years. “He tried to get me to go with him again the next week, but I shot him down so bad that he never talked to me again.”

“Well, unlike him, I do know what I’m doing.”

Steve didn’t even have to elaborate on that, the stories that floated around about him were pretty positive in regards to that aspect after all. It kind of stopped when his star dropped in his last year of high school, but it had done nothing to diminish his reputation. If you wanted to have a good time, Steve was your man.

“I know, Steve,” you say finally, your voice softer and decidedly more shy.

“You do?”

“Girls talk,” you clarify, even if he must have known where you had gotten it from. “It’s not just guys that talk about their conquests, the girls do, too. I’ve heard plenty of stories about you before.” You fidget with the hemline of your shirt just to have a reason to avert your eyes. “So. I know.”

“You don’t,” he chuckles. “You really don’t, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

You know that he’s right, because no amount of gossip would be able to prepare you for, well… him. 

“And for the record, I don’t talk so whatever happens here tonight stays between you and me.” When he cuts the engine, you look out the window to see that he had already parked the car near the shore of the lake. Steve unclasps his safety belt, turns in his seat and fully faces you. “Now, I’m going to get into the backseat with you and then I’m going to kiss you, because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“For how long?”

“How long am I going to kiss you for? As long as you’ll let me.”

“Damn,” you say under your breath and you can feel your body temperature rising in anticipation. “B-but I meant, how long have you wanted to kiss me for?”

Steve doesn’t answer your question immediately. Instead he switches the car radio on and turns the dial until he finds a radio station that’s to his liking. As soon as the sounds of soft rock start playing, he gets out of the front seat and opens the door that Lucas got out of a couple of minutes previous. He slides in next to you just as Roxy Music’s Avalon starts playing.

“A while,” he says simply whilst closing the door behind him. “You think I never noticed you or something?”

“I’m not exactly-“ You gesture with your hand and try your best to avoid saying the names of any of his exes, who you definitely don’t resemble in any way. “You know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He moves in closer until his thigh is pressing into yours. His left hand moves towards your face and you close your eyes when his fingertips skim over your jaw. “You’re pretty.” He says it very matter of factly, as if you should have been aware of it before he told you. “Thought you were pretty in high school, too.”

“Really?” You open your eyes and when you see that his face is a lot closer than you were expecting it to be, you jerk away and inadvertently knock the back of your head against the window. “Ow.”

“Christ, you’re like a baby deer,” he says with a laugh. “So skittish.”

“Sorry.” You rub the back of your skull automatically, but it doesn’t hurt much. “I can’t help it. I blame you.”

“What did I do?” He leans back against the seats, making his long hair flop over his forehead and partially covering his eyes. “I’m just trying to make out with the pretty girl that’s been making eyes at me all night.”

“Said I was sorry,” you whisper.

You don’t think that Steve has ever looked more gorgeous to you than he does in this exact moment and it’s scrambling your brain. You can feel your cheeks burn and your first reaction is to hide your face behind your hands. Your fingers are parted, however, so you can still see Steve’s face.

“No you’re not.”

“I am.” His fingers encircle your wrists and he slowly but gently pulls your hands away from your face. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He brings your hands up to his mouth and your breath hitches when he presses his lips to the tips of your fingers. “Huh?”

“For being like this. For not being… confident.”

“You think you need to say sorry for that?” His mouth drags down over your digits towards your palms and you swear you can feel his tongue darting out against your skin. “It’s a fucking turn-on.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I’m not usually- not li-“ He presses a light kiss to your wrist and it makes your stomach flip. The rest of the sentence comes out with a slight groan. “I’m never this bad.”

“You were confident enough earlier.”

“This is different.”

And it was. Being in a car with Steve and there being no possibility of anyone interrupting you changes things significantly. Earlier in the kitchen, there were no expectations, it was just some gentle back-and-forth flirting, you know that now, as you tried to get a feel for one another.

There were definitely expectations now, a chance of things going much further than before, and it was filling your stomach with butterflies and your brain with cotton wool. Being this close to Steve was making it hard to have any coherent thoughts whatsoever.

“Different how?” He looks up at you then, pausing his trail of kisses. You can feel his thumbs on your wrists, making soothing circular motions while you try to find your words.

“I didn’t think that we were… you know… going to do anything.”

“What else do people do at Lover’s Lake?”

“I don’t know!” That was a lie, because you did know. Everyone in town knew what happened at Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock. Maybe if you had lived under a rock these last few years, you could have been completely ignorant to it, but you knew. “Maybe you wanted to take me stargazing.”

“Baby, I want to make you see stars, but I wasn’t planning on taking you outside.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “That’s the kinda thing that’s-“

“Making you shy?” He laughs then, knowing full well how to get you flustered. “You thought I didn’t know that? You’re one of the only girls that would blush and giggle whenever I subjected you to my whole ‘ocean of flavor’ bullshit at Scoops.”

“No way was I the only one.” Other girls giggled and twirled their hair at him, too. You saw them ahead of you in line and  found yourself unfairly hating the girls that were confident enough to write their phone numbers on a napkin so they could slide it over to him. “No way.”

“Okay, maybe not, but you were definitely the cutest one. You could barely look me in the eye and then Vickie would have to order for you instead. It was cute as hell.” You burst out laughing at his confession. “You okay now?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m going to kiss you silly now.” A small affirmative noise in the back of your throat is all that you manage to offer in terms of a reply when Steve leans in closer. He pauses when he’s close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your face. “Still okay?” You nod, but he’s not letting you off the hook that easily. “With words please.”

“I-I am,” you stutter, “I’m great.”

“You sure? Because you don’t look it,” he grins mischievously. He swipes a finger from the top of your spine up to your hairline. You could feel the heat there before, where some wisps of hair had stuck to your skin, and now he can feel it too. “You coming down with somethin’?”

The only thing that you manage to do is huff in annoyance, words of disagreement already on your tongue, threatening to spill out. There’s not much chance for them to do so, because he takes the opportunity to kiss you now.

It’s a light peck. Just to get things started. No more, no less. But you let out a content sigh all the same. It makes Steve smile again, the ease with which he can read you amusing him to no end.

You whine in displeasure, already impatient that Steve’s making you wait for more.

“Relax, baby,” he breathes against your parted lips, “I was only teasing.”

He starts kissing you in earnest a split second later. And boy, can Steve Harrington kiss.

You had heard the stories, plenty of them, all of them overheard as other girls tried to outdo their friends, but none of their descriptions lived up to the real thing.

Feeling his lips on yours is making you tingle, as if electricity is coursing through him and it’s literally making sparks fly whenever he kisses you. When you feel his hand on your neck, his thumb on the corner of your jaw and his pinkie on your collar bone, it makes your skin prickle there, too.

His tongue swipes over the crease of your mouth and he does it again when you don’t grant him access quickly enough. It makes you feel better that Steve is just as impatient as you seem to be.

When his tongue finally delves into your mouth, you find that he tastes like the beer that he had earlier, but more surprising are the citrus undertones, the ones that are also sticking to his skin whenever you breathe in deeply through your nose. You can practically feel the oranges explode on your lips and the juices penetrate your mouth.

You wonder how much of that is down to your imagination or if Steve does indeed taste faintly of ripe oranges.

He’s blissfully unaware as to what’s going through your mind as your tongues slide over each other. All that he knows is that he wants more than what you’re offering him right now.

Your lips part and he presses his forehead against yours. You’re breathing heavily and you swallow hard enough for him to hear it. Your exhales intermingle with the hot air that’s coming from him, you feel it curl over your lips and spread outward over your cheeks.

Steve nudges the tip of his nose against yours and you both huff a laugh. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him like he’s a lifeline. He says nothing about it, but merely keeps looking at you and waits for your breathing to even out.

“Hey,” he finally says, “you still okay?”

“Perfect.” You tilt your chin up until your lips touch again and you murmur against his mouth, “You got me all lightheaded.”

“From a kiss?” When you nod, he chuckles softly. “That’s nothing.”

You’re a little bit more prepared when he dives back in again, your lips crashing back into each other as he hits you full force. You can’t get enough of him and it feels like the feeling is very much mutual.

Confidence floods back into you, all because you’re with him right now, because he seems to have picked you. He noticed you, well before this night apparently, and it was making you more bold, more powerful.

You start pushing back a bit, your teeth nipping at his lips, your tongue pushing into his mouth until you have him going all breathless instead. You can feel him shudder when you press your hand against his stomach, the muscles twitching under your palm.

Not wanting to be outdone, Steve takes back control a little by putting his hands on your hips and sliding them to the back until he’s grabbing two handfuls of your ass. You squeak when he lifts you up from the seat, making you plant your hands against the roof of the car, head tilting backwards and opening up your neck which he immediately latches on to with his lips.

“Ah.” Your head is spinning, already drunk on him and the way that he’s leaving gentle kisses on the column of your throat definitely isn’t helping. When he starts sucking on your pulse point, you moan his name, “Steve.”

“Right there?” You heave a sigh when he does it again and soon he’s putting more suction on your skin as if he’s trying to mark you. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Yeah, I like it.”

“Thought so,” he says in between open mouthed kisses. “Love those noises you’re making, baby. You gonna make more of them for me?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

“Wouldn’t be able to stop anyway,” you pant in reply. “Fuck, Steve.”

“Like that,” he says, voice sounding needy and heated. “Just like that.”

Nothing but a string of whines tumble from your lips as Steve continues his assault on your neck, but his mouth keeps moving down lower until it hits the collar of your shirt. He pulls it down as far as it can go so he can lick the dip above your sternum before veering outward to the parts of your collarbones that he managed to uncover.

Your hips are grinding against nothing at all, desperately needing some kind of friction, hoping that Steve will take the hint since his hands are still on your ass and nothing seems to be able to make them move.

When they finally shift, you breathe a sigh of relief, because you can finally feel his long fingers on the front of your body, gliding up your torso until they’re touching the underwire of your bra… where they then come to a complete standstill again.

The constant teasing is really starting to get to you. You’re so ridiculously hot for the guy that you swear you’ll scorch your way from the leather upholstery all the way down to the chassis.

It would appear that Steve is able to tell that you’re seconds away from reaching your limit however.

Your back is pushed against the door until there’s nothing left for you to do but sit in the seat sideways facing him. Steve follows you and soon he’s sitting on his knees between your parted legs. His hands are on your knees and he slides them down the inside of your denim clad thighs, fingers dancing over the inside seam, down towards where you’re searing hot for him.

Your hips push up instinctively, only to feel his digits move upwards to your hips, missing where you wanted to feel them the most completely.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, “not yet.”

When you pout, he chuckles and you highly suspect that he likes seeing you like that a little bit too much, seeing how something like this has happened a couple of times already.

Sweet merciful release comes when he finally slides his hands under your shirt and cups your breasts through the rather plain white bra that you’re wearing. He pulls the cotton cups down and you arch your back into his palms when you feel his warm skin against yours.

“Baby, could you-“ Before he could finish his sentence, you were already leaning forward, grabbing the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it into the front seat. “Someone’s eager,” he grins as he gets his first view at your (almost) bare chest. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You grab at his shoulders, tugging on his shirt, but he surges forward to smash his lips into yours first before whipping his shirt off with the same level of eagerness as you had taken off yours. His shirt joins yours in the front, hanging over the steering wheel.

Your hand shakes slightly when you reach for him, the palm of your hand connecting with his bare chest. You had seen him like this plenty of times when he was still the swim team captain, like so many other girls that came to cheer him on during high school, but you had never thought that you would be able to touch him like this.

There’s barely enough time for you to run your hand from his clavicle down to the top of his jeans before he kisses you hungrily again. He barely allows you time to breathe and every time that your lips part, you’re taking in large gulps of air, almost forgetting to breathe entirely if it wasn’t for your burning lungs alerting you to the fact that air was desperately needed.

“Steve,” you whine when his chest hair rubs against your hardened nipples.

“I know, baby,” he replies and before you know it, his hands are on your jeans, undoing the button and tugging them down your legs. Your underwear comes along with them, but you could care less. When he realizes that your lower half is bare, his eyes widen a fraction, barely visible from the faint green glow of his car stereo. “Let me look at you. All of you.”

Taking the hint, you reach around your back to take your bra off and playfully throw it right at him. He brushes it off the leather seat and it slides down to the floor, where you think you’ll leave it when he drops you off at the end of the night, just to give him something to remember you by.

You put your hands on your knees and slowly start pulling your legs apart, baring yourself to him completely. Steve’s eyes drop to the apex of your thighs, his hunger for you plain to see on his face, even in the mostly dark car.

One leg slips off the bench and you push the other one up, hooking your ankle over the headrest. You sigh, contented and warmed by his gaze, and your hands glide over your thighs, until they come to a stop on the lower part of your belly.

“Well, fuck,” Steve finally growls. “Pretty as a picture.”

Rushing forward, he’s on top of you in a flash, lips smashed together and his hands massaging your tits. His hips undulate against yours, the zipper of his fly catching your clit until you’re gasping and sighing into his mouth. You wrap your legs around his hips, the balls of your feet digging into his ass, pulling him closer into you until you’re sure that you must have soaked through the thick fabric of his jeans.

It’s embarrassing how fast you come like this, with his pants still on, but when Steve leans his forehead against yours so you can just make out his winning smile, you know that this was probably his intention all along.

His lips hit the corner of your mouth, then your chin, and then he starts kissing a trail down your body that’s still glowing until you feel his tongue circling one of your nipples before he takes it into his mouth and sucks on it.

Your hands shoot to the back of his head, your fingers tangling through the strands of his hair, and making sure he stays right where he is. He obliges, not moving until you pull him to your other breast, where he does the exact same thing.

Steve moves back and forth like this for a while until you can feel his fingers touching your clit which makes you pull on his hair harder than you had intended.

But it doesn’t seem to be nearly hard enough for Steve.

“Come on, baby. Pull,” he husks against your skin. You twist your fingers through the thick strands and do as he asks, but it’s still not good enough. “That’s all you got? Harder.”

Grabbing a handful of his hair, you pull so hard that his cheek knocks into one of your breasts. You can feel the corner of his mouth that’s pressed against your skin curl up into a smile, obviously pleased. It makes you repeat the motion, only this time you pull him to the side until his chin is resting on your sternum.

“You want to guide me?” His hands slip underneath your thighs before you even manage to nod, fingers digging into your flesh. “Do it. I dare you.”

“Think that I won’t?”

“Oh no, I know you will,” he grins.

“You want me to tell you what to do?”

“You could. I might even listen.” Despite what he says, it’s painstakingly clear that he will do whatever you tell him to do. “Just figured that it would be more fun if you’d just yank on my hair until my lips are on your pussy.”

Shifting your hand to the top of his head, you push him down. His tongue darts out of his mouth and the tip of it touches your heated skin, creating a path as he’s on his way down.

When you can feel his breath hit your mound, you stop, just to see what he would do. Steve doesn’t move, but simply hovers above you, completely still and waiting for you to guide him the last few inches.

The last push is rough, your impatience showing once more, and now he’s completely level with your cunt. Whenever he exhales through his nose, you can feel it hitting your center and since his breath is a lot cooler than the heat that’s burning between your thighs, he makes you squirm with every outward breath.

The wait is agonizing and since he wanted you to be his guide, you briefly wonder whether you should just grab a handful of his hair and push his face down, but he takes you completely by surprise by spitting on you instead.

The loud moan that bursts from your lips surprises you both. You can feel his saliva dripping down and mixing with your own fluids.

“You like that?” He breathes against your thigh when he hazards a glance to look up at your face.  “Feel good?”

“Yeah,” you moan, “real good. Don’t stop, Steve.”

“I won’t.” He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit with the flat of his tongue and your hips jerk upwards to chase his mouth when his tongue stops making contact with you. “I’ll give you what you want. Promise.”

“Counting on it.”

Steve practically dives in and devours you. His tongue hits all the right places, the tip of his nose making contact with your swollen clit whenever his mouth dips further down.

What he can do with his mouth is damn near sinful. He’s so good at eating you out that he has reduced you to nothing but sharp yelps and loud mewls in a matter of seconds.

He’s licking up every drop of your juices like a man starved, like you’re the never-ending dessert of a three course dinner, something that keeps regenerating and keeps making him hungry for more.

The pads of two of his fingers prod at your entrance, applying the slightest amount of pressure, just to make you aware of what he’s about to do, which provides a sharp contrast to the speed with which his tongue is batting at your clit.

“Please, Steve,” you cry out, begging already. “Need it so bad.”

There’s no reply, save from the slow slide of his fingers into your entrance. Your walls constrict them instantly, sucking them in deeper. Your back arches, pushing yourself away from the door, until his free hand presses down on your stomach to make sure you can’t move.

Since you can’t do much else, you grab at his hair and yank harder than before, until he moans against you and rams his fingers into you as far as they can go. He curls them up against your sweet spot until you’re gasping for air, jolts of electricity coursing from your cunt throughout your body. You can feel it all the way down to the tips of your curling toes.

“Oh, Steve,” you gasp when he covers your clit with his lips and sucks. Your thighs clench together, gripping his head between them. It makes him moan loudly and the added vibrations are what ultimately push you over the edge. “Ohgodohgodohhhh- Steve!”

Your climax hits you so suddenly that it’s almost as if Steve’s car just got hit by a truck and you’re seconds away from smashing straight through the windshield. You’re not, of course, but Steve makes you come so hard that it’s almost too easy to imagine.

Despite the fact that he’s just given you an earth-shattering climax, he’s still going, but you barely notice at first. You’re practically floating, soaring all the way up in seventh heaven, miles above the car, completely elsewhere as the aftershocks still pulsate through your body.

The muscles in your thighs are still shaking, Steve can feel them clench and unclench under his tight grip as he keeps them wide open. Your stomach keeps tightening as the waves of pleasure keep coming, your brain all fuzzy like you’ve just spent most of your evening getting high.

By the time that your head’s finally clear, in the process of shaking off the indescribable buzz, you become aware of what he’s doing, what he's still doing.

The sounds of pleasure quickly change to overstimulated whines instead. You try to push him away, but your muscles are made of jelly and he only proceeds to grip your thighs tighter, keeping them apart with so much force that you fear you’ll have neat little bruises where his fingers were digging into your flesh come morning.

The more noise you make, literally begging him to stop now because “you can’t” does nothing to stop him. If anything, it only makes him go at you harder, pushing his tongue as far into your quivering channel as he can, until you’re crying his name.

“Steve, Steve, Steveeeeee…”

Your voice breaks and you start keening, your fingers attempting to push him away and keep him right where he is at the same time. You swear that you can feel him smile against your abused pussy, but you’re so out of it that you can’t be entirely sure.

Steve manages to pull another climax out of you, tears it out of you kicking and screaming, dragging it out onto the surface after he had been digging deep for it, knowing full well that you had another one left in you.

This time, he lets you go and you crumple into the door, chest heaving and your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. You’re past speech, your throat dry as parchment because you couldn’t stop chanting his name as Steve made your insides burn hotter than a forest fire.

Through blurry vision, you can just about make out that Steve sits down next to you, but you can feel one of his hands on your ankle, fingers lightly wrapped around it and his thumb making the same circular motions as earlier while you come down from your high.

When you look up, the roof of the car appears to be swimming with stars. You can still see them behind your eyelids when you squeeze your eyes shut. Steve gave you a climax of such epic proportions that you don’t even have to tilt your head back to be able to look out the window to see the clear sky, which would no doubt be dotted with very real twinkling stars.

Steve had no idea that it was one of your favorite things to do on a cloudless night. He actually brought the night sky into the car, just like he said he would, and it made you smile to yourself.

“What are you smiling about?” Upon hearing his voice, you stop looking up and you blink a few times to clear your vision before you look at him. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” you reply, because admitting to what had happened seemed silly somehow.

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can tell that he wants to press on so you sit up, press yourself against his side, lean your head against his shoulder and rest your hand on his hip. “Don’t want to talk, huh?”

“Don’t think I could if I wanted to,” you admit.

“That good?”

“Steve, I think that the words ‘you rocked my world’ don’t even do it justice, even if that’s exactly what happened.”

“Cheesy,” he laughs and you can feel his lips on the crown of your head. “Good thing that I like cheesy.”

The two of you sit like this for a short while and you listen to his steady breathing. You desperately want to repay the favor, want to make Steve see the same stars as you did, and he seems to sense it.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says in a low voice, “so quit breaking your pretty little head over it.”

“I know,” you reply. “But I want to.”

“Okay.”

His answer is short and simple, making it perfectly clear that there are no expectations. He’d take you home if you asked him to, but you would much rather stay here. You don’t want to go anywhere else just yet.

You start out slow, by kissing his upper arm and then his shoulder. Moving to sit on your knees for better access, your lips move from his neck until you’re peppering kisses all along his jaw. Steve doesn’t move, he merely watches you and lets you do whatever you want.

Reaching for his jaw, you turn his head in your direction so you can kiss him full on the lips. He plays along perfectly, allowing you to give him languid kisses, with his eyes wide open so he can keep following your every move.

Your hand moves from his neck down over his chest, skimming over his skin, until your fingers reach the top of his jeans. You pop the button with ease, pull down the zip, and before he knows it, you’ve slipped your hand inside so you can palm his length over his boxer shorts.

“I was going to tell you to take as long as you need, but if you keep touching me like that-” His sentence ends abruptly and with a sharp hiss, all because you squeezed him a little. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you giggle and proceed to do it once more. You can feel his cock growing more firm against your palm. “Couldn’t help it.”

“Oh really?” he says, knowing you were teasing. You laugh again and this time he manhandles you until you’re laying underneath him. You eagerly pull his jeans down until they’re pulled underneath his ass. Your eyes drift down to his boxers and you can literally see him straining away against the cotton fabric. “I think that this is going to be a long night, honey.”

“Oh no.” Reaching for him one more time, you find him hard as a rock. There’s only one final cloth barrier between you now and soon that too will be gone. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Little brat,” he groans right before you finally push his boxers down. You finally look down, curious, and your eyes nearly roll out of your skull when you catch sight of his cock. Your hand moves slowly, tentative, until your fingers touch his velvety shaft. “A very long night,” he promises with a soft moan.

“I sure hope so,” you whisper back. “I could stay out all night.”

“Tempting,” Steve replies. He holds himself up with his arm and it makes his long hair hang in your face like a curtain.

It makes a grin appear on your lips, making you think back to how this started, with you looking at his long hair across the room and trying to stop yourself from staring. You can’t stop looking at it now, at those silky strands and how they sway back and forth, tickling your face, clinging to your damp forehead, and you don’t know if you could ever stop staring.

You don’t want to stop staring. Not for tonight at least. And for however long he’ll allow you to keep looking at him after this night…

[forest-hashira]

Cool Touch

hello hello everyone!!! i know i just updated Noble Blood a few days ago, but the mental image of this one wouldn't leave me alone, so i went ahead and wrote it. this is the first of my entries for @threadbaresweater's "summertime (and the livin' is easy)" collab event! my chosen prompt for this was gojo + sunburns. not much happens here, but nonetheless i hope you enjoy it! also as usual this is not proofread at all so please forgive any mistakes haha

read on ao3 | wc: ~1.9k | cw: gender neutral reader, ambiguous relationship (can be read as romantic or platonic!), kinda implied autistic gojo (mentions of sensory issues & such), sunburns (obviously), that's pretty much it!

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding.”

Your words earned you a glare from Satoru as he stood in the doorway. His sunglasses had slipped down his nose as he looked at you, and for once, the dark lenses stood out less against his skin than the stark blue of his eyes.

“Do I look like a liar?” he retorted, opening the door a bit wider so you could come inside.

“More like a lobster,” you said as you stepped around him, before you could even really think about the words. “Sorry! Too soon, I guess,” you added quickly, dancing away from him as he reached out, probably to pinch you in retaliation for your comment on his appearance.

“Yeah, too soon,” he grumbled, shutting the door. “I don’t think I slept at all last night, I was so uncomfortable.”

“That’s what you get for not reapplying sunscreen like we told you to.”

“‘We’?” Satoru asked indignantly, dropping down to sit in one of his dining table chairs as he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who else told me to reapply?”

“Me, for starters.” As you spoke, you set the shopping bag down on the table in front of you and began to pull out the things Satoru had asked for: multiple bottles of aloe vera gel, four flavors of ice cream, a box of popsicles, ice packs to be stuck in the freezer for later, and a few large bottles of water – your own addition, not something Satoru had requested. “And Suguru, Shoko, Kento—”

“Nanamin??”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “He does actually kind of like you, you know. And we’ve talked about the interrupting thing.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Sorry. I’ll put the money in the jar later.”

“Good,” you hummed. You tried to hand him the receipt from the drug store then, but he waved you off.

“Just leave it on the kitchen counter when you grab spoons,” he told you, leaning against the back of his chair, though h e quickly sat up straight again with a hiss when his skin made contact with the wood. “Hurryyyy,” he whined as you walked off. “I’m literally going to die if you’re not slathering me in gel in the next five seconds.”

“First of all, why the fuck did you have to phrase it like that?” You opened the silverware drawer, grabbing two spoons for the various ice creams you had gotten. Before you left the room, you stuck the receipt to the fridge with one of Satoru’s kitschy little magnets – you were pretty sure the one you grabbed was some sort of fish, but it was a little chipped and faded, and you didn’t bother to look at it for too long before you were walking away again. “Second of all, you are not going to die, you’re just uncomfortable.”

“And itchy. Soooooo fucking itchy.” Satoru was quick to snatch one of the spoons from you, already having the pint of cotton candy flavored ice cream in his lap. 

You wrinkled your nose at the sight, never quite able to understand how he was able to enjoy the flavor, but you said nothing as you came to stand behind his chair. Setting your own spoon on the table, you picked up one of the bottles of aloe gel.

“This might be cold on your skin,” you warned, though he barely acknowledged your words with a hum, his mouth too full of pink and blue ice cream for him to be thinking about much of anything. With a shrug, you squeezed some of the gel out into the palm of your hand, then set the bottle aside. You took a moment to rub the gel between your hands to warm it up a bit, then placed your hands on his tomato red shoulders.

Immediately, Satoru jumped, making an almost hilarious squawking sound as he moved away from your touch. “What the hell?” he demanded, ice cream and spoon still clutched in his hands. His eyes were open wide and his sunglasses had slipped all the way down his nose, seeming to cling to his face for dear life. “Warn a guy next time!”

More than a little shocked by his reaction, you blinked dumbly at him for a moment. “But… I did warn you?” Your brows furrowed as you spoke, and you cocked your head a bit as you looked at him, more confused than anything else.

“You definitely did not,” Satoru argued, now scowling at you.

“I said ‘this might be cold’,” you reminded him. “That counts as a warning.”

“But you didn’t say it would sting!”

Though part of you wanted to roll your eyes at Satoru for his dramatic reaction to the feeling of the aloe gel on his skin, you managed not to; you were well aware of how jumpy and antsy he could be in moments of vulnerability – physically or emotionally – and that generally he didn’t take well to perceived judgment during vulnerable times. Instead, you took a deep breath before apologizing.

“I’m sorry for not warning you about that part, too, Toru. If you’d like to come and sit back down I’ll put the gel on your sunburn. It’ll help you feel more comfortable in your skin, for at least a little bit.”

He eyed you for a moment longer, and you were certain if he had cat ears, they’d be in airplane mode as he decided whether to trust you again or not. Eventually, he let out a somewhat exaggerated sigh, then walked back over to the chair you still stood behind. “I appreciate and accept your apology,” he said quietly, settling down and taking another bite of his cotton candy ice cream. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched him, glad that he was comfortable enough with you to be vulnerable, and that he trusted you to take care of him this way. He’d come a long way since you’d first met; he’d never been standoffish, really – he was the life of every room he walked into, party or not – but he’d kept anything he deemed “too personal” close to his chest, not wanting to give anyone a reason to dislike him. He’d been slow to open up to you, but once he’d realized you could be trusted? He’d become your closest friend, constantly in your space whenever you were in the same place. It had surprised you, the sheer amount of love he was capable of, when he deemed someone worthy – and trustworthy – enough to show that side of himself, but you felt honored to have his love directed at you.

Even if he was dramatic and difficult sometimes.

“Thank you,” you told him. “Now, I’m about to touch your back and shoulders again, alright? It might be cold and it might sting again, but hopefully not much.”

“‘Kay,” he replied around a mouthful of his frozen pink and blue treat, and you shook your head at him, a small chuckle escaping you.

Doing just as you’d said, you placed your hands on Satoru’s shoulders again, spreading the gel over as much of his skin as you could reach from your current angle: across the tops of his shoulders and down around to his collarbones; up his neck to his undercut; back down below his shoulder blades, rubbing it all in and doing your best to make sure it wasn’t layered on too thick, knowing that would aggravate his sensory issues.

Satoru tensed and shuddered for a fraction of a second when your hands came in contact with his fried skin, but he quickly relaxed again, letting you do all the work for him, since the worst of his burn was on his back and shoulders, where he couldn’t get a great angle to rub the gel on himself.

Grabbing the bottle of gel, you squeezed a bit more of it out into your palm. “I need to get the rest of your back,” you told him. “Could you lean forward a little more so I can reach it better?”

“Sure.” He did as you asked without complaint, even setting aside the now empty pint of ice cream and reaching for one of the water bottles you’d bought, twisting off the cap and taking a large sip of it.

“Someone’s thirsty,” you couldn’t help but tease. It was so rare to see Satoru drink anything that wouldn’t give anyone else a cavity just from looking at it that you had to make note of it any time it happened.

He grumbled at your words, but if he blushed, it was impossible to distinguish from the red that already tinted his cheeks. “I am thirsty.”

“I know,” you soothed. “That’s why I bought those. I always get really thirsty when I get a sunburn.” You uttered another warning before placing your gelled up hands further down his back than before, once again working the substance into his skin as well as you could. From the new angle, you could tell the burn ended where the waistband of his swim trunks had been, so you didn’t let your hands wander any places they weren’t needed. Though you didn’t need another reason to keep your hands to yourself (so to speak), the way Satoru shivered when your fingers dipped the tiniest bit below the waist of the current shorts he wore was reason enough.

“I’m done with your back,” you told him after a bit, stepping out from behind the chair to better look at the snowy haired man you had just thoroughly aloe-d. “Do you need help with getting the gel anywhere else?” The smile he shot you struck you right in the heart.

“No, I think I can do the rest of it. Thank you.” 

Keeping eye contact with him suddenly felt too intense, so you looked away. Your gaze landed on the open water bottle on the table, and you were pleased to see that he’d nearly emptied the bottle; the sight made you smile.

“You’re welcome,” you said back quietly. Then you remembered the ice packs and popsicles, so you picked them all up and walked back into his kitchen, sticking them all in wherever you could them, in between all his boxes of frozen chicken nuggets and other microwave meals – his kitchen skills were minimal, and the man knew what he liked, so you couldn’t really fault him for sticking with the ease of frozen food.

When you returned from the kitchen, you saw Satoru beginning to rub the aloe gel along his arms, so you were satisfied that you had completed the job you’d come here to do. You pulled your keys out of your pocket, making sure you had your phone before you made for the door.

“Wait!” Satoru called after you, and you stopped, turning back to look at him. His brows were furrowed, and his expression was some combination of confused and… dejected? “Where are you going?”

“You said you didn’t need any more help with the aloe, so I was gonna leave you to it.”

“Oh.” His face fell at your words, but he spoke again anyways. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

You tilted your head slightly. “Not really, no. Why?”

Satoru perked up so quickly it was enough to give you secondhand emotional whiplash. “Oh, good! I was hoping you’d stay, maybe watch a movie or something?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, with his sunglasses hanging crooked on his nose, his frosty white hair falling into his eyes, his boyish grin aimed full force at you.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’ll stay. What movie were you thinking?”

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @enchantedforest-network

divider by @/saradika

[separatist-apologist]

8 and 21 for the asks?

8. Do you collect anything? If so, what?

Magnets! And little shot glasses, because I like to be a cliche. Magnets are more specific because they need to be absurd and weird, but shotglasses are supposed to be kitschy and like, a very touristy thing. Last year when I was in Mexico, I got a shot glass shaped like a cowboy boot. You have to lean hard into the cringe

21. What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

My favorite piece of art is Apollo and Marsyas painted by Bartolomeo Manfredi. I don't know why, exactly- just that the expressions, the color, and everything else about it evokes such a specific reaction, which is the point I guess. I'm not really an artsy person, but I still think about this.

[gretavanlace]

Beg For It (part 3)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, oral sex, degradation, pegging, overstimulation, illusions to infidelity, etc etc

Can I just give a HUGE thank you for over 1K followers?!? I MEAN WTF??? I absolutely exist for you beautiful souls and I am grateful for your support always ❤️❤️❤️

The thing about Jake is this- the man knows exactly what he wants, and exactly when and how he wants it. He isn’t afraid to enact a little craftiness to get it, either...he’s the sweetest, slyest, con man you’ve ever been blessed to know. If he were even remotely capable of violence or cruelty, he would’ve made a mafia Don to put Corleone to shame.

The thing about you is this- you often forget that. Which, by default, leaves you vulnerable to being worked by your dear Jacob like a rube at a carnival.

“I would have, Sam.” You hear Jake quietly informing his brother in the kitchen. “I’d have fucked her straight through the wall of that bar if I could have. She had the softest looking hair I’ve ever seen...wanted to wrap my fingers through it while she...”

“Jesus, Jake.” Sam snaps, putting an end to the dirty details. “Spare me your shit before I go tell that lovely little girlfriend of yours what you’re in here running your mouth about. I don’t need those fuckin’ visuals in my head. Gross.”

“You mean like the visuals I had to deal with when you fucked that girl at your graduation party in my bed?”

“In my defense...” you picture Sammy crossing his arms over his chest as he so often does when called out by a brother. “Danny was passed out in my room. Plus, we were always on the road by then anyway, you hardly ever even slept there. That was fucking years ago, by the way, Jacob. Let it go.”

“You let it go.” Jake retorts childishly. Nothing like bickering with a brother to turn you into a nine year old.

You decide now is the time to put an end to your shameful eavesdropping and enter the kitchen. Just as you suspected, you find Jake leaned back against the fridge, back mashed against the pictures and take-out menus that live pinned there by the kitschy magnets you like to collect from the various places you visit together. Sammy, is propped against the kitchen sink, arms folded just as you’d pictured.

“Hello, Kiszkas.” You smile, shoving your anger down deep into a little jar inside you. You’ll unscrew the lid, and send it careening free as soon as the time is right.

“Hello, darling.” Jake grins, with a flashing twinkle in his eye that you can’t unravel the meaning of. Probably still lost in the daydream of pounding his cock into Little Miss Barfly Whore. That isn’t fair, you don’t even know her...but ask if you give half a shit.

“Don’t let me interrupt, darling.” You lend a snarky quality to the endearment and earn a quizzical glance from him. “I just wanted to let you know I’m going to bed.”

Sam steals a peek at his phone. “But it’s not even nine o’clock?”

“I’m not feeling well.” You shrug, and allow it when Jake crosses the room to check on you with the back of his hand to your forehead.

“You feel normal.” He brushes your hair behind your ear with concern. Ducking away from his touch, you wave him off with a clipped. “Headache.”

Much more warmly, you drop a kiss on Sammy’s cheek and sink into one of his deliciously sweet, platonic hugs. “You stay as long as you’d like, Sam. If you’re here in the morning, I’ll make those veggie sausage link things you like.”

He thanks you, and off you go, praying, for the very first time, that he’ll leave.

When Jake finally finds you, you’re stretched out in bed, taking up much more than your fair share to signal how unwelcome he is. Face washed, teeth brushed, hair braided loosely down your back, you eye him over your book, mid page turn. “Can I help you?”

“No.” he shuffles around somewhat awkwardly, as if he’s searching for his bearings. “Are you upset with me?”

You close your novel and set it aside, taking your time before settling in to rake your gaze distastefully over him in the doorway. “Now why would I be upset with you? Have you done something wrong?”

A visible hum travels up the length of him, but he pretends it hasn’t. “Wrong?” his lips quirk into a miniscule grin. “No, and I resent the implication.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you resent.” You snap. Perhaps a bit more belligerently than you’d intended.

“Wow.” His eyes have widened as if you’re out of line, and it annoys you greatly. “What’s the problem, darling?”

“Darling?” You hiss. “I ought to make you genuflect at my fucking feet and call me your queen.”

“I’m willing to bet that that’s the first time in history genuflect and fucking have ever been uttered in the same sentence.” He laughs, sounding smug and slap worthy. Self-righteous fuck. “So you are mad.” He goes on. “Why?”

“Because you’re disturbing my reading with your incessant questions.”

He tilts his head with that obnoxious smirk plastered across his pretty face. “Is that all, darling?”

You still yourself completely, and pour every ounce of authority surging through your veins forth. “Get down on your knees, Jake. Right now. Right where you stand. Knees.”

Remarkably, he does as he’s told without qualms, almost as though he had been anticipating the directive.

“What if Mommy decides to just leave you there all night?” you hum softly, throwing the covers back to expose your bare legs to his hungry gaze.

“Then I guess this is where I’ll stay.” He concedes obediently, breath faltering in his throat when you spread your legs to reveal that you seem to have lost your panties.

Your hand slips down between your parted thighs to tease over your clit. “I’m so wet, Jakey...can you see it?”

He manages a nod, completely mesmerized by your cruel display.

“Do you want to taste me?” your fingers delve into your warmth, right down to the last knuckle. “Would you like to come over here and make me cum right on that pretty-girl face of yours?”

“Pretty girl face?” He questions shakily. “And yes, yes I definitely fucking want that.”

“I meant what I said.” You snap your legs closed in punishment. “You’re prettier than any girl I’ve ever seen. I should put you in a skirt and make you ride my pink cock like the sweet little slut you are for me. You are, aren’t you? You’re Mommy’s sweet and pretty, pretty slut.”

He nods, but that isn’t good enough. “Say it.” You order, careful to keep your tenor calming and gentle, as if lulling him to sleep.

“I’m your slut, Mommy.” The sentence trembles out of him as he ventures his hand down to sneak a nudge against his likely aching cock.

“No, no.” you scold, still gentle and loving. “That isn’t what I asked. Tell me what you are.”

You’ve let him touch himself once, so he presses his luck and does it again. “I’m your sweet and pretty slut.”

“Yes, you are.” your legs spread for him once more in reward. “Why do you keep touching yourself? Is your cock hard?”

A deep, faltering breath lifts his shoulders momentarily. “As a rock.”

“Let me see.” you order so gently it could almost pass for a request, though he certainly understands that you aren’t asking.

His hands move to fumble with his belt, eyes on you with questions burning in them, he wants to be sure he hasn’t misunderstood, he doesn’t want to overstep.

“Mmm-hmm...” you encourage, circling your clit with a feathery sigh that makes him whine low in his throat. “Show me.”

He tugs it out of his jeans there in the doorway, on the floor, while you look on from your throne of a bed, holding it in his fist like a gift...an offering to his goddess.

“Lie down.” again, the dictation is issued softly, like a sonnet.

Confused, he moves to stretch out with his back to the carpet but you shake your head. “No, baby. I want your cock against the floor, hands above your head, eyes closed.”

He steals a flash of a glimpse at you, and like it’s the first time, you’re momentarily quieted by his beauty. Once he is positioned right, you allow a quiet moan to quiver over your tongue, knowing how badly he’ll want to see what you’re doing to yourself to elicit that sound. “Look at my beautiful Jakey,” you praise. “Laid out on the floor for me just because I asked. What if I came over and wiped my feet on you like a pretty little welcome mat?”

“I wish you would.” he breathes, clutching lightly at the rug below him, nuzzling his cheek into the plush pile. “I should be so lucky.”

Fuck. He is perfect!

“I want you to grind your cock on the floor.” the tiny gasp that hitches into his lungs as he listens makes you smile. “Move around until you find an angle that feels good, sweet boy, and then fuck your aching cock into the carpet for Mommy. Eyes closed, remember, and no hands.”

A strangled sound ghosts out of him as he begins to circle his hips around, searching for the position that feels best, a languid sigh escaping him when he finds it.

“There you go, baby.” you nod, though he can’t see you. “Look at you, fucking the floor. I adore you, but you’re fucking pathetic. You know who wouldn’t do this?” The lid on that jar full of rage twists off. “Sammy.”

A noise of shock and anger sounds out of him but you charge on. “If I told Sammy to get on the floor and grovel for me– and I would because he’s so fucking gorgeous and delicate– he’d probably snatch me up and fuck me into the wall, he’d make me grovel instead.”

He is angry, you can hear it in his response, but still he heeds your instructions and fucks the floor. “Stop.” One word, yet it carries the muted fury, hurt, and sexual tension, of a thousand.

“Oh,” you feign ignorance. “Does that upset you? That I want to fuck your pretty brother? That I’d like to climb into his lap and ride his thick cock until I don’t even remember you fucking exist? God, I bet he fucks like he plays, I bet he just...”

“Fucking stop!” he cries out, begging for mercy, yet still grinding away at the carpet. “I knew you were there, okay? I knew you were listening...I made it up so you’d get upset. I wanted the strap. I wanted my mommy.” The last bit rushes out in a hurry, as if he’s embarrassed by his admission.

It’s a little like a delicious physical blow, to hear that it wasn’t true, that he’d made up his desire for this phantom girl simply because he wanted this so badly.

“Jakey,” you soothe. “Sit up.”

He pulls himself up on his knees and you are met with the breathtaking sight of him, gorgeous and flushed, hard and leaking, panting and squirming.

“You can just ask for what you want, baby. I love this as much as you do, I don’t have to be upset to give it to you this way.” you assure him. “If you want my cock, just say so.”

A mischievous glint winks in his eye, “I want your cock, Mommy.”

Returning his wicked stare, you shake your head. “Well now you’re in trouble, sweet boy, so you’re gonna have to earn my cock in your ass.”

“Fuck...” the obscenity shakes out of him lowly.

“Come here.” you curl your finger, beckoning him forward as you rise to your feet next to the bed.

He moves to stand but you put a fast stop to it. “Hands and knees, now.”

Pitching himself forward, he moves across the room, crawling closer and closer until he waits at

your feet.

“You’re my good little baby aren’t you?” you praise, stroking his glossy hair. “My sweet boy, my pretty fucking slut.”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.” he whispers, leaning into your touch.

Your grip tightens in his hair and pulls his face to your core. “Be a good boy and eat mommy’s cunt...I want to cum.”

With a rumble deep in his chest, his face buries into your heat, sucking and licking like it’s the first and last time he’ll ever get to taste you as you stand above him like the judge, jury, and executioner.

When his tongue sweeps, hot and insistent, over the bud of your clit, a moan rolls past your swollen, parted lips. “That’s it, Jakey...” you nod, yanking him up closer to you. “You know just how I like it, don’t you? Aren’t you the sweetest thing for me?”

“Cum for me...” he begs, slurring the words as he sucks away at you. “Please? Right in my mouth? That’s all I want. I’ll go to sleep hard and desperate if it means you’ll let me taste it.” his hands run up the length of your thighs and sink into your hips. “I want it so fucking bad, mommy...let it go. All over my face. Please...”

His shameless begging, and the pressure of his grip digging into your skin, and his ungodly sinful tongue, sends you spiraling, and suddenly you’re fucking yourself against his mouth. Holding him still against you by his hair as you ride his tongue, chasing a desperation you hadn’t expected to feel tonight while you lorded your authority.

When you unravel above him, he proves louder than you are. Moaning and murmuring into you as you fuck his face...growling out feral sounds that make your skin prickle with heat. When you come down, you have to forcefully push him away. He fights his way back, tongue outstretched, searching for your trembling clit, until you have to swat at him, fingertips stinging against his wet cheek.

“On the bed for me, baby...” you hum, stroking the place you’ve just smacked.

He stares longingly at your still twitching cunt, then reluctantly climbs onto the bed after tossing his shirt to the floor and kicking off his pants.

“On your knees, Jakey.” you purr, trailing a single finger down the back of his thigh. “You’re gonna get what you wanted so badly now. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he clutches at the sheets, nodding frantically into them. “Fuck me, mommy. Take care of me.”

A knot twists to life low in your belly as you listen to him beg and whine, tugging his boxer briefs down his thighs. “Relax for me, sweetheart.” You keep your voice quiet and calming as you lean in to drag your tongue over him.

“Shit...” he hisses, backing up closer to your mouth.

“Mommy knows what you need,” you promise, lapping over him slowly.

“Feels so good,” his words whimper out of him, and your cunt pulses harder with each one. He sounds like a needy angel.

You spoil him a little longer and then give him a gentle smack on the side of his thigh, “You stay right here, sweet boy.” leaning up you lick the shell of his ear and then hum into it. “I’m about to rock your fucking world, Jakey. Say thank you.”

He nods rapidly, and to your delight, his tongue slips out and licks over the pillow beneath him as if he’s just that tightly wound, in need of an outlet any way possible. “Thank you, mommy. You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve it.”

Dropping your mouth closer to his, you lick into it, giving his wandering tongue a purpose. “You most certainly do deserve it, my love.” you insist on the pull back. “You deserve the world.”

He shudders and sighs your name, but you pull away, leaving him to sound out the quietest wails of desire imaginable...barely sounds at all– as you dig out the strap. A treasure amongst treasures, it waits quietly for such long stretches in between these nights, and once it emerges, you’re always a little shocked by how pleased you are to be reunited with it...the pretty pink accomplice that helps you reduce this beautiful man before you into a quivering puddle of euphoric release.

You’ve become adept at strapping it securely, and in no time at all, you are knelt behind him, dragging the tip, dripping with lube, in gentle circles over him as he pants and moans for more.

“I don’t want you to touch yourself at all...” you croon out, sweeping your free hand over the small of his back. “Mommy wants to make you cum. Alright, sweetheart?”

“Alright.” he sounds so small. Meek, even. But also, so fucking ready...there’s a hint of impatience in his submission, proving how badly he wants this, and how long he has waited.

“How long have you been waiting for this, baby?” you ask, slowly sinking just the tip inside him. He cries out softly, and it makes your thoughts cloud.

“Days.” he admits. “I didn’t know how to ask.”

It dawns on you that no matter what you say to him, this might be something that will never be easy for him to voice, so you do what you do best, you find a way to love him by making sure he always has what he needs. “Next time you want it, just take it out of the drawer and leave it on my nightstand. I’ll find it, and then I’ll know. Would that be easier for you than having to ask?”

You push in further and he nods through a gasp. “Much easier.” he sighs. “I love you so much.”

Deeper you slide in and opt for something a little easier on the heavy in reply. “Easier than me pretending I’d like to fuck your brother in retaliation for you making me insane with jealousy?”

He laughs quietly through a gasp “Were you that jealous?”

You bottom out and grab onto his hips, burying the strap inside him to the hilt. “I was fucking out of my mind. You’re mine.”

That is that last word on the subject, and to make sure of it, you begin fucking into him with long, smooth strokes.

“Yes, mommy...” he begs, thrashing his face back and forth against the pillow. “Just like that. Fuck me just like that.”

You keep a steady pace, giving it to him no harder, no faster...he said just like that, so that’s exactly how you’ll give it until he says otherwise.

Your hands map invisible trails over his back, soothing and encouraging him with your touch. “You’re taking it so well.” he has earned your praise, and then some. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking pretty, baby...I’m dripping just watching you take my cock. Gorgeous.”

“Faster...” he sounds choked and desperate, dancing along the edge already. “Fuck me faster, mommy. Please, please.”

“That’s my good boy...” you bury your fist in his hair, yanking gently at the roots. It is warm and damp with sweat as you fuck into him. “Tell me what you want. I want you to have it.”

“So close...” he whines a trembling noise that you want to hear over and over and over. “Please make me cum. Fuck, please.”

So many pleases, all the begging, all the fucking begging...

His hands are pressed flat to the headboard for leverage, not bracing to fuck you back, but merely to steady himself so he doesn’t hurtle away too far from you with the force of your thrusts. The pressure of your bodies meeting causes a pleasant pressure against your clit as the base of the strap nudges against you, just enough to keep the frantic throbbing there bearable. And then he’s cumming...shooting all over the sheets below, moaning and crying out for you, arching and throwing himself back until you jerk him up straight by his hair. Fucking him harder, and without mercy, his back now pressed against your tits.

“Do it again for mommy.” you urge, teeth gripping his earlobe in punctuation. “Cum for me, sweet boy. C’mon, one more time.”

“I...” he trails off and drops the back of his head into the crook of your neck. “I can’t.”

Reaching down, you find his cock rock solid still and burning to the touch. “Yes, you can. Give it up, Jakey.”

“It’s too much...” he’s whining and fidgeting, drunk with pleasured agony. “Please.”

There’s that word again.

“Again.” you coax, now sucking marks all along the length of his jugular, fucking and fucking and fucking him. “Behave yourself and do as mommy says.”

His hand moves to wrap around his cock as it bobs obscenely with your every thrust. “Don’t touch it.” you warn. “We did just fine before without your hand, we’ll do just fine without it this time too.”

A sentiment of protest creeps its way out of his beautiful lips, but you quiet him down with a hand wrapped firmly around his throat. He swallows aggressively, sending his Adam’s apple sailing against your palm, and for whatever reason, it makes you weak with need.

“Come on, pretty boy...” you borrow his word of choice for the evening. “Please?”

“Fuck...” he quakes against you. “Say that again.”

“Cum for mommy, Jakey.” your lips grace over his shoulder, no matter the silken strands of his hair that get caught in your kiss. “Please..”

His arm curls back to sink his fingers into your locks, pulling your mouth to his neck, begging you to suck him without a word. You give him what he wants, and his cock is flinging hot bursts of cum wildly the moment your mouth latches onto the side of his throat.

He falls apart loudly, and feverishly...rocking and writhing, calling for you as though you were a million miles away, begging for what he has already been given and thanking you breathlessly for it.

When he finds himself back on earth, you allow him to slump forward and catch his breath. Finally able to think straight once again, he asks so gently, so absolutely tentatively it makes you want to weep. “Do you need my cock, mommy?”

You feel like you haven’t enjoyed an orgasm in years, you’re so worked up, (though it was just a blink ago that you were riding his face), but you know how taxed his entire system must be. “Don’t worry about me, baby.” you smile, easing the strap out of him.

“Let me make you cum again.” a shiver thrums visibly through him when you pull out completely. “I can do it for you, I promise.”

He rolls over and pulls you closer, yanking at the straps holding your cock in place until they give way. “Sit on my cock, mommy. I know I can keep it hard for you a little longer.”

Listening to him beg you to ride him despite the fact that you know his cock is screaming for reprieve, sets your entire world on fire. “Fuck, Jakey...” you growl, sounding untamed and feral “You’re such a good boy.”

He nods and guides you down onto him, shuddering and nearly chewing holes into his beautiful lips as you begin to ride him hard and fast, fucking his cock as he fights to keep it from going soft inside you.

With rapt attention, you watch as two fat tears fall from his squeezed shut eyes, rolling down his temples to disappear into his hair.

“Are you crying, baby?” you taunt gently, pounding yourself down into his lap.

“It’s too...” he sucks in a sharp breath when you angel your hips. “....much. Please, mommy.”

“Please, what?” You taunt lovingly.

“Please cum...” his fingers are worrying bruises into your waist as they fight not to throw you off of his shivering cock.

“You first.” you know he can’t but you expect his reaction will be delectable.

He doesn’t disappoint. His eyes snap open beneath his sweating, furrowed brow. “No...I can’t. Please, please, please, please....”

The word begins to breathe out of him with every exhale and you let it guide you to your end, that beautiful pleading, you let it drag you under along with the head of his cock rutting against you just right deep inside.

The moment you collapse against him he shoves his hand between your sweaty bodies and pulls his cock free of your warm, wet grip with a sound you’ve never heard before, a sound that almost makes you yearn for round two...almost.

After a long, comfortable stretch of silence as you linger together in that breathtaking space only the two of you exist in, he rolls you off and tucks himself around you.

You know that soon the shower will be calling to you both, as will the kitchen for a cool drink, and maybe a shared midnight snack, but for now it is only you and Jake floating in the sea of each other.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @gardenofgreta @moonlightbrekker @theweightofstardust @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @shesalrightshesouttasight @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @kdarling1 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretasmokerising @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @trplshotofdopamine @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @dakotadovato @joshsmama @joshkiszkas @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @pardeeinsaginaw @tripthelightjaketastic @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @loofypoofy @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @prophetofthedune @spicedandicedtea @gretavanflowerpower @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @agirlwithmanytastes @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @janegvf @sparrowofthedawn

[mysteriesmuse]

New Event Added to Calendar- "Just tell me your schedule, dammit!"

Douxie x Reader: One shot

Title: New Event Added to Calendar

A/N: This isn't the best work or plot idea, but I still think it was fun to work on and it turned out pretty well. Enjoy :)

Ash Dispersal Pattern was packing up, the various personal amps already off and unplugged.

“Hey, we’ll see you next week Douxie!”

“Yeah goodbye Douxie!”

The band members chirped walking out the front door arms clad in gear.

Working together in silent tandem you and Douxie went about putting everything away.

“I’ve got the cords wrapped,”

You replied extending the wrapped chords in your hand out.

Wordlessly Douxie’s hand brushed against yours and took the cables. The partnership and teamwork was seamless as neither of you had even looked up from what you were doing.

In a few moments Douxie nodded towards you.

Shuffling over to the corner of the room you began shoving with full force of your body. Arms extended all the way as you began putting the coffee table back into its place in the center of the room.

Douxie had hosted the practice this week since the head singer was sick with a cold.

Was it merlinifilus or another case of Jim Lake disease? Honestly, you couldn’t even remember.

Once Douxies apartment was back into order you grinned walking over to pick up your own things.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Douxie said looking up from his placing of couch cushions. His hands paused as he listened to what you were saying.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something but I’ve been a little nervous to ask...” your fingers found themselves fiddling with the end of a piece of hair.

“Oh, is it a date?”

At that your head snapped up as your fingers paused. Waving your arms across you body you chuckled, “No, no.”

You continued, “I’m not sure if that answer is a disappointment or a relief. Although I assume the later,” you added mumbling.

Douxie shook his head slightly resisting the urge to laugh at your little ramble.

In truth he’d been wanting to ask you out, but you only seemed to laugh at anyone’s romantic attempts. While rearranging the cushion in his hand Douxie thought about something Jim had told him over lunch,

“Man, I don’t get it you’re, like- a total chick magnet!”

Douxie groaned, “I can be pretty charming, you know?” running his hands down his face he sighed, “I don’t think it helps that these other guys flirt with her often as well.”

Jim nodded dejectedly before sinking into the booth chair and slurping his soda.

“Claire will tell you I was really, really bad at getting her attention,” Jim wheezed clutching his chest at the memory, “but you’re really smart. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Uh-hello?”

You’d been waving your hand in front of Douxie face to get him to snap back into focus.

“Oh, you were saying?” Douxie smiled shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“Well, you know how I’m interested in music, as my major?”

Douxie nodded, he’d certainly heard you meantion it a few times.

“You’re really musical and I’ve got to prepare this solo piece and oh boy,” you gulped plopping yourself onto the edge of the couch.

You looked down at your socks as they thumped against the shaggy carpeted floor. Soon there was a weight shifting on the couch beside you. With the fear in your throat you swallowed and looked up into Douxie’s eyes.

“You’ve never heard me play my main instrument before and I was really hoping that you’d maybe listen to me play through my solo piece. You probably can’t tell it by looking at me, but I kinda have stage fright.”

Slowly Douxie shook his head, “No, I really couldn’t tell. You perform so well!,” he exclaimed in disbelief.

At that you giggled, “Thanks, but it’s always easier being the bass in the very back,” you shuddered, brushing shoulders with Douxie, “solo repertoire is different.”

Placing a hand on your shoulder Douxie nodded, “Of course we can do that.”

“Really? Oh thank you!” You exclaimed while barreling into Douxies chest for a hug. Whilst you held a tight grip around Douxies shoulders he hugged back.

Nose twitching as your hair tickled it he gave a tight squeeze to your midsection as you drew back.

"Oh, I’ve got to go!” Glancing up at the familiar, yet odd kitschy cat clock hanging over the fake mantle place in Douxie’s apartment.

With a light snort you got up, you couldn’t imagine why a guy like him would have such an old clock laying around.

In a swift motion you began picking up your things the cats swishing tail alerting you to the fact that you’d be late for an ensemble rehearsal.

Pausing at the door which Douxie held open you waved the phone in your hand, “I’ll text you so we can make plans.”

Douxie rolled his eyes playfully as you were already down the hall and brought his hand up to cup around his mouth.

“Sounds good!”

You were already in the elevator door as it closed. In an over exaggerated yell you called right before the doors closed, “Don’t forget to tell me your schedule!”

“It was one-“ Douxie paused realizing he was yelling out into the empty hallway, “it was one time!” He yelled delightfully exasperated with ears burning as he shut the door.

—————

“Thank you so much for doing this for me,” you exclaimed with a sweeping gesture as you hunched over your instrument case putting it away.

Douxie uncrossed his legs and rose from his place lounging on the couch. Grabbing the stand and putting it away in the laundry closet once again.

“It was really no problem,” he called.

He heard you hum followed by the zipper and came back to be standing with you and instrument case on your back face to face.

Mischievously you smirked, “Now about that schedule...”

Douxie groaned in protest at you making a grabbing motion with your arm.

You waited arms crossed as you leaned in close over Douxies shoulder. A smile on his face as he pulled up his calendar app to reveal his shift schedule.

Scanning over the screen you hummed searching for a certain empty spot. A mental calendar of your own schedule behind your eyelids.

“Aha!” Reaching out you snatched Douxie’s phone out of his hands.

Shifting around slowly you began typing rapidly filling in this slot of free time in his schedule.

“Y/N,” Douxie gasped reaching around to be met with your gig bag, “Hey, ugh.” That was a mouthful of cotton fabric.

“Almost,” you struggled against Douxie’s attempts.

“Blemy! Stop acting cheeky!” Douxie hollered glee in his voice as he struggled trying to get around you.

Clearly this swift evasion tactic of turning ever so slightly when he got close was enough to keep the phone in your hands.

“And! And I’m done,” you laughed holding the phone out as a peace offering.

Douxie shook his head and began sticking his tongue out at you while he opened his phone to check what you did.

His tongue quickly went back into his now dry mouth and clicked unintelligently against his palette.

New Event Added to Calendar: Dinner at Jerry’s with Y/N L/N 6:00pm-8:00pm.

Comment: Don’t be late! :)

“This time I’m asking you about a date,” you called backing out of the door with a wink.

Words tumbling Douxie ran to the door seeing you already out in the hallway.

“You could have asked!”

“Didn’t know you were seriously interested til some sophomore told me!” You hollered back grinning.

Furrowing his eyebrows Douxie cursed in realization, “Claire, Jim, this is not what I meant!”

Immediately his phone dinged and he looked down at it seeing a message from Claire.

‘Is teach going on a date now?!’

‘I am never going to speak about my love life in our sorcery lessons again...’

The typing dots flashed across his screen.

‘You’re welcome. ;) I expect to hear all the details at our next class’

Douxie sighed pinching the bridge of his nose he was 919 years old and was being set up by a 15 year old. Another ding.

‘Have fun! But not too much fun you hear!’

“Dammit...” Douxie groaned. Apparently it could get worse, but maybe he wasn’t so mad after all.

[ellstersmash]

Three: Sixteen

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan (Modern!AU)

Rating: overall E for Explicit | this chapter T for Teen

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--

Athi moves the rearview mirror a fraction of an inch. Returns it to its original position, then back. Tough to tell if her discomfort is due to a misjudged angle or the fact that it’s been more than a year since she’s driven anything other than her bike. Not as if she could have let him drive, though. Not in his current state.

“Take this to Saelac,” Solas murmurs. 

He has his eyes shut, but his thumb is still softly stroking hers the way it has been since she pulled onto the freeway. She expected him to pass out right away, but then this city’s policy on roadwork seems to be: Not if we can help it. Every street is scarred with what must be two decades’ worth of springtime patches, and if he couldn’t sleep through a little bit of air turbulence, he sure won’t manage it here.

“How was your week?” he asks, words quiet and slurring together. Enunciation is hard work.

So she tells him about the bar. About the missing, well, everything, and the cleaning list, and Tali’s prediction that Seggrit will be getting more involved with the day-to-day operations, and how for all that she gripes about it, his absence is what makes her job mostly tolerable. Solas nods where more or less appropriate, sometimes smiling sleepily at her tale from the passenger seat.

She tells him about the houseplant she bought. Remembers she forgot to water it today. Yesterday, too. Fuck.

And she tells him about Sera. About their argument and Dagna moving in, and how odd that will be. How sudden it all is, and maybe destined to be a disaster but worth a try, right? She gets the sudden urge to retreat. Three steps at least away from this talk of people moving in together, of possible futures that they’re far too brand new to traverse, even in conversation, even unrelated to either of them entirely. And maybe he feels it too, because he perks up only to fixate on the rally. Asks her when and where and what's it for and who's in charge and whether or not they got a permit and has the audacity to frown when she admits she won’t be there.

"How unfortunate," he says.

Athi groans."Not you, too."

"Excuse me?"

"Sera already gave me shit about it, so if that's your angle I don't want to hear it."

"I did not intend to ‘give you shit,’ no. I was hoping to invite myself along."

"Really?"

"Yes, it is a worthy cause. I had no idea Sera was such an advocate for social reform."

“Then you don’t know her very well.”

“Clearly I have misjudged her.”

“Why are you interested?”

“Why would I not be?”

She tries not to twist that into an accusation. "You just don't strike me as that kind of guy."

"The kind who cares, or the kind who takes action?"

Eyes on the road, it’s impossible to tell if he’s as offended as he sounds. She shrugs. "Both? Seems like you'd rather dig up the past than fix the future."

“Perhaps you have misjudged me, for I do not see the two as mutually exclusive. Take this next exit, then left at the light.”

The change in subject is a welcome one, but she needs her hand to downshift. Squeezes his before she lets go. Not an apology, not for that, but a no hard feelings. His house is only a few blocks away from here, but that’s as much as she remembers because the streets in this section are laid out in a grid and the corners are basically identical.

“Third one down, take a right.”

The yellow house with the overgrown garden jogs her memory. The plants are sad and brittle and dying now and the last time she passed it was early spring, so the perennials had not yet bloomed and the rest was only partially planted. But it must be a sight to behold in the throes of summer. The colorful pinwheels and kitschy glass butterflies sticking up from the withering stalks imply a love of whimsy, and there’s a small white bench surrounded by unlit lanterns under a nearby tree. She hopes she gets to sit there one day. Hopes the neighbors are friendly.

He has her park in his driveway, nose to the garage and she wonders if he’s filled it with more piles and boxes of dusty books or if he just doesn’t want to bother with the door.

Solas points out the house key for her, then grabs his luggage. Once she realizes the lock is upside-down and gets it open, she flicks the front hall lights on and it’s jarring. The house has that hush which places sometimes get after a prolonged vacancy—an absence of sound to soak up and spit out, and the jingle of his keys in her hand and the scrape of his suitcase on the doorframe are too loud. Like it forgot it was ever lived in. 

But nothing else has changed. Not the clutter in the office. Not the cobweb high in the corner. Not even the slight skew of the painting hanging in the living room. Maybe if they’d made these plans before he had left, he’d have tidied up . . . or maybe not. She doesn’t know him well enough to guess.

“If you do not mind, I have been looking forward to a shower all day,” he says and leans his bag against the wall. Starts down the hall toward the kitchen, then stops so abruptly she nearly runs into him.

“I haven’t kissed you yet,” he says, half epiphany, half confession.

Athi threads her arms around him, pleased to discover the tension between them is gone. “I’m very aware.”

His gaze rests on her lips and he blinks slow, as if the effort to open them again is monumental. When he lowers his face to kiss her it is terribly gentle and maybe it’s not on purpose. Maybe it’s just because he’s tired, but it makes her melt. 

Without a reason not to, her hands wander. Slide over the row of tiny gray buttons on his shirt, push the boundaries of his collar. They graze along his throat and through the short dark hair on his scalp, barely there but for the way it catches on her fingerprints. She presses closer before they part, her dazed and him borderline delirious.

“Ok, go shower,” she urges him. “And don’t doze off in there. I’ll have to make fun of you.”

“After that? It is unlikely I’ll be able to sleep at all.” But his dopey grin belies the truth. “Though if you are concerned for my well-being, you are more than welcome to join me.”

Gods, she never sees it coming. He slides straight from stumbling and sleep-deprived to smooth insinuation like it’s his default setting and she wants to say yes. But she knows better. 

“See, that sounds sexy right up until you’re trying to get to sleep with my hair dripping cold water all over the both of us. Besides, I have some snooping to do.” Teasing, of course. She doesn’t care where he keeps his linens or what lies hidden under his socks.

“By all means, peek anywhere you like. Except the attic, which is strictly off-limits.”

Her eyes light up. “Why, what’s in the attic?”

But he only laughs and heads up the stairs. Pauses halfway up and calls down, “Do you need anything?”

Right on cue.

“I’m good,” she assures him. “Go.”

A sharp squeak is followed by the rush of water through old pipes as she skims the shit on his refrigerator. A coupon for an oil change and receipt from an art supply store. Nothing interesting in the least. His magnets are a confused but equally unenlightening collection of local restaurants’ takeout info and unused metal clips.

A few books sit on the island. Sundered: The Scientific Renaissance of Post-Veil Thedas; The Fade: Fact or Fiction?; and An Exhaustive Documentation of Suspected Elvhen Artifacts Destroyed in the Divine Age. She lifts the cover of the top one, flips pages until she comes to a black business card serving as a makeshift bookmark, scans a few lines:

After their own dark period, the Qunari appear to have focused their collective efforts toward adjusting to these new laws of nature. Extensive, detailed records show rapid technological advancement through experimentation and invention, much of which laid the foundation for generations’ worth of progress. Indeed, many modern conveniences can be traced back to their early successes.

Not exactly light reading. Though pretty typical for him, she suspects. What unsettles her is not the books or the boring refrigerator door. It’s the fact that in all of these rooms—the entryway, the study, the kitchen, the living room—all these living spaces, there are no pictures. Not of anyone. His home is steeped in history, but not his own. She's good at being alone, but at least when she inevitably uproots she takes the memories with her. He has nothing. No drawer full of snapshots to match hers, like some sort of trail to prove his existence.

Maybe they’re just very different people. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to prove anything. Maybe he isn’t the type to take pictures. Or to keep them. Maybe his memories are painful. Maybe they were lost in some tragic accident that hasn’t come up in conversation yet.

Or maybe she’s reading into stuff she shouldn’t be. Again.

At the top of the stairs are two doors and two doorways. Bathroom’s straight ahead, shower still running. Next to that is a closed door, presumably the attic. The leftmost room is closed as well, but unlocked; there's nothing inside but a few file cabinets. The door to the right hangs open, revealing another bedroom. It is small and tidy with minimal furniture: a dresser and a full-length mirror, and a large bed flush with the corner, the thick crimson comforter slightly rumpled near the pillows on one side as if slept in, then hastily remade. A singular nightstand bears a simple swing-arm lamp.

She hunts through his dresser until she finds his T-shirts. Picks a white one with a logo on it from the middle, between freshly-washed and never-been-used. Not beloved—in case he cares—but not the crisp got-it-for-free-and-couldn’t-throw-it-out kind either. Sheds her clothes that smell like beer and citrus and bitters, all but her underwear and leaves them folded neatly on top of the dresser. Then she pulls on his shirt and knocks on the bathroom door frame.

“It’s open,” he yells, and she rolls her eyes. “Extra toothbrushes are in the lower right drawer, and the toothpaste is behind the mirror.”

“Uh huh,” she answers, but is beginning to regret turning down his offer. The shower curtain is nothing but a clear liner and with no door to keep it in, the steam does blessedly little to conceal his form. There’s still time; for more than a moment she contemplates stripping back down and slipping in, but then he shuts off the water and stretches a dripping arm out for his towel so she goes for the toothbrush instead.

By the time he emerges with that same towel wrapped around his hips, she’s finished and gives his reflection an appreciative glance.

He returns it and tugs on her sleeve. “The Lothering Museum of History will be thrilled to have your endorsement.”

“Why am I not surprised that you don’t have a real shower curtain?”

“This curtain is perfectly sufficient.”

“Hey.” Athi raises her hands and follows him into the bedroom. “Not complaining.”

She also doesn’t complain about the precious seconds between him losing the towel and gaining a pair of pajama pants. He’s fit. Cut, not bulky. Studying old stuff and reading books and attending conferences can’t possibly be a direct line to muscle definition and she wonders what he does to work out. If they could do it together. He doesn’t strike her as a runner, but he might enjoy climbing.

Solas interrupts her plans with a brief kiss, trades the overhead light for the bedside one. Four in the morning is hardly late by her standards, but she can tell as his head hits the pillow that he feels it. He tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles, sleepy and sideways.

“Thank you for coming over.”

Athi turns her head and kisses his fingers and whispers, “Thank you for getting naked.”

She’ll be the funny one forever if it means his nose will always crinkle like that.

“I am sorry that I am not—”

“No.” She presses a thumb to his lips to cut short his apology. “That’s not what I’m here for. Really enjoyed the view, though.”

His face is shadowed by the same light shining in her eyes, but the expression he wears is warm. He hits the switch and the room goes dark. She scoots in closer. Tangles their legs. Wriggles until she’s comfortable. It doesn’t take long, like a sign, or a nod from the universe.

We just fit.

Solas is asleep before she’s even ready to try. There are freckles scattered across his shoulders, constellations to trace while she waits. Tries to match his languid breathing. Thinks about where his pictures went. Almost there, then hits the last and loudest stop on her train of thought’s meandering track, and she’s jolted awake.

The bookmark. The business card. The cleaning and packing up. The answer has been stuffed into the back pocket of her least-favorite jeans for weeks.

Seggrit is selling the fucking bar.

--

She wakes up alone. Sprawled out in sheets that smell like him but without the him they belong to. Adjusting, she stares into the middle distance and listens to a faraway set of sounds—the fridge opens, then shuts, the clink of dishes and creak of the floor.

Seggrit is selling the bar. She has no idea what to do with that news except to tell Tali, have her check the books to confirm. They’ve been behind by at least a month for as long as Athi’s worked there, usually more, and if he’s really going to get rid of the place he’ll have had to catch up.

She rolls out of bed, digs her toes into the carpet. It could be nine or noon or later for all she knows. The sun here is strange, and there’s no clock in this room to tell her so she goes searching for one downstairs.

A mosaic-faced antique by the sliding door claims it’s noon.

“Good morning,” Solas says from the kitchen.

She mumbles something resembling words. Seven more steps and she hugs him from behind and they fit so well and his heart is beating fast and he stops whisking eggs to stand there with her all quiet and it’s not morning anymore and he should have stayed in bed and she needs to text Tali and—

“I want coffee,” she whines. Doesn’t mean to whine, but there it is. What if he doesn’t have any? What if he’s one of those people that doesn’t keep coffee in their house?

She might cry.

“There is a bag in the cupboard at the end there, next to the mugs. I was going to make it for you, but—”

“Say no more.”

Gods, she’s glad he didn’t. No one makes it strong enough, and he’s too cute to disappoint so she would have had to drink it anyway. Pretend that pisswater was fine.

Cupboard on the end, right where he said. She slides it off the shelf and can’t help but flutter as she examines the packaging. It’s the same as the ones she bought—or tried to buy then he bought for her—at the coffee shop last year. Or maybe he just asked for “something strong” at the shop and this happened to be what they gave him, but regardless, he thought of her and that feels good all on its own. Her butterflies settle as she opens the bag, breathes in deep. Pours a generous pile into a fresh filter and fills the reservoir with water.

“Roast date on this is yesterday. Did you really leave me sleeping alone in your house?” she teases and pushes the button to start the brew cycle. “What if I had woken up and you were gone?”

“I did consider that possibility, but weighed against the certainty of the alternative, it seemed the wisest course of action.” He arches an eyebrow. “Was I wrong?”

“No.” Athi revisits the cupboard to shuffle through his assortment of mismatched mugs. “And thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She selects one of the mugs, a pleasantly rounded stoneware dip-painted in orange and teal and gray. Her unofficial favorite. There is a newspaper, folded twice, laying on the counter between a plate covered in foil and two clean ones. Solas is reading rather than cooking. Maybe he’s fine with rubbery eggs, but she’s not so she leaves her mug to watch the coffee brew, plucks the spatula from his hand, takes over.

“Seggrit’s selling the bar,” she blurts out as she gently stirs, then scoops a heaping golden spoonful onto each plate. “I think.”

To his credit, Solas looks up from the article he’s so engrossed in. “Really?”

She nods.

“How do we feel about that?”

She shrugs.

“Perhaps you should buy it,” he says and moves his plate and his paper to the island. Yanks open the silverware drawer and hands her a fork. “You wanted to put your name on something, right?”

She snorts. “Didn’t mean literally.”

They eat breakfast right there in the kitchen. Hip to hip, or as close as she can get. Sausage from under the foil and rich maple syrup and toast and almost-perfect scrambled eggs and coffee he bought and didn’t make just for her.

Not a bad morning, truth be told.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Solas asks out of nowhere.

“Hmm?”

He is watching her intently and it occurs to her that she’s been grinning at empty space this whole time.

“Oh,” she says, “it’s nothing,” but her face won’t cooperate and Solas doesn’t buy it.

“It must be quite a pleasant piece of nothing to warrant such a smile. Are you sure it’s not something?” His voice drops low and he leans closer. “Perhaps even something you want to share with me?”

“They say 'bits' here, by the way. ‘Two bits for your thoughts.’ Just so you know.”

“Fascinating.” He doesn’t even pretend to sound sincere.

Oh, she wants to be brave. She makes him work a little harder for it. Keeps it locked up tight until he says please, then she scrunches her nose up where the honesty tickles, and spills even though it’s scary.

“I just . . . it’s nice waking up with you, and”—damn her burning cheeks—“I could get used to it. That’s all.”

Meeting his eyes afterward is a rush. Risk and reward all wrapped up in one because he is beaming right back at her.

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Fuck it. Athi polishes off her coffee. Slides her plate away and faces him fully. Fills her chest with air and bravado. “So what do you want?”

He looks at her quizzically.

“Yeah, context. Before we kissed—at my place, like for real—you asked what I wanted. I said I wanted you, which, I mean, I’ve wanted you since . . . ” She wants to say since the beginning but that’s so fucking cheesy. “Gods, since the coffee shop, I think. But when I asked what I meant to you, you deflected.”

Solas pauses. His gaze drifts, then snaps back. “You are right. I apologize.”

“Also not an answer.”

A full minute, or maybe an hour, passes as he percolates. She can almost see him directing his thoughts this way and that, organizing a response that shouldn’t be this complicated while her own mind skitters from one unsavory possibility to the next. 

“Should’ve sent my questions in ahead of time,” she jokes.

A brief, self-deprecating chuckle as he folds his fingers around hers. “In all fairness, your answer to the same question was efficient, but also vague. Is it so wrong of me to consider my own more carefully?”

“Got me there.”

“I was not trying to win. This conversation is an important one, and I feel it must be approached with both candor and subtlety.”

Candor and subtlety? Athi sighs. New tactic. “Listen, did you avoid the question on purpose?” 

She takes a steady breath—

“No.”

—and lets it out. “Well then, to be honest, I was kind of hoping we could make out at some point today so . . . how about we put the heavy conversation on hold, just for now, and I return the favor and make this easy for you?”

Solas’ smile is indulgent, if a bit weary. “That would be fine.”

“Good. Ok.” She leans her chin on one hand. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Like, not just sleeping over and having breakfast, even though we’re obviously really good at that. The whole deal.”

He smirks. “Yes.”

“Only me?”

“Yes.”

Athi claps her hands together. “Good! Excellent response time,” she says, satisfied. Stacks their dishes while she speaks. “Anything else to add?”

“That’s it? That is all you want to know?” A mixture of relief and disappointment is plain on his face.

“Ha! Cute. No, see, I want to hear that elaborate answer of yours, I do. I want to know absolutely every single thought you’ve had about me since day one. Also why you stopped coming to the bar”—she starts counting off on her fingers—“and how long you’ve felt this way, what you and Bull get up to at your secret little club meetings, about a zillion other things . . . But as I said,” and she shrugs, “I have plans.”

“I stopped coming to the bar because I already felt this way. Not”—he gestures between them—“exactly this way, of course, but the first stirrings of it. I had been alone a long time, and it frightened me. Next question.”

“Hold on. Same question. You’ve liked me that long?”

“Yes, though I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, did not notice. If anything, I have been too demonstrative of my feelings this past year. Given the circumstances, that is.”

“Too demonstra— Seriously?” Athi is at a loss. Frozen mid-bewildered-flailing, mouth agape like he’s just grown another pair of eyes right in front of her. “Maybe I, of all people, didn’t notice because we spent all that time together and you never said shit, and then—and then!— you invited me over to ask for dating advice which kind of cancelled out any prior feelings you may have demonstrated. I mean, what the fuck?”

“Ah, that’s right.” Solas sighs heavily. “I suppose we may as well sort this out now.”

“Yeah,” she hisses. “Let’s.” She props one elbow on the counter, rests her chin on her fist. Waits for an explanation.

“Athi,” and he scratches his jaw. “I do not know exactly how you remember that conversation going, but the subject of my inquiry—the woman I mentioned meeting—was you.”

Three beats to process, then: “What!?”

He winces—fair, it was piercing—and he half-hides his face in his hands before continuing. “I was attempting to casually express my interest and it did not occur to me that you’d misunderstood my meaning until recently. At the time, I assumed that you were simply not as interested as I had allowed myself to believe and therefore left before the situation became uncomfortable.”

“Well, I did do that.”

“Then, while I was away, I became convinced that a misunderstanding was possible if not probable, so I resolved to try again once I returned.”

“Oh no . . . ” she trails off and grimaces, and Solas just nods.

Such a mess, and for no fucking reason. They stand there in a dazed silence for a while, looking at anything but each other. Finally, Athi peeks over and Solas has his head hanging low like a puppy shamed for eating from the garbage. It’s so sad and so stupid and she can’t keep from laughing. First a little, then a lot, then he’s laughing right along with her.

“So you’re telling me,” she wheezes out between giggles. “We could have been banging for no less than six months already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She’s swept away by another wave of laughter. When it finally subsides, she’s left with aching cheeks and tears in her eyes.

“Come on,” she says and grabs his hand, squeezes it tight, pulls him toward the stairs.

“What? Where are we going?”

“To make up for lost time.”

[mikeshanlon]

do you like astrology and if you do what signs do you think the losers are

Okay so shoutout @denbrough (mo) for helping me with this, also @stenbranlons (claudia) for nodding alongin our gc, I’m sorry we talked about this for like a week RGLKNRG. To preface,we are in no way astrology experts lmao, we pulled from several differentsources and picked which ones we felt fit best. Which, that being said, we didnot consider any of the canon birthdays for this, just vibes. Ik some peopleare very particular about astrology headcanons LGRNG so these are just our ownopinions, any differing ones are not less valid or whatever. Also, charts arevery complex and have many different factors, like Mercury for communicationand Venus for love, etc, we just decided to do the main three placements. Incase some of y’all don’t know, someone’s Sun sign is essentially their basicidentity and personality, it’s how we act in the world, and our conscious mind.Our moon sign is our emotional self, our unconscious, how we react tothings, our deepest needs. Some astrologists say this is more like our “trueself”. One’s rising or ascendant sign is our social personality, it is howpeople perceive us, and often how we perceive the world and new experiences—it representsthe “outward”. Some refer to it as the mask we wear around others, though thatdoes not mean our rising/ascendant is fake, but rather how we act and thinkwhen interacting with our environment. Anyways because this is me, theseexplanations became super fucking long so I’m sorry about that! This was superfun though, thank you for asking!

Bill:

Leo Sun: Leos are leaders, theyare very charming and pull people in with their loyalty, humor, and confidence.All of the losers love Bill and are very enraptured by him, Leos tend to be inthe spotlight and adored, so I think this is very fitting. They always want tohelp people but sometimes they can also get fixated and arrogant and end up neglectingwhat others need—for instance Bill being so fixated on finding Georgie that hedoesn’t totally realize the other losers are really scared and getting hurt. Still,Leos are very inspiring and fearless and want their people to be happy. Leosare also quite romantic and generous, which I think are traits that can beattributed to Bill.

Cancer Moon: Okay so I have alwayssaid Bill has Big Cancer Energy, but I think it makes most sense as hisemotional self. Cancers are caretaker types; they want the best for theirfriends and do whatever they can to help them. They are persuasive—sometimes tothe point of manipulation. Many Cancers are afraid of rejection/abandonment(hello Bill’s shitty parents and him holding onto the idea of his brother foras long as possible!) Because they are so caring and sensitive towards theirfriends, they can be quite moody—both anger and sadness. (Bill be Crying andpunching his friends sometimes doe!) Cancers like art and are very imaginative(Bill’s art and writing). When I think of Cancers, I think of tender h*rniness.They fall in love very easily and crave a deep love and can be v thirsty attimes lmao, to me that really encapsulates Bill. Cancer Moons are also verydomestic and love comfort, and while I think Bill likes to go on adventures, Ithink he is someone who enjoys a sort of domestic routine with the people heloves from time to time. Cancer also rules the moon so he’s Extra EmotionalLNRGRG.

Aries Rising: Those with Ariesrising are often leaders, lively, generous, warm, and have a reputation ofbeing a troublemaker. They are rash and jump into situations (HELLO BILL KINGOF DUMB IMPULSE DECISIONS). But, they are very engaging and can be greatmotivational speakers (Neibolt speech teas). They want to help friends to thepoint that if they refuse, an Aries rising individual will refuse to acceptthat rejection. Furthermore, sometimes they can come off a bit like arrogantassholes, but they really do care about their friends and just want to helperklgneg. Aries rising people are very emotional and their impulsiveness cansometimes translate into rushing serious relationships.

Mike:

Libra Sun: Libras are very diplomatic;they bring harmony and balance and can see multiple sides. I think this fitsMike very well, for instance during the scene where the losers are by the PaulBunyan statue, Mike understands why Stan is looking at this logically but healso understands Bill’s emotional reaction. He also understands why Bill andBeverly think they should stay together and help, but he also understands whyRichie/Ben/Stan don’t want to keep going. He tries to get everyone to calm thefuck down and cooperate. Libras hate conflict, aside from Mike’s nonviolence(not wanting to kill the sheep and hesitating to hurt Henry until he knew itwas life or death), he also avoided telling all the losers about why he askedthem to return, showing sometimes his aversion to conflict can be a negative. Librasoften get fixated on one thing—the crazy conspiracist Mike of it all… Iunderstand why people think he could be a Taurus because of his commitment tothe losers and staying in Derry for 27 years, but I think that is super tied tothe idea of bringing justice for those who P*nnywise killed and will try to kill,Libras are super into fighting against injustice. Also, Libras are ruled byVenus and love love and are very charming, I think Mike has a certain pull andmagnetism about him.

Taurus Moon: Individuals withtheir moon in Taurus are very warm, affectionate, and sentimental. They like togather all the facts but can be somewhat impressionable, again I think thismakes sense with how he decides that he believes pennywise exists and hisresearch as he stays in Derry. Speaking of, this line from Mo’s book killed me:“when you’re confronted with a problem you look for the most effective way todeal with it, and even if it’s personally painful for you, you get it handled”.Like. Oh my god. They also like creature comforts—often Taurus is linked withluxury but I think in this sense his ‘luxury’ is his kitschy clutter of thingsthat hold sentimental value—supernatural items, knick knacks from his childhood,his favorite books, etc. He holds these dear and this is probably why his homeis a big ol mess but he likes it and finds it cozy. Speaking of, they are veryromantic and want a life of domesticity, which feels very Mike to me! Theyinvest a lot in their friendships, I think this is true of Mike as well seeingas you know.. he sacrifices years of his life so they can be happy.

Capricorn Rising: Those withCapricorn rising can be quite shy with strangers, but once they get to knowpeople, they are very friendly and warm. They are very dedicated to theirgoals, these goals are often to strive for a better life (Mike wanting to savethe people of Derry, Mike wanting to travel, etc). But sometimes this strivingcan make Cap risings feel unfulfilled and they continue to search for somethingmissing. Capricorn rising individuals are smart and concentrated, they are ableto parse through information and plan ahead, though sometimes they go overevery detail too much—Mike is very into research and understanding things andsearches every possibility. They love deeply and are very loyal and protectiveof those they love. They can worry a lot. Mo also added that cap risings are dependent,reliable, and stable. which can be attributed to mike staying in derry allthose years and keeping that promise to call them. Overall he’s very groundedand down to earth with his rising/moon!

Stan:

Virgo Sun: Virgos are veryanalytical and pay attention to the little details. Often times, this leads tothem being very critical of themselves and others, and they are prone toworrying. I think Stan is someone who tries to navigate through life logically,but he can get caught up in the anxieties of everything going wrong and getoverwhelmed. They often like animals and nature (not to be like Stan likesbirds and plants and shit but he does GLKNRG), and value cleanliness, sometimesthis leads to germaphobia or hypochondria especially because Virgos tend toworry (and we know Stan is a germophobe and deals with OCD, he has to clean thebloody bathroom in a certain way, the painting needs to be perfectly straight,etc.). In friendships, Virgos usually play a role of an advisor—they are veryloyal and want to solve problems but sometimes that means they find problems ineverything (I think Stan tries to advise the group but also Bill is like okaylet’s do it like this

Pisces Moon: Some people view Stanas very emotionless or even angry, but I think he’s quite emotional, he justtries to operate with logic first. Pisces moons are often described as ‘dreamy’and want to escape reality (Stan being like it’s summer let’s just forget what’sgoing on and… other stuff lmao). They are very emotional, but those emotionscan be hard for others to read because they are very mysterious, and even hardfor the individual to express. They have a strange sense of humor (kookiekookie lend me your bonessssss). Those with Pisces moon are very sweet andsensitive to others suffering and are drawn to those in crisis often (like.Literally all of the losers LKGNRKRG) and can be overly trusting (I swear Bill!!!).They are also very afraid of the past coming back to haunt them… :(. Mo the ultimate Stan stan also had this to say: ever since claudia tagged one ofmy posts about stan being one of the most emotional losers but no one evertalking about it, i'm constantly thinking about how stan reacts to things. myinitial reaction was scorpio moon, but scorpio moons are really good at hidingtheir emotions. think about stan's reactions to big events in his life: gettingleft alone in the sewers, his bar mitzvah getting mike's call. he has distinctemotional reactions. pisces is also the sign of sorrow and self-undoing, sothinking back to some canon events it just makes a lot of sense to me. piscesmoons are also really selfless when it comes to their friends, but very strictand disciplined when it comes to themselves.

Aquarius Rising: There’s thissection in Mo’s astrology book that just like. So completely encapsulates Stanand how he interacts with the losers imo: “You are often intolerant of otherpeople’s shortcomings and can be wickedly sarcastic and very funny at the sametime. Your razor-sharp powers of observation help you uncover flaws that youcan poke fun at. You are a system of paradoxes. You enjoy being with people butare perfectly content to be alone. You like to travel but love relaxing athome. You are friendly and outgoing but, at other times, moody and reserved.” Like!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Also, those with their rising in Aquarius are very idealistic and want theworld to be happy and harmonious (Stan being like its summer can we chill andnot wanting to be part of any conflict). They can also feel impatient towardsthose who don’t share the same vision.

Beverly: (imma be honest Bev was the hardest toplace so don’t judge lerngerg)

AquariusSun: To me, Aquarians are the epitome of like… chill/friendly stonerthat likes to talk about conspiracy theories and injustices of the world whiley’all are seshing but they are also kinda mysterious bc you never really knowwhats going on in their head …. which is v Bev to me RLGKNNKRG. Aquarians lovehanging out with friends and are really good listeners, which I think is trueof Beverly—they also have odd senses of humor. They are humanitarians that liketo fight for justice, I think Bev is someone who wants to fight for those whoare being hurt bc it’s something she has experienced and wants to provide thehelp that she didn’t get. For instance, she’s the one who’s like we need to gosave Mike, and she also wants to help save Derry and agrees with Bill that theyshould keep fighting Pennywise during the big fight after Neibolt. Aquarians canbe quite paradoxical—at times they are shy, other times loud and eccentric, Ithink this makes sense for Bev, another quality is that those with their sun inAquarius like to have some time alone, both of these things make me think ofthe moments she enjoys on her own and the other times she seeks out fun withthe losers and does crazy shit like jump off a cliff LKGNKNRG. They can bekinda bad at emotional expression and are very guarded with their emotions,sometimes coming of cold/bitchy until they know they can trust someone (Bev toBen at first on the stairs elrkgnerg).

Aquarius Moon: okay Mo wrote this explanation and I thot it was perfect so: Moon in Aquarius brings upthe qualities of sensitivity and perception. Since aqua is the sign of rationalthinking and humanitarianism, moon in Aquarius gives a person a clear mindsetand kinder outlook on life. Moon in Aqauarius are rational, intuitive, andimaginative, which i think can speak for a lot of beverly's character traitsand actions like her monologue in it 2017 where she tries to rationally explainwhy pennywise is going after them and how they have to defeat it, whereaseveryone else is struck by fear and emotional, or at the end of it 2019 whereshe tells richie that eddie is dead, and being intuitive enough to know thatshe has to tell him and tell him in a specific way, the imagination quality isa clear call to her artistic vision as a designer. aqua moons have greatvitality, they're witty conversationalists, and all around great friends. ithink that the friendliness and sociability of her aqua moon can be offset byher sag rising so there's more balance and nuance to her characteristics there.they're interested in the unusual, specifically in people, which could link herto vibing so well with the losers club. they can't stand possessive or jealouslovers, but they unconsciously choose people who aren't available to them (herfirst husband). they need a fine line between commitment and independence,which i think speaks to her behavior as a kid. she needs the stability and thespace to grow she didn't have from her dad. they deeply value platonic love. overall,aqua moons are independent, they have stimulating minds, persuasive charms, anda side of their personality that will always gear towards the unusual

SagittariusRising: Sagittarians love hanging out with their friends, but they alsohave the desire to be free and have adventures (I want to run towardssomething, not away! Queen). They are wise but optimistic, again I think thisties with things like her understanding that they all have to stick together tobeat pennywise, but also believing that they have the ability to kill It aswell. They are humorous and can be quite outgoing and confident, there aretimes when Bev is v confident and wild (teasing Ben, jumping off the cliff,initiating the rock war, etc). Sag risings are also v brave—like every single timeshe fights It or the Bowers or her dad or her husband. They’re good at tellingstories. They are also people who fight for the oppressed and want to createideas that help the world.

Ben:

Pisces Sun: Pisces are super friendlyand will do anything to help others even if they don’t get anything back(Ben!!!!!!!! Ben!!!!!!). They are very compassionate and gentle with others, I thinkthis is very true for Ben as he is p much always super sweet and understanding withthe losers. Their compassion can sometimes lead to being way too trusting—this canbe a problem bc they could fall in with bad company and hate being criticizedand sometimes views themselves as a victim. I don’t think Ben ever tries to like…capitalize on being a victim or anything but I think he does feel that waysometimes especially in regards to Bill/Bev, but he understands that’s her owndecision, again being very compassionate and not expecting anything out of hisactions. Sometimes their strong emotions can manifest in negative ways, likebeing scared, sad, and feeling misunderstood—they also can cry p easily (Ben criesquite a bit for his friends like in the sewers and his own romantic feelingsand stuff). They are super romantic and love unconditionally. They are also quiteintuitive, I think this makes sense (in tandem with the romanticism) withthings like kissing Bev to save her, understanding where to look into stuff inregard to the pennywise bullshit, etc.

Taurus Moon: We’ve talked aboutthis a bit with Mike, but I think Ben is also a Taurus Moon! LunarTaureans are very sentimental and have deep, strong emotions. They are vromantic and hang on to their relationships, both platonic and romantic, (thepostcard…….) they want a devoted and committed relationship that providessecurity. Those with their moon in Taurus really invest a lot in their friendships,I think friendship is one of if not the most important thing to Ben so thismakes a lot of sense to me. There’s a line in one of the sites I looked at thatfeels SO Ben to me: “Taurus moon sign energy has two speeds: relaxed andcontented […] or hyped-up and ready to charge”. That totally reminds me of howBen is usually p chill and easy going but when the people he loves arethreatened he goes crazy to protect them (the rock war scream and him going crazyduring that LGKNNRG and fighting pennywise, etc). While Mike’s affinity for luxuryis more like…. Kitschy clutter trash GLNRG, I think Ben’s interest in architecturefeels v luxurious and the importance of a home base makes sense for him. TaurusMoons also like to gather all the facts first—this makes sense in how heapproaches his friendships/relationships but also other things like investigatingDerry.

Libra Rising: Let’s go diplomatic romanticslet’s goooooooooo!!! Libras want harmony and are therefore good mediators, theywant everyone to have a good time and are good at teamwork. I think this makessense for Ben and can especially be seen in scenes like the reunion dinnerwhere he tries to calm everyone down and let Mike be heard. They are persuasivebut often do so with a ‘nice guy’ approach rather than like Charm andConfidence like Leo/Aries. Again, Libra Risings are SUPER romantic and havegood intuition, they usually know when they have a chance with someone and willcreate an ideal vibe for their relationships to bloom. They like to plan aheadfor the future with their loved ones (hello argument scene where he’s like imgonna be 30 and far away from here). They also feel like they need anotherhalf, which i think is true for romance but also just like. He needs hisfriends and really loves/cares about them. Those with their rising in Libraalso really care about home aesthetics and having a balanced space, again I thinkaiding in his architecture career.

Eddie

Sagittarius Sun: Tbh, I was v tornbetween sag and scorpio for Eddie’s sun, but I think Sagittarius best describeshis sun and Scorpio for his emotional self. Sagittarians are curious and fullof energy, and they value freedom (hello let Eddie be free!!!!!!). They can besuper impatient and tactless with some of the things they say, which is a veryEddie thing to me lernrgge. Furthermore, they can get angry pretty quickly aswell, and often talk quickly too (Eddie speaks so fucking fast and snaps easilyat everyone erglknegr). They also have good senses of humor; they like to teaseothers. Those with sun in Sagittarius are dedicated to their friends and arewilling to do anything… like defy their awful mother and crawl through a sewerwith a broken arm to fight a murderous clown. Sometimes they have blind faithin others, which I think could be translated to his relationship with Bill andto a more intense and negative respect, his mother. Sags want to find knowledgeand understand other people’s beliefs, and they are very vocal about their own,even to the point of exaggeration (like every single rant Eddie goes on LMAO).They also like sports which like LET EDDIE RUNNNN. Also, not to be a reddie butin looking at compatibility with the signs Gemini/Sag fit so much better forthem and made a lot of sense to me.

Scorpio Moon: Those with theirmoon in Scorpio are very emotionally intense and can be quite dramatic. Thiscan allow them to be quite perceptive of the emotions of others. However, theyare very good at hiding their own emotions because they often disprove of themand deny that they are motivated by their strong emotions. (hello repressedEddie). This helps Scorpio moons feel in control, but it can be detrimental. Ireally love this line from Mo’s book: “you must learn to let go emotionally andfeel your pain, and through the experience expand your phenomenalability to love”. Yup lover!!!! Scorpio moons are also very determined andpersistent…. fighter eddie!! Lover and fighter eddie!!! This made me kinda sad,but it says that there’s usually sorrow/trouble in the lives of Moon-Scorpiosand those are often tied to family and health… :/ and that they think ofescapist fantasies to cope with that. Scorpio moons are sensual but thestereotype of ~super sexy scorpio~ is kind of misleading. They have huge trustissues and don’t want to be controlled (oop… also they usually get married multipletimes lmao), it takes a lot for them to be trusting in love but when they do it’sa very deep love.

Virgo Rising: Those with theirrising in Virgo are BIG worriers and are super analytical, they often noticetiny details. (Maybe a dumb thing but Eddie is always the first to notice whenone of their friends is gone in the sewers, also in more funny and little wayslike him sniffing Ben’s perfume—that also ties in with his Sag curiosity imo).However, even though they notice details and can be intuitive, they miss out onemotional nuances. Sometimes they can be a little too forward and matter offact with people—I think Eddie speaks before he thinks a lot LKRG and can saysome rude shit sometimes without realizing it. (Ik this is kinda like my own stuffbleeding through but in general I think Eddie can be oblivious to other’semotions LRNGKNLG). They are very critical—often towards themselves, they areinsecure and beat themselves up over just about every little thing they do (SUCHan Eddie thing to me). Furthermore, they are guarded with their emotions untilthey have analyzed the situation and feel comfortable (again. Very Eddie tome). This often means they come off as timid and at times cold/stand-offish,which I think in new situations or times when Eddie’s unsure (aka has not analyzedeverything and feels unsafe whether physically or with his emotions), he tendsto draw in on himself and stay quiet. (But, then, his fire Sag side comes burstingout when he just can’t take it anymore and goes bonkers LKGRNG). Virgo risingsare organized and care about hygiene and cleanliness and are very in tune withtheir body (of course, Eddie’s obsession with cleanliness and hygiene/healthhas a lot to do with his mother’s abuse, but I also think there are some parts withinhim inherently who care about those things, it just got exacerbated in anextremely negative way bc of his mother). Interestingly, Virgo risings are veryenergetic, often with nervous energy, and have a hard time staying still—this feelsvery Eddie to me, his pacing and emphatic hand gestures, etc.

Richie:

Gemini Sun: Geminis are superwitty and funny and love to have a grand ol’ chaotic time with their friends,but then can turn serious suddenly. Oftentimes they feel restless and feel likethey are missing their other half so to speak (the yearning… the emo moments…).They’re very sociable and hate being alone, they love to entertain others, theyare strong communicators. Their love for communication often means they feelthe need to talk A LOT, even to strangers. (Trashmouth Tozier always talking!—Mopointed out that Richie’s talking is so bad that they had to create a separate phase,beep beep, just to be like We Seriously Want You To Shut Up, which I thinkmakes sense for all his placements bc they’re all like. One’s where the person talksso fucking much GRLNRG my annoying king

Gemini Moon: Yup double geminilove this obnoxious legend!!! (jk I like geminis but. It’s true. I am also sayingthis as a gemini moon). A lot of the stuff about his sun can be applicable herebut I’ll add on bc I am incapable of shutting up (the gemini moon of it all…) Thisis from Mo’s book again, I’ll just add some commentary/examples as to why Ithink it fits with Richie: Gemini moons are mutable and erratic. they have anactive mind, and imaginative and creative personality, and are inclined to intellectualpursuits. they have extraordinary quick sensory impressions of the outsideworld and they rapidly sift through info in their minds to make judgements.fast learners, high iqs probably , good critics and have the ability to bothanalyze and verbalize (despite some fanon interpretations, Richie is actually reallysmart, he’s good at math/science, I believe he’s also into politics later in college?).they have great charm. conversations with gemini moons tend to go off onunexpected tangents and take sudden turns and reverse (This feels SO Richie tome lekrnglenr). at heart, a lunar gemini is essentially restless and needsconstant stim (Makes sense for Richie for me, also with his ADHD, he needs tobe playing video games or reading a comic or doing this and that, he hatedhaving to be look out and do nothing for like an hour ergklnerg). lunargemini's are always mentally assessing their feelings. they tend to dissecttheir feelings and emotions to analyze why they think or behave in a certainway. they're quick witted and vibrant and can change their minds often. inemotional relationships they display a free spirit, going on the whims of theother person's emotions. at times their talent can be isolated because theylose interest in this quickly and drop their projects. they perform well whenin a relationship with someone practical and hardheaded (inch resting……..)

Pisces Rising: Taking some morestuff from Mo’s book, these lines I think really resonate with Richie’s outwardself and how he deals with the world: “You want life to be perfect and since itisn’t, you choose not to see what you don’t want to see”. That is SUCH a Richiething to me. “At parties Rising-Pisceans are vivacious and verbal (sometimesyou talk too much); you enjoy performing in front of a group. A talent formimicry makes many Pisces Ascendants turn to theater”. Literally Richie… the Voices,the talking too much and wanting to entertain the losers…. Those with Piscesrising are also very romantic and want to live a fantasy life, but they can bevery sad and moody especially because they feel like they are destined to bealone. (Richie yearning gay….) They are also quite disorganized but work wellin groups (let’s go loserssss clubbbbbb!!!).

[artificialqueens]

break up with ur girlfriend (3/3) - dartmouth420

a/n: part 3: in which Raven makes an ethically questionable decision, Raja really doesn’t like mornings, absolutely nothing will crush Manila’s positive attitude, and Jujubee throws a curve ball

basically ye olde morning after weirdness

thanks for reading :)

Raven awoke tired and a little hungover in bed with Manila and Raja. She raised her head and sighed, then noticed the tall glass of water on the bedside table. She loosely remembered Raja padding out of the room just as Raven was drifting off (thoroughly fucked out and happy) and placing something on the bedside table. That was kind of her, especially considering the circumstances in which they’d met. Raven raised the glass and took a big drink, appreciative.

Raven sat on the edge of the bed quietly, not wanting to wake them. Maybe she’d go and make coffee or something. Or maybe she should just leave. Raven glanced over her shoulder. A perfect ray of sunlight was hitting the bed where Manila and Raja were still curled up, asleep, and whole thing was aesthetically glorious.

Raven wondered if what was about to do was ethical. But then she shrugged, and raised her phone. Also, she really liked them, and might be interested in seeing them again, so she held no malicious intent.

The photo she took was from a strong angle, consisting of the corner of her face, one eye visible, eyebrow raised, blonde hair smooth close to her head. Behind her was the bed, and Raja and Manila curled up, still asleep. Raja was deep in the covers, only one closed eye, her forehead and a streak her long grey hair visible. Manila was next to Raja, lying on her back fast asleep with her mouth open, the cover pulled up to her chin.

She hit send.

BITCH replied Juju, quickly, with about eighteen emojis, you fucked them both???

you bet replied Raven, smug.

Wait a sec, Juju replied. Then the second text came in.

ohhhhhh YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE IT

what?? Raven looked down at her phone, concerned.

BITCH THE GIRL ON THE LEFT IS MY SECOND COUSIN

The blood drained from Raven’s face, and she looked back at Manila, who was… well, a young woman who’s last name she hadn’t asked for and who’s social media who hadn’t checked out. But in a big, multicultural city like this who would’ve expected her to be related to Raven’s best friend?

fuckkkk

Juju sent her a text containing twenty laugh-crying emojis and one devil, followed by a vomit-face.

uhhhh, don’t be grossed out but she’s hot, replied Raven, who was finding the situation as distressing as it was funny. This new factoid raised the stakes, seeing this couple was no longer an entirely anonymous entity.

She mildly regretted sending the photo. Maybe it was an invasion of privacy.

BITCH DON’T TELL ME THAT ABOUT MY COUSIN

idk if anyone knows she’s gay tbh that whole side of the family is pretty religious

i didn’t know lol

oh shit I’m sorry… was just trying to brag to u about my conquest haha

why are u like this it’s fucked up lol

idk lol

thanks for telling me

but like

i might wanna see her again?

maybe both of them ;) ??? typed out Raven, hitting send with some mild guilt. She’d definitely need to sit down and think about this later. After she had some caffeine.

o really?

yeah…

aw <3

Raven smiled at the phone. She really loved Juju, they’d been best friends since college, and truly shared everything.

can’t wait to be ur in-law, teased Juju,

imma bring u really cheap wedding gifts

ur getting an off-brand slow cooker

BITCH!

anyway g2g <3 <3

hmu later <3

Raven got up and walked to the bathroom. She quickly rinsed her face and mouth. She put the unexpected information from Juju about Manila aside for now, and decided not address it. This really wasn’t the time or the place. Then she padded over to the kitchen. It was a bit cluttered, clearly well-used and loved.

There was an espresso machine on the counter, and Raven grinned. She knew how to work one of those, having done the time in her early twenties as a barista. While the water heated, Raven looked at the pictures on the fridge. There were kitschy magnets from a few places around the world, ‘Paris, je t'aime!’, and several photos, including two goofy school pictures of Raja and Manila respectively. Manila glared at the camera, about thirteen and deep in an emo phase, judging by her racoon-like eyeliner, back-combed hair and striped long-sleeved shirt. Raja’s picture was more innocent, a goofy-looking androgynous nine-year old with a big smile, round face and black hair sticking up awkwardly.

Raven snorted a laugh. She appreciated this couple’s sense of humour, displaying silly pictures on their fridge.

She sighed. She shared her apartment somewhat resentfully with two room mates. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it was cheap and because of that she’d been able to put aside some savings. If only Tyra would do the dishes every once in a while. Not to mention she was pretty sure Nicole had a crush on her, and she had to figure out how to let the other girl down easy. In fact, Nicole was probably taking her dog for a walk right now. Raven winced and sighed. Whatever, these were problems for Future Raven. Hopefully she’d find a better job soon, and move on.

The espresso machine was gurgling, so Raven moved over and dealt with it.

A few minutes later she snuck back into the bedroom with three cups of espresso. She was a little nervous, this wasn’t something she’d normally do. She was more of a leave immediately after sex or quickly in the morning kind of lover. But this felt like the right thing.

She put the coffee on the bedside table and sat on the bed, heart suddenly beating quickly.

The movement of Raven sitting back down on the bed disrupted Manila, who blinked her eyes open and yawned, stretching. The movement then woke Raja, who groaned and buried her face deeper into the pillow, disappearing under the duvet. Manila blinked and smiled sleepily at Raven.

“Good morning… oh! You made coffee!” said Manila, and she threw the covers off and made for the bedside table where Raven had put the little cups, “Oh my god, is that espresso?”

“Did somebody say espresso?” muttered Raja from deep in the blankets.

“Yeah, I made some,” said Raven, gently.

“That’s nice, you’re so sweet!” enthused Manila, kissing Raven on the cheek. Manila was shockingly perky, having been awake for less than one minute, “And I thought you were all mean and sexy last night…”

“She’s great. Keep your voice down,” muttered Raja.

Raven stifled a laugh, and sipped her own coffee. Manila crawled off the bed and threw on a robe, before sitting next to Raven and drinking her coffee in silence. Eventually, a long brown arm stuck out of the pile of covers that contained Raja, and Manila carefully put the cup of espresso into her hand. The arm retreated into the pile of covers almost cartoonishly. The only evidence of Raja’s existence was a small slurp and a happy sigh.

“I had a really nice time with you two, last night,” whispered Raven, putting a hand on Manila’s thigh.

“Aw thanks! I did too, and Raja as well,” replied Manila, quietly.

“Lovely, so… I can leave whenever, if you’ve got something you’re doing today-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” replied Manila, smiling so that the edges of her eyes crinkled happily, “Neither of us have plans, you can hang out for breakfast, whatever suits you.”

“Right, well,” replied Raven, her heart glowing a little upon hearing she was welcome to stay, “I really need to shower.”

“Mmm, I think I’ll join you,” said Manila, putting down her cup down. They both glanced back at the pile of blankets and pillows that contained Raja somewhere deep within it.

“Yeah, she won’t be really awake for a while.”

-

Of course, Raven ended up on her knees in the shower eating Manila out against the wall. A truly good start to the day, Raven mused to herself as Manila squirmed and gasped, throwing her head back with pleasure. What could be better?

When they were finally done, they found Raja in the kitchen, starting to cook. The older woman had put her hair up on top of her head in a messy bun, wore dark-rimmed glasses and an elaborately patterned silk robe.

“Your glasses are too cute,” said Raven, as she towelled her hair dry. She was wearing a borrowed bathrobe, one of an apparently infinite supply, “Anything I can help with?”

“No, just sit there and look pretty,” replied Raja, with an affectionate smile.

“That’ll be easy.”

Breakfast was insanely good. It was better than any breakfast Raven had had in a long time, and she’d certainly worked up an appetite. Raja could really cook. They hung around the table for a while, chatting away about plans for the weekend and this and that. Eventually Raven changed, slipping her dress from last night back on, feeling a bit weird next to the other two, who were wearing relaxed weekend clothes. It was time to retreat to her own apartment and chill out.

“I think I’ll call an uber,” said Raven to Raja. Manila was checking her phone, and Raja was putting dishes in the sink.

“I can give you a ride,” said Raja, shrugging.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Raven. She supposed it’d be worth it to save the eight dollars on the ride.

“Manila, you want to come?” asked Raja, half-turning towards the other woman.

“Ah, no, sorry I have to make a call in a few minutes,” said Manila, giving Raven an apologetic smile.

Manila then engaged in a drawn out goodbye with Raven, leaving her with lingering kisses and an exchange of numbers. Raja watched from the door, lacing up her shoes, and raised a single eyebrow. Then Raven got her little purse and left with Raja. Her high-heeled club shoes clicked along the floor of the hallway.

In the carpark under the building, they approached an ugly 90’s style green car.

“Wow, this thing is ancient,” joked Raven, sitting down on the worn passenger seat. But unlike Juju’s car that seemed to be always covered in empty takeout containers and random garbage, Raja’s was meticulously clean. Raven didn’t have a car, but everything she did was comfortably within either cycling or public transit distance, and for anything that wasn’t Juju would drive her.

“Yeah, so everyone tells me,” chuckled Raja, shifting into gear, “But it’s reliable, hasn’t died yet. I made it through Hurricane Katrina in this thing.”

“You can drive stick?” asked Raven, curious, “Also… what?”

“Yep,” replied Raja, winking, “And I’ll tell you that story sometime if you’re lucky.”

“Hmm.” Raven was impressed and she eyed Raja’s tattooed hand on the gearshift as she confidently manoeuvred the car out of the parkade into the street. The bright sun burst through the windshield, and reflected off of Raja’s white Tshirt.

“So,” said Raven as they drove, after she’d given Raja her address. She felt a bit exposed, without any makeup on and her hair still slightly damp from the shower.

“So,” replied Raja, smirking a little at Raven’s uncharacteristic hesitance, “Manila gave you her number, right?”

Raven nodded, and then she had no idea why she said it, but suddenly it was out of her mouth, “It turns out I distantly know her.”

“Oh yeah? From where?”

“She’s my friend Juju’s second cousin.”

Raja stiffened at the mention, shifting the clutch and accelerating through the green light, “You know her family?”

“No. She just happens to be related to her. Juju’s my best friend,” replied Raven, inwardly cursing. Why had she even mentioned it?

“How did you find out?”

“Checked out her instagram this morning, realized the connection,” Raven lied quickly, guilt flaring in her stomach.

“Right. Well. Manila’s family is pretty religious,” said Raja matter-of-factly, but Raven could see lingering resentment in her expression, “Let’s just say they don’t approve of us and leave it at that. Maybe don’t mention this to your friend.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

Raven wondered if she could have handled that better. But then again, family was complicated.

They pulled up at Raven’s soon after that. Raven was having a hard time getting a read on Raja, so she decided to say exactly how she felt and Raja could interpret it however she so desired. They’d been quiet for the last few minutes of the drive. It was a beautiful day, thought Raven, looking out the window at the bright blue sky.

“Well, I had a great time with you two last night and I hope you stay in touch, I’d love to see you again,” said Raven, with a warm smile as she opened the door to get out.

“I had a good time as well,” said Raja, with a half-smile, “I, ah, just felt a bit weird with you bringing up Manila’s family. I’m basically suspicious of anyone who knows them since they’ve been so shitty to us over the years. But yeah, I like you too. Until next time.”

And then Raja leaned in and kissed Raven intently. Raven raised her eyebrows, surprised. And then Raja pulled back and gave her an absolutely filthy grin, and when Raven left the car she waved. Raven waved back and saw in Raja the same goofy energy as she’d seen in the childhood photo on her fridge. It was a bit of a shock after her cool exterior, but charming.

Hmmm. It seemed the night before had worked out in the best way possible. Raven opened the front door to her building and nodded pleasantly to her elderly neighbour, who looked her up and down disapprovingly.

Raven walked up the two flights of stairs towards her apartment, feeling thoroughly satisfied. She had work on Monday and a bunch of laundry and groceries and chores to do before then. Also, Juju would be back Sunday afternoon and she was looking to reuniting with her best friend after their brief time apart.

There was much to discuss.

-

The following morning she received a text.

You doing anything next weekend? :P

Raven raised an eyebrow and replied, new phone who dis

It’s Manila!!! Omg you’re the worst lol

that’s what they all say

hmmmmm i think i’m available friday ;)

Yay!! We’ll be in touch, Manila sent a quick photo of herself and Raja, a selfie in Raja’s car. Manila was sticking her tongue out at the camera and Raja was looking at something out of frame, light reflecting off her glasses. There were bags full of groceries behind them in the back seat.

Raven smiled down at her phone like a love-struck fool.

[seanfalco]

If you've already answered this and I just missed it, oopsie. But do you have any Punk headcanons about how their tour bus would be set up? Who's bunking with who? Who's the messiest? Does anyone collect souvenirs from all the cities they play?

*rubs hands together*  thank you for the ask nonny! I had to look at photos of tour bus interiors for this (and I also conferred with kat as well for ideas lol)  :3

the inside of the bus is described by the reader as “cozy”, so it’s a little cramped, but still comfortable

there’s seating toward the front with long sofa type benches built into the sides of the bus and a couple stand alone chairs (bolted into the floor of course), as well as a flat screen tv

it’s the perfect area for hanging out in and Jaskier often will play his guitar here

behind that there’s a kitchenette area with a booth for eating at, a mini fridge, toaster oven and an electric kettle (tea time is still very important even on the road)

toward the very back of the bus there’s a couple partitions that separates the living area from the sleeping areas

Yennefer and Geralt have claimed the very back section as their own, and where there were two cots before, there is now a fullsized bed they’ve moved in there since getting back together

in between the kitchen area and Geralt & Yen’s “room” is a small hallway lined with bunk beds which Jaskier and Aevryn sleep in (Aev likes to sleep on the top bunk)

Aevryn is the one who religiously collects souvenirs (her favourites are themed snowglobes, kitschy magnets, and cheesy t-shirts)

Jaskier tries to remember but he often gets caught up in the moment and tends to forget, tho he does start collecting souvenirs again once Sam is born to save for her

the one thing he never fails to collect though are the tour posters -- he has them framed and hung in his home studio (they always hire local artists to design them)

everyone always thinks Jaskier would be the messiest member of the band (and while he does tend to leave a few things lying around) the worst offenders are Aev and Yennefer, while Geralt is the neatest

[impossible-rat-babies]

Hey! If you're still doing the micro story prompts then 24 would be neat :)

24. Tender

chargestep (nb!sidestep + m!ortega) | retribution era | fluff

-

It never gets all that cold in Los Diablos, only requiring a light jacket on most days after Halloween has come and gone. But that certainly has stopped parts of the city from lighting up like they’re in the North Pole even before Thanksgiving has crawled by. The lights are pretty, the fake snow and kitschy displays strangely fascinating, and there is a charm to the various knick knacks to celebrate the season, everything from mice in holiday hats to little Santa Claus complete with all the reindeer. Pollux is still nothing if not a connoisseur of stupid little trinkets and the holiday ones are not an exception. It’s endearing in its way how he gravitates to the tiniest little trinkets; Ricardo had asked him once and he’d only gotten a shrug and the quiet admission that he just liked them.

Ricardo glances out the busy coffee shop window, easily finding Pollux leaning against the window. His brow furrows and his lips quirk at his phone, but he tucks it back in his pocket. He looks out across the busy street, taking the cigarette from his lip, smoke disappearing past him with the wind. He stares at him until his name is called and Ricardo grabs their coffee with a smile and a few bills in the tip jar.

He slips out of the doors, two cups carefully balanced and Pollux straightens, taking his.

“Thanks.” Pollux barely smiles, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

“You're welcome.” Ricardo smiles back.

The wind hasn’t let up and it’s enough to put a chill in the air, enough to excuse him as he wraps his shoulder around Pollux as they pick up walking again. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t give him a glare for once, letting Ricardo touch him cradling his coffee with both hands. Peppermint, because it’s always peppermint around his time in the year. That much hasn’t changed, that list getting longer and longer.

“Where to now, Ricky boy?” Pollux asks and Ricardo doesn’t stifle a grin.

“I was going to surprise you, but when we get close you’ll know it. It’s the Memorial Park Light Show.”

It wouldn’t be the holiday season if they didn’t go and see the light show. They had gone every single year without fail, disregarding party invitations, both personal and public, just to spend a few hours wandering through the park filled to the brim with lights upon lights upon lights. Pollux had been remiss to go and see it the first time, not understanding how walking through a park filled with lights could be that exciting, especially with how many people went to it.

That was before he got dragged along, before he got stuffed into every bit of the holiday season and what it did to people. There was something infectious about the excitement and the joy all around that Ricardo swore he saw less of a frown on Pollux’s face the whole season. Maybe even a dozen or so more smiles if he was lucky enough to look at the right time when Pollux thought no one else was looking.

“They’re still holding that event?” The smile on Pollux’s face could almost be called hopeful and Ricardo nods.

“The city likes their traditions and you’d have a fight to take this one away.”

“You’d defend it yourself if it came down to it. You like it far too much to lose it.” He gets a nudge to the ribs and he rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling.

“It’s true, Lux.” Ricardo doesn’t deny it, still smiling as they keep walking.

As they get closer Pollux crawls out from Ricardo’s shoulder, taking his coffee in both hands. Ricardo knows he’s nothing if not a magnet for people and he’s gotten better about the distance–the privacy Pollux needs--even if he doesn’t understand it. There’s always press at these events, eager to get an eyeful of whoever is about, including off duty Rangers and especially who they bring about, who they come to places like this alone with. He doesn’t want to see Pollux’s face plastered across tabloids, talking about him as if he’s just another one of Charge’s girls.

“Come on.” Ricardo points off the other direction of the press gathered about and he knows it isn’t just luck that they pass unnoticed, that their eyes slip right past them like they’re just two ordinary people in the crowd.

Ricardo grins and Pollux rolls his eyes, shoving his shoulder. He laughs, falling into an easy step beside Pollux. It’s quiet between them as they meander through the displays, sparing a comment or two for the really good ones or the humorous ones, recounting memories in all the same breath.

“Remember when a squirrel ate one of the wires and the whole park went out one year?”

“You remember the year when the feud between a few of the stands finally reached it’s peak and they had to force a truce because the fire risk from all the lights was too high?”

“They had a mediator and everything, I still remember. Do they still put up displays?”

“Yup, and they haven’t feuded either.”

“That’s good.”

Pollux is good at hiding the most of it, but Ricardo still catches him staring too long, hands holding his coffee too tight, standing too tight as he stares at the displays. Some of them haven't changed in decades, still the same ones from back before. He’s seeing all the ghosts that haunt storm colored eyes, the memories that haunt the displays. Anathema’s laughter, bright smiles in easier times, the world not half as complicated as it is now. Old paths well traveled, now overgrown and lost.

A gentle hand on Pollux’s shoulder or his name like a soft breath pulls him back around, tugs him back to the center--to the present where he belongs.

It’s the fifth time Ricardo has pulled him back around, the coffee cold in his hands, eyes heavier and mouth turned to a scowl. 

“We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” Ricardo tells him quietly and Pollux’s sigh is short and quick, pausing in front of a display. The rainbow lights flicker across his face like neon ones, painting his wrinkling face with streaks of color.

Ricardo doesn’t forget how this is all still new for Pollux once more, no matter how much he plays it off like he’s been here, done that a thousand times. A dozen masks he trades in and out, but none of them are quite good enough to hide how he doesn’t know the steps to this dance, doesn’t know the negotiation of this new life. The ghosts have always been in his head, but now he doesn’t have to face them alone; new paths to forge.

They’re both in a brave new world of possibility and Pollux would call him craven for describing it like that. Call him cheesy and he wouldn’t say it, but he would almost certainly imply it being romantic. 

“I do want to stay.” 

He admits and he’s always saying more than he really says, miles between his soft spoken words. 

I want to stay here and watch the lights, I want to watch them with you, I want to remember the good times, not the bad. Keep the ghosts at bay, watch them run. 

I want to stay here with you, make something out of this--out of us.

Pollux glances up at him with half a tender smile overtaken as he sips on his cold coffee, eyes drifting to the display and his freckles are aglow, lighting up his face, reflecting off the scars and the tired lines and god Ricardo loves him so much.

Ricardo careful wraps his arm around Pollux’s shoulders again and he leans into him, stays where he stands even as he presses a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Okay, we can stay.”

--

[microstory prompts]

[salty-star-child]

Hate the Game

[Day Three of Michael Guerin Week. This is the one that really ran away from me and got a lot longer than what I intended...but it’s definitely my favorite and I regret nothing.]

Read on Ao3

             She’d been on a road trip with friends when she met him.

             They’d decided to make one of their many stops be in Roswell, New Mexico. They jokingly told anyone who asked about their trip that they were going to look for the aliens that crashed there. At the first sign that said they were nearing Roswell, they’d laughed about each other’s varying willingness to have sex with an alien—Hannah had been a firm no, while Jess and Alyssa had both given an enthusiastic hell yes—which then sparked an argument of whether or not aliens would have compatible anatomy and space STDs.

             Roswell leaned in to all the alien nonsense, which Hannah and Alyssa ate up. Hannah insisted on taking a picture with everything that referenced aliens. Jess had rolled her eyes good naturedly—the whole town referenced aliens; it was a lot of pictures, most of which should never be shown to anyone outside the three of them. But once the thrill of being a tourist started to die off, the town was rather boring.

             Which was how the three of them found themselves in the town’s one non-alien-themed rundown bar where Jess met him.

             He sat at the bar, talking to the bartender with a smirk and playful air. He had a magnetic presence about him; no matter how hard Jess tried not to stare, her eyes kept drifting back to him. Her friends had laughed at her when they noticed and dragged her to the bar where he sat.

             “Ladies,” he greeted with a wink and a voice smoother than whiskey. The bartender rolled her eyes as she asked what they wanted to drink.

             The more they drank that night, the bolder her friends grew until one of them—she isn’t sure which anymore, isn’t sure she ever knew which it was with how much alcohol was in her system at the time—quite literally shoved her into his arms.

             It hadn’t been long after that that she found herself making out with the man in a corner of the bar until the bartender shooed them off with terse words and serious threats. She doesn’t remember stumbling to her hotel room with him, only vaguely remembered the mind-blowing sex and that she didn’t even have to fake an orgasm like with her past hookups. He was gone by the time she woke up the next morning. Apparently, he’d been gone by the time her friends returned to the room at three in the morning.

             Even though it was just a hookup, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

             Her friends suggested going to the cutesy diner in town for breakfast and a pick-me-up before hitting the road again. Of all places, she really didn’t think she’d find him there, at the counter with a coffee and flirting with the waitress. She tried to shake off his presence—just a hookup, just a hookup, just a hookup, jeez Jess, get it together—but, as it had been in the bar last night, her eyes kept drifting back to him.

             She decided to be bold. She went up to the counter, asked to borrow a pen, and wrote her name and number on a napkin before handing it to the man—what had he said his name was? Mitchell? No, Michael—with a lingering kiss to the cheek.

             “You should definitely call me,” she said with enough suggestion that the waitress he had been flirting with seemed much more put off. “Wouldn’t even mind coming back to Roswell for a date.”

             His smirk slipped a little, a strange melancholy entering his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly as she’d spotted it.

             “Sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t do dates,” he said. The way he said ‘dates’ resonated with her—a strange combination of wariness and longing masked by condescension. “Dates just limit your options.”

             She told him to keep it anyway, just in case he ever changed his mind on dates.

             He didn’t call.

--//--

             They hook up two more times: once while she was in Albuquerque visiting her sister about a year after the road trip. She’d driven off in a fit after they’d fought. She’d found herself in Roswell by the time she’d calmed down, so she made the most of being there and found him in the bar.

             She’d managed to wake up before he snuck out, asked him if his opinion on dating had changed. He didn’t look at her as he tied up his shoes and simply said that it hadn’t. It put a bit of a damper on the morning after pleasantness.

             The second time was two years later while she was accompanied by her sister and nephew. Her nephew had recently become obsessed with aliens and Jess had made the mistake of mentioning the UFO museum she remembered visiting in Roswell. It had her nephew begging for a trip; neither of them had the heart to say no to the excited five-year-old. When they exited the museum, it was pure coincidence that they ran into him.

             Her sister eyed the two of them for a few seconds before making a graceless exit and flimsy excuse. An hour after, she received a text from her saying she paid for a hotel room for her. She’d snorted, showed the cowboy the text, and the two proceeded to get absolutely hammered. He was still asleep in the hotel bed when she woke, and had started to stir by the time she’d exited the bathroom after a shower. He’d given her a sleepy smirk.

             “You wanna get breakfast with me?” she’d asked, hoping his answer wouldn’t be what she was expecting.

             “Nah, you know I don’t do dating,” he’d answered, almost like he was reading the line from a script. She frowned, heart falling to the bottom of her stomach.

             Fine, that was fine. It was whatever, she told herself. Who cares? It’s just a hookup.

--//--

             About five years after her first ever visit to Roswell, Jess found herself in the town again. She, Alyssa, Hannah, and Hannah’s fiancé Rachel were reliving their road trip in leu of a bachelorette party because Hannah preferred simple and quiet. Rachel’s friends and many cousins were throwing a much livelier party for them about a month before the wedding. Hannah had practically begged for the trip.

             They were staying for a few days this time though. Rachel had found out that an up-and-coming scientist in her field lived here and she wanted to get her thoughts on some project that Jess didn’t understand. Which was fine.

             Well, had been fine.

             The first person she saw once they entered the same bar from years ago was him. Presence as magnetic as ever, smirk wide and teasing—like the town had been placed on pause until she came back.

             “Damn, he’s still hot,” Alyssa whistled low next to her. “Gonna hit it again? Then we’d really be reliving that trip.”

             She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. Her sex life had hit a dry patch in recent months; she certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity. But—

             “We’ll see how drunk I get first.”

             It’s only three shots in and she’s just starting to feel the warm thrum of alcohol beneath her skin when she decides she needs to say or do something to him before she went insane. Hannah and Rachel were dancing, and Alyssa wasn’t paying attention to her, so there was no one to laugh or call her a lightweight when she made her way towards him.

             She was starting to have some serious déjà vu. Was this even the same exact seat he’d been in years ago? About halfway, however, she stopped in her tracks as another man reached him first, took the seat beside him, and leaned in to share a quick, sweet kiss. Detouring, she kept an eye on them under the guise of getting another round of shots.

             The bartender was giving her a strange, almost accusatory, look. Jess realized she’d been caught staring.

             “Is there gonna be problem tonight?” she asked Jess tightly.

             “I’m—I’m sorry?”

             The bartender raised an eyebrow at her before gesturing towards the men at the other end of the bar. Realization washed over her with the same sharpness as a bucket of ice water.

             “Oh! No, no, I’m—I’m actually here celebrating my friend’s engagement to another woman, so, uh, yeah. Not—no, there won’t be any issues from me,” Jess squeaked out. The bartender had a very intense gaze that made Jess nervous. It was as if she could see right through her, knew her every thought, every feeling. She was not a fan.

             “Good,” the bartender said eventually after another minute of scrutinizing. She walked away without taking the refill order, but she must have a very good memory because she brings over four fresh shots of what they’d been having so far without so much as another word.

             “Uh, th-thank you!” Jess calls after her when she’s immediately called by another customer.

             Jess brings the shots back to the group’s table, downs two, and keeps one eye on—she knows his name, damnit, why couldn’t she think of it? M…M…—the men who are as close as they could get to each other without one of them potentially being in the other’s lap. They both have a teasing, mischievous look about them as they talk.

             He already has a hookup tonight, she thinks to herself, that’s okay. It’s just a hookup.

             She doesn’t know why she’s so hung up on it when she loses sight of them once it gets more crowded and can’t find them again. Nearly five years had passed since she drunkenly brought him to her hotel room. They’d had sex once and he’d been stuck in the back of her head since. She didn’t understand why.

             Was it because he said he wasn’t the dating type and she wanted to date him anyway? Was it because no sex she’d had afterwards quite compared to the level of mind-blowing being with him had been? Was she simply just…curious?

She shouldn’t even care.

--//--

��            Day Two in Roswell is dedicated to Rachel’s science expedition. Well, it will be, after breakfast at the cutesy diner—the Crashdown. It was a neat little place with a menu full of names that made her roll her eyes and giggle, and the waitstaff all wore antennae on their heads. It was just the right amount of kitschy and cute to be endearing rather than too over-the-top.

             Their waitress had walked off with their order, giving Jess the perfect view of the door opening and Michael—finally, she remembered his name. She knew it started with an M—holding it for the man he’d been with at the bar last night. Seeing the smiles on their faces twisted her stomach in an odd mix of confusion and jealousy. She watched them make their way to the bar stools at the counter, watched the other man order for the both of them, watched as they were brought their food and started to pick off each other’s plates.

             “That was way too fast,” she muttered to herself.

             “What was?”

             Jess tore her eyes away from the men and back to her friends. She tried to fight the blush she knew was climbing up her neck in patches.

             “Oh, uh,” she stumbled, shyly pointing out the two she’d been watching. “Them, they got their food, like, five seconds after they ordered. Way too fast.”

             “Maybe they called ahead?” Hannah suggested. Alyssa hummed thoughtfully, eyes on the men’s backs.

             “Or maybe they’re just regular customers, who come ‘round at the same time every day and get the same thing every time,” Alyssa said, voice low and teasing like she was telling a ghost story. That thought didn’t sit well with Jess, not at all. “Hey, Jess isn’t that the guy—”

             “Yup,” she answered tightly.

             “But didn’t you say that he told you—”

             “Yup,” her voice strained a little as the confusion, jealousy, and a bit of irrational anger grew.

             They were saved from anymore awkward conversation about Michael and his date—because that’s what the other man was, wasn’t he? A date. The goddamn date of Mr. It-Limits-Your-Options—by a new group coming in the diner, large and loud with flashing phones as they took pictures of the décor. The tourists remained just as loud once they were seated a table over from where Jess and her friends sat.

             Looking at each other as the tourists grew progressively louder, there was an unspoken agreement to eat quickly and pay as quickly as possible.

--//--

             Jess didn’t see Michael or his date when they left the diner—the Crashdown seemed a little understaffed and the noisy tour group had kept their waitress rather occupied while she tried to deliver their bill. It had certainly started the day off on the wrong foot.

             Rachel wasn’t deterred by the rough start though. In fact, her enthusiasm seemed to grow the closer they got to wherever it was they were going…which was apparently the hospital?

             “Uh, is this really where this scientist of yours is?” Jess asked.

             “I triple-checked, so I’m fairly certain,” Rachel said through a wide smile. “The hospital building also houses a handful of science labs dedicated to the kind of research Elizabeth and I do.”

             “If you say so.”

             They followed Rachel up to the front desk, stood patiently as the tired-looking woman behind the desk called to ask if Ms. Ortecho was available and willing to meet with some visitors. They must’ve gotten an approval from the person on the other end—presumably Elizabeth Ortecho—because the woman wrote down a room number and pointed them down a hall without another word. Rachel was buzzing as she walked twice as fast as the rest of them.

             She was practically jumping in front of a door while she waited on them to catch up, knuckles rapping against the door as soon as they did. Sounds of things being shuffled around and drawers closing on the other side preceded the door flying inward to reveal a slightly disheveled looking woman. Dark hair was swept up into a rough ponytail, a handful of strands having come loose and started frizzing, and red lipstick was slightly smeared at the corner of the mouth as if she’d been worrying at it.

             “Hi,” she smiled, a little breathless as she gestured for them to come in. “I’m Liz. What can I do for you?”

             “Dr. Rachel Mendoza, hi, big fan of what I’ve seen of your work,” Rachel rattled off, shaking Liz’s hand with an outrageous amount of enthusiasm. “I was hoping I could get your thoughts on a project I’m working on? My team and I seem to have hit a rough patch, and I thought fresh eyes, and then I heard you were in Roswell now and Roswell was a stop on our road trip so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity!”

             For Liz’s credit, she didn’t seem thrown by Hurricane Rachel. She even managed to look over a bunch of papers Rachel had brought while listening to the woman ramble and asking questions. Alyssa quickly plopped herself down in a chair and pulled out her phone while Hannah simply watched Rachel with the amount of love and fondness couples in love tended to have. Jess settled for looking around the lab space and trying to find something interesting that she could understand. Science went completely over her head, which is why she’d pursued a degree in Public and Professional Writing.

             She must’ve zoned out eventually however as she was drawn out of her reverie by the door opening and in walking—

             Michael the cowboy, of all fucking people. Great.

             “Hey, Liz, I—uh,” Michael came to a stop. The door shut behind him, the only sound in the silence.

             “Omigod, I totally forgot I asked you to swing by today,” Liz muttered as she looked up from the papers she and Rachel had started spreading out. “But this is still good! Come over here, look at this, and tell me what you think.”

             Michael eyed them, eyes widening a little as he recognized Jess but giving no other indication that he knew her as he walked over to Liz. Leaning over the papers, he scanned them for no more than a minute before he was asking for a blank piece of paper and a pencil. The words that came out of his mouth as he wrote was nonsense to her, but it made Liz groan and complain because of course, that’s so obvious and had Rachel staring at him like he was made of gold.

             He handed to paper to Rachel, who took it reverently.

             “Holy shit, omigod, thank you so much,” she said, words running together as her brain worked faster than her mouth. “How come I’ve never heard of you? Where’d you go to school? Where can I read more of your work, because this is just. Wow.”

             “I, uh,” Michael shuffled his feet, eyes downcast, “I didn’t go to university.”

             “Huh? What?” Rachel exclaimed, floored. Jess just watched as Rachel pushed her way into his space. “Why not? You’re a genius!”

             “Some…family issues came up, followed by a long line of bad decisions,” Michael mumbled. Jess tried not to be hurt when his eyes flicked over to her when he’d said bad decisions. “My boyfriend’s convinced me to start taking a couple online courses though, so we’ll see how that goes.”

             Rachel nodded without sympathy like she was simply reading a report of facts that was of no consequence to anyone.

             “My family wasn’t exactly throwing a pride parade when I told them I was gay either. It can be a hard blow to a teenager,” she said.

             “Oh, I’m not gay,” Michael said simply. “I’m bisexual. And, uh, it was a different issue, but yeah. For a while, my brother just thought I was gay and trying really hard to pass as straight.”

             “Wait, seriously?” Liz chimed in, her eyes particularly gleeful. Michael only nodded. “Does Alex know?”

             “I’m pretty sure Alex sent him links to a bunch of things about sexualities other than gay and straight, but neither have confirmed or denied. Yet. I’ll get one of them to break eventually.”

             “You know it won’t be Alex.”

             “Exactly, which is why you’re my inside man, Ortecho. You’ve had Maxie wrapped around your finger since high school!”

             “As if Alex hasn’t had you wrapped around his for just as long?”

             “He’s had me wrapped around more than just—”

             “I do not need to hear the rest of that sentence!”

             Michael huffed a laugh before seeming to remember that there were others in the room. He cleared his throat and adjusted the cowboy hat on his head.

             “Well, since you seem to have your hands full, I’ll come back some time after lunch,” he told her lightly. Rachel scribbled something on a piece of paper and shoved it into his hand.

             “That’s my work email. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d really like to read about your work, and if you ever need another set of eyes I would love to get the chance to work with you,” Rachel said, smile wide and only slightly manic. Michael seemed to soften, almost embarrassed.

             “Thanks, that…means a lot, actually,” he said, voice quiet. “It, uh, was nice to meet you. And good luck on that project! I’ll be expecting to hear all about it from Lizzie later.”

             He nodded at the rest of them then makes a quick exit. Alyssa and Hannah are looking at Jess wide eyed and knowing whereas Rachel is blissfully oblivious entangled in the science around her. Jess looked between them all as she shakes off her shock. She needed to catch him before he’s out of the building and talk to him.

             Loudly, she announced that she needs to use the bathroom and hurries out before anyone can question or join her.

             She spotted his back as he turns a corner. It’s all she needed before she’s walking as fast as she can without looking like a crazy person. Once she’s close enough that she’s sure he’ll be able to hear her, she calls:

             “Michael! Wait!”

             She watched the way his shoulders tense, raising just slightly, as he comes to a stop and turns on his heel.

             “Hey, uh,” Michael drawls, seeming uncomfortable for the first time in the history of their limited interaction. From that history, she’d gathered that he was pretty open and rather shameless; definitely not someone who was easily made uncomfortable. “Knew I recognized you.”

             “Jess. My name is Jess,” she said, only slightly irritated. She couldn’t be too upset, not when she hadn’t remembered his name until this morning. “What happened to ‘dates just limit your options’?”

             He grimaced, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

             “Right, that,” he muttered. “Look, I was a jackass and I know that, I gave that excuse to anyone who wanted more than the sex…but.”

             “But…?” she implored when he seemed to struggle to find the words he was looking for.

             “Alex is…different? He’s—we’ve got—a really complicated, fucked up history. I was in love with him—still am—and I guess it just felt unfair, like betrayal or somethin’ even though we weren’t together at the time. That make any sense?”

             Jess pursed her lips, that mix of jealousy and anger and confusion still roiling in her gut but slowly quieting. She nodded at him and sighed.

             “Yeah, I guess it does,” she told him, smiling ruefully. “Alex is a pretty lucky guy.”

             His eyes fill with that fondness and love that she saw in Hannah earlier and Jess feels that jealousy and anger soothed further.

             “Trust me,” he said, sounding as blissful as he did playful. “I’m the lucky one.”

[spacegayparty]

Hc #31

When they visit different places, the sides usually try to get souvenirs, obviously! But all of them have different styles.

Logan goes with minimalistic things that are somewhat different and unique but also indicate the place /region they were taken from. It's usually practical such as a scarf, mug, shirt. Something he would really use. (sometimes it's just a thing he needed anyway and got it there due to convenience so there was no special indication of where it was from but still remind him of it)

The good old nerd likes to have some sort of little schedule and save tickets, receipts and little pictures and such. It would be like a report book, short, straightforward but dear to him.

Patton gets all the classical kitschy stuff. Tiny magnets, key chains. All the things nobody needs but they still hold so much value. He also takes pictures of everything and demands group pictures and selfies for memories with everyone else at all places.

Patton obviously keeps photo albums!

Roman goes for more elaborate things, unique things. Usually it is something nobody else would think about, something special or self-made. (he would go and get art supplies and make something himself, draw the view etc, sing a song about the place he visited and use the inspiration as memory).

He also has a journal with these things and impressions.

Virgil, on the other hand, was a little more practical and cheap. He collected things he found such as stones or whatever other people would call trash (like bottle caps of beverages that were special to the region) but eventually stick to practical things. Vitamins, minerals.

Logan ended up printing stickers for the nations and states /regions to glue them to the bottles so Virgil would be able to tell which one was from where and the punk was more than happy to have unique memories and souvenirs that nobody else thought about.

Remy tended to get make-up and COFFEE. He would take an iconic coffe mix and selfie or short video for every place he visited. He would leave reviews, print them later and link them to the location and this way, he would have all memories and feelings in onr place.

Picani really loved post cards and he usually bought several ones to send to others and keep one or two for himself. He also loved receiving cards from others and started collected them in a little chest.

Deceit actually likes hats. He gets hats and hat bows (u know.. Those fabric strings that is pulled around the head part of the head) in different colours that he gets from art or special hat stores for fine clothing.

*

My mom decided to send me a care package and found my souvenirs I collected from school trips and such. I was inspired.

Idk, hope that wasn't that useless ^

[thesinglesjukebox]

ORVILLE PECK - TURN TO HATE

[6.18]

Next up, a masked singer who presumably won't turn out to be, I don't know, Ninja...

Alex Clifton: "Fringed masked queer cowboy with Elvis's voice and an '80s melodic sense with a dash of Twin Peaks" sounds like a shtick when phrased that way, I'll admit. But to dismiss Orville Peck as some kind of novelty star really ignores how good he is. There's something about the way he mixes everything together that's hypnotic and keeps me coming back for more. That voice, for one -- every time I hear it, I'm blown away that someone can just make that come out of their mouth, especially since it's been a long time since I've heard a male voice this rich. I tried not to be impressed the first time I watched his videos as there was an element that felt too campy for words, like it would all be revealed to be a joke at the end. But to be fair, you can't make this kind of music and not have some sort of campiness. Peck is the real deal; if anyone deserves more attention and has been overlooked by the general masses, it's this guy. [8]

Joshua Copperman: It's an effective gimmick; the narrative is less "hardcore guy goes country" than "mysterious pale masked man inexplicably has a gorgeous baritone." Pony's missteps recreate Morrissey/Elvis/Roy Orbison too neatly, but the best moments use pastiche as a foundation to build a new voice. The pinnacle is "Turn to Hate," which is closer to '80s-new wave than '50s rockabilly and benefits from that distinction. Its message jumps the song forward another thirty years; "Don't let my sorrow turn to hate" is especially powerful in this age of radicalization. The line "you're just another boy caught in the rye" is maybe my favorite lyric of the year; reassuring the wannabe Holden Caulfields of the world they'll be "alriiiiiight." The "yee-haw" is up there with "get 'em" and "*GASP*" in the very specific pantheon of infectious 2019 ad-libs. He can be as goofy as he wants (and get away with "You'll all be stars, now just you wait") because of the depth of feeling and urgency in this song. And anyway, why be Holden Caufield when you can be a chaotic cowboy that channels his loneliness into helping others instead of wallowing? [9]

Iain Mew: Peck sings as if having a deep voice is an automatic granter of a resonance which never arrives. The low-stakes jangle works well enough until he completely takes over, but I get easily distracted by imagining what Michael Stipe could do with the same material. [4]

Katherine St Asaph: The sum total of my knowledge about Orville Peck: 1) he's a deliberately anonymous ersatz-country artist, 2) always appears in a The Hitcher mask, 3) is signed to Sub Pop. Is the latter why I keep swearing this is about to turn into a Throwing Muses song? [7]

Nortey Dowuona: A soft shading of guitars sets the stage for Orville Peck to pull in the warm, fuzzy bass, gale wind guitars and 3D printed drums around their prickly, hurtling croon. [6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Bar music you listen to while sipping an IPA and eating salted peanuts. Pleasant, well-executed, inessential. [5]

Alfred Soto: A flashback to the Poppy Bush Interzone of college radio when Nick Cave and Lower Manhattan-era Lloyd Cole garnered airplay on little more than the symbolic portent of their two-dimensional baritones. Cool guitar twang. Not queer enough in toto. [5]

Vikram Joseph: I guess I was expecting something self-consciously challenging, but for all the masked theatrics, "Turn To Hate" is a remarkably comfortable-sounding country-pop song with beautiful, crisp production. There's more than a trace of Reckoning-era R.E.M. in the rich jangle of the guitars -- especially the three-note lick leading into the chorus -- and the hazy outro is eerily reminiscent of another hazy 2019 outro, but Orville Peck contrives to sound both classic and sharply idiosyncratic. Also, if there were a prize for the most deliciously understated "yeehaw" of the decade, this would walk it. [7]

Kylo Nocom: Here comes the cowboy! And he sounds a lot like an unfunny version of the Magnetic Fields! Mac DeMarco's appearance in the video is unsurprising; both artists have summoned audiences through extra-musical goofiness more so than their rather pedestrian tunes. The antics make for easier branding and a fine token country slot come year-end list season. They do not make for fine music. One wonders why all the BDSM imagery is here when Orville has such a gutless, clean-shaven aesthetic. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: It's so easy to read Orville Peck's act as just about the mask (just about the mask, as if that doesn't mean the mask as metaphor / the mask as literal mask / the mask as affectation / the mask as prop-work / the mask as pageantry / the mask as marketing gimmick) that I at first did not want to even encounter his music. Wouldn't the idea of a masked cowboy goth indie folk singer always outstrip the practice? Yet "Turn to Hate" works both as a part of the Peckian mythos and as a work of Springsteen-cribbing Americana. It's a simple song, raving up the same changes until they become laden with meaning, but it's effective, like the high-beams on an old Toyota cutting through a Southwestern night. It's kitschy in a way that only furthers its immediacy, a masked song about the mask's necessity that nevertheless opens its own beating heart up. [8]

Oliver Maier: Many musicians have flirted with or fully adopted the cowboy mantle in the past couple of years, but Peck is one of the few for whom the campiness of the persona feels planned rather than arrived at. This permeates the music to an extent, though I'm not sure whether it's intentional. For all their theatricality, Peck's vocals lack presence and conviction on "Turn to Hate," and I can't decide whether it's a cunning way of draining the gruffness out of the archetype or just a genuine weakness. Maybe I'd be more inclined towards the former if anything else about the song felt particularly sophisticated, but while there's glimmers of Big Star's motel melancholy, it's still not much more than a placid alt-country head-nodder. [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[triggeringthehealing]

Fridge Magnets

Derek/Stiles | G | ~2300w | AO3

Summary: It takes Stiles longer to notice what's going on than Derek expected. He always knew that one day the whole thing would come out, that Stiles would figure it out, but he thought he'd have more time. Then Stiles puts the pieces of the puzzle together.

A/N: Written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge - prompt #285: magnetism

-=-=-

Derek watches Stiles from across the room and wonders what it was that caused the change. Or really, what it was that brought out that magnetism that he felt for years but that now seems to work on everyone else too.

Now, Stiles draws in people in a way that has never been typical back in Beacon Hills. Now, he's never alone for more than a few minutes, always the one others find interesting and intriguing, whether they know of his Spark or not. Now, he's turning down offers for dates and for positions in packs across the country.

It's something that Derek doesn't know what to do with.

Because he's always been drawn to Stiles -- for help, for companionship, for everything -- and to see others be like that is making him happy for Stiles and concerned and uneasy at the same time. Most of the time he ignores the little voice inside his head that whispers "mine" at regular intervals whenever he sees Stiles surrounded by suitors of all the different types. But sometimes...

Sometimes there are a few too many offers, too many business cards, too many wolves standing too close.

"Can you believe it?" Stiles asks when he wanders over to where Derek's pretending to be nonchalantly sipping on his wolfsbane-laced beer.

"If it's anything to do with you, then yes," Derek says and grins at Stiles's outraged expression.

"Rude." Stiles huffs as he pulls himself up on the bar stool next to Derek. "Anyway. It seems that I've broken my record for how many packs suddenly decided that they need me. I mean, some of these didn't even know I'm a Spark and half of these--" he puts out several bunches of business cards on the bar top and points to one of them, "--already have established Emissaries."

Derek only just holds back the growl that rises in his chest. It would not help anything, especially since he's sure that at least a few of the people whose cards are in front of Stiles are actively listening in, no matter how much of a breach of unspoken laws of decency between shapeshifters it is.

"But this one." Stiles points to a card that's on its own. "I don't have the slightest idea what to do with that."

One glance over tells Derek enough. It's the card branded with the McArdle pack insignia and he only needs a second to see Sean's -- the pack's Alpha's -- name on it. And that was a conversation that Derek couldn't help but overhear since it happened only a few steps away from him. He knows what Sean wants and he's surprised that Stiles doesn't already have a million things he'd want to research about it.

He doesn't say anything though, afraid of what might spill if he was to start talking.

"I mean, okay, I've seen the whole mate potential thing in action," Stiles continues talking, much to Derek's dismay. "I know that there's a predisposition for a good partner. But that's a thing between wolves, right?"

Derek doesn't get a chance to nod before Stiles barrels on.

"There's no way that whatever magnetism it is that pulls anyone to an Alpha, or to a werewolf in general, would work with a regular human," Stiles says, poking at the business cards on the bar.

"You're not a regular human," Derek mutters, then curses before Stiles turns to look at him.

"I'm a spark, yeah," he says. "But that's still human. Admittedly, slightly enhanced human, in strange ways I'm still only beginning to comprehend...."

He pauses and when Derek looks at him properly, he's met with an expression that he's not a big fan of. It's Stiles's "there's a thing I should be getting, but I'm not quite sure yet so I'm gonna figure it out" face. The one that he usually has when Deaton says something that is supposed to sound irrelevant but has a meaning that almost always leads them to something important. It's the one that he has when someone deliberately withholds information.

Not that Derek's withholding anything. Nothing that Stiles needs to know.

"Wait, you knew," Stiles says after a few beats of silence during which Derek turned his focus back to his beer.

Derek doesn't move.

"How did you know?" Stiles asks, then continues talking without waiting for Derek's reply. "You couldn't have known from any of the talks or hints that Deaton gave us when we were making the pack thing work. You couldn't have read it in one of the books because I've read them too and there's nothing in there. You would've told me if it was something that someone told you, because it concerns me and you wouldn't withhold important information from me...."

He pauses, his voice a little shaky during the last few words. Like when the pieces of a puzzle start coming together. Derek doesn't need to look at Stiles to know that he's basically thinking out loud.

"Unless," Stiles says, a hint of anger in his tone mixed with a little bit of wonder. "Unless you knew because you felt it."

Crap.

Derek doesn't know why he's surprised that it barely took Stiles any time figuring it out.

"Derek?"

There's something in Stiles's voice that makes Derek look up from his beer and meet the brown eyes that are looking at him in a way he hasn't seen before.

"Did you?" Stiles asks quietly.

There's no way Derek would ever be able to lie to Stiles. He wouldn't want to. Holding back things is one thing, but a straight up lie is never even remotely an option, not anymore. Not ever. So he nods.

"Right." There's a moment when Stiles's face goes through several expressions in a succession so quick that Derek can't decipher them. "Okay," Stiles says, then he turns and gathers up the cards from the table, tucks them into his jeans and looks back at Derek. "My room, now. You're explaining yourself."

It shouldn't be that easy. Derek should be able to shake his head, tell Stiles that now is not a good time, that it's not what they should be doing in the middle of a mixer at a gathering of packs. He could if he wanted to.

Instead, he drops a few notes on the bar to cover his expenses from the evening and with a sigh, he nods towards the exit when Stiles doesn't move.

"Not a regular human. Like it's not a big deal. He just... gah," Derek hears Stiles muttering, too low for most people in the room.

But Derek is attuned to his voice that little bit more, so he doesn't miss a word. Of course, that means that he also hears it when Stiles -- once they're out of earshot of the wolves in the hotel bar -- starts mumbling all the very creative and inventive wolf-related insults, all of them aimed at Derek.

By the time they get to Stiles's room -- right next door to Derek's -- Stiles seems to have run out of steam. Or out of insults and names that he could call Derek. He walks in without sparing Derek a glance like he's expecting him to follow. Which Derek does, of course, because there is no point in trying to avoid the conversation that's sure to happen.

"So, care to explain yourself, sourwolf?" Stiles asks, standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, a challenging eyebrow aimed at Derek.

"What do you want to know?" Derek asks.

It's not that he's trying to deflect, it really isn't. It's that he has no idea where to begin. There are so many things to unwrap, so many consequences, so many things he's kept close to his chest for so long.

"How about you start with how the hell you never mentioned that I might end up swarmed by werewolves who are somehow drawn to me like I'm a fridge and they are kitschy souvenir magnets?"

For a split second, Derek gets comfort from the mental image that Stiles drew. Or at least in the part where he imagines some of the less pleasant werewolves who were vying for Stiles's attention as cheesy, plastic, easily broken little wolf shapes with magnets on their backs. it doesn't last though, because Stiles is still there, impatiently tapping a foot, waiting for an answer.

"It never came up," Derek says weakly. "I didn't know how to bring up something like that without..."

He pauses because he's already said more than he wanted to and he's sure that Stiles can fill in the rest of that sentence.

"Without mentioning that you knew how they feel? Why they are like that around me?"

Derek nods.

"Did you not think that was maybe something I should have been informed about?"

The answer is yes, of course. But Derek's been hesitant to open that can of worms.

"That maybe it would help me wade through the waters of all these events? And that me not knowing would possibly make it dangerous if I turned down someone who thought I shouldn't?"

"I'm sorry," Derek says, barely above a whisper, just loud enough for Stiles to hear. "I should have told you."

Stiles sighs and his hands drop down to his sides. If Derek didn't know better, he'd read it as a body language sign of opening up, of not being angry anymore.

"You're an idiot, is what you are," Stiles says.

The words should sting, they should carry animosity. But they' don't. They're fond, maybe a little exasperated, like Stiles doesn't know what to do with Derek.

But then he walks closer, backs Derek against the now closed door, and he puts his hands on Derek's tense shoulders.

"If you had told me...."

Derek waits, unsure what he's supposed to do or say yet again.

"I would've wanted to know," Stiles says. "I mean, not that I wanted you to be like them."

The last word comes out with the anger that Derek was expecting to be aimed at him.

"Not fridge magnet material?" The question is out before he can think about it and Stiles's mouth twitches at the corner.

"Now is not the time to try and be funny," he says, but his voice gives away his amusement. "You don't get to do another thing that I tried to ignore for years."

Now it's Derek who lifts an eyebrow in question, knowing what he wants it to mean, but unsure if that's what it is.

"You want to know why I turned down all those offers?" Stiles asks, his eyes flicking down to his waist, to the pocket with the collection of business cards. "Why I never even considered trying?"

"Why?"

"Well, first of all," Stiles takes his hands off of Derek and steps back. "I was not going to be the Emissary of any other pack than yours or Scott's. Or both of yours, I'm still trying to work out how that would be possible."

Derek frowns because that is not something he was aware of. He worked with Scott, two packs on the same land, two Alphas protecting the same territory. He always figured that if Stiles was to become a fully trained Emissary, it would be to Scott.

"Second of all," Stiles continues. "There's something extremely off-putting about werewolves who seem to think they have a claim on someone because of some sort of weird magnetism that's not even remotely binding by any law of nature. No matter how your mere existence breaks so many of those laws I've stopped counting years ago."

He rolls his eyes and Derek tries -- and fails -- to hide a smile.

"But most importantly, I thought that there was no way that any of it was true or possible." Stiles tucks his thumbs into his pockets. "Because if it was, if there was even a slight chance that the mate connection or whatever it is was something that also worked for humans, I wouldn't have wanted it to be any of the ones who tried to pull me in."

Derek still doesn't speak. His heart is racing in his chest, his mind bringing up what he wishes Stiles would say.

"Is there a way for a human to feel that?" Stiles asks then.

Derek shakes his head.

"It's only us," he says. "It's a draw that a regular brain can't process because while it's there, it's only the different sense processing that allows shapeshifters and other supernatural beings to comprehend it."

"Well, that sucks," Stiles states.

"Does it?"

The question comes out because Derek never really wanted to feel drawn to anyone. Not after his past experiences, not after everything that he's been through. He was fine dating, fine having casual hookups with people. But he never wanted that hint that someone might be good for him because his past has taught him not to trust that feeling.

He especially tried hard to ignore his draw to Stiles. For more reasons than he cared to consider.

"I wouldn't have minded knowing about that possibility."

"Oh?"

"And before you think about it too much," Stiles says as he steps closer again. "You. I would have wanted to know that the potential for something good was there with you."

Derek's mouth opens and then closes. Not for the first time, he's speechless.

"I mean, I already knew that, but this would have told me for sure," Stiles keeps talking. "And maybe then I would suggest that we listen to that. That we try. But you never seemed like you'd even consider me that way."

"I did," Derek says, thoughts crashing around him as his fears melt away and his hopes soar. "I didn't want you to--"

Stiles's finger lands on his lips and cuts off the words. Stiles moves even closer, tucks the fingers on his free hand into the belt loop on Derek's jeans, and then he moves his finger away, his palm cupping Derek's cheek.

"Yeah?"

Derek nods, because there's very little that he would say no to right now.

When Stiles kisses him, Derek knows that it was the right answer.

[nobunyaaga]

you know i had to come and request t'cherik right?

:’D

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versaThe longer T'challa knows a person, the more he falls in love WHICH BASICALLY MEANS he just keeps on making a fool of himself because he’s too focused on Erik to pay attention to silly things like push/pull.

(Erik bites his lip and T’challa freezes, forgets that he’s about to open the door at all.

“You okay?” Erik asks, raising an eyebrow and T'challa can feel his face heat.

“I am fine,” he says with great dignity and pushes the door. It doesn’t budge.)

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside themNeither of them because T’challa doesn’t doodle and Erik would carve it into the wood instead.

Who starts the tickle fightsErik with a stealth jab to the ribs. T'challa makes a wonderful squeaking sound when poked just right.

Who starts the pillow fightsT'challa, and always after nodding along very sincerely and seriously, to whatever shit Erik’s saying before reaching over and smacking Erik in the face with a pillow and fleeing.

He doesn’t get far before he’s tackled into the bed and a good time is had by all.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smileT'challa because it’s hard to imagine that they’d get here at their first meeting, at yet here they are. If he stares too long, Erik will wake up with a grumble and flip them so he’s half smothering T'challa beneath his weight because, “Go the fuck to sleep, we’ll fix the world tomorrow.”

Who mistakes salt for sugarT'challa. Erik calls it disgusting but eats it anyway.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morningErik because he’s an inconsiderate asshole and if T'challa’s awake, then they might as well have some fun.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up linesERIK, SHUT UP.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical orderErik because he has Opinions on what is Worthwhile Literature and also authors that need to have their books burned, preferably as their own funeral pyres. It’s not alphabetical, though - he arranges it thematically.

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking browniesErik. He’s the one that insists they do it, buys a box of mix from the dollar store while they’re in the US, tells T'challa, “You’re going to love these. I used to make them with-” and cuts himself off, but they spend an afternoon in the tiny kitchenette of their hotel room trying to handmix when it says to use a beater and making an absolute mess.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasionT'challa. He lights them over dinner and, looking very sincerely at Erik, tells him, “I know how much you like fire.” and Erik doesn’t know whether to kiss or kill him, but laughs nonetheless. 

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a penErik writes his name all over T'challa, leaves bruises and bite marks because there’s so little that he can truly call his own, he wants to put his mark on him.

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacationT'challa brings handmade local artisan goods, Erik buys him kitschy trinkets behind his back. 

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazinesSHURI. She’s the one that convinces T'challa and Erik’s like, what the fuck, they’re not even asking about my dick, this test is invalid.

(T'challa and Shuri silently tally up the results and look at each other.

“Congratulations, brother!” Shuri chirps, a huge grin spreading over her face. “You’re the next power couple.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I think you need a namesquish!”)