#i think this counts as like gay chicken

[lunesprite]

@dca-prompts

I tripped. Dear anon, I think they might still bite each other, but I hope you like this <3 2884 unedited words total, mostly under the cut.

__________

It started as not quite what you’d call a dare. 

More of an… ante up. 

Everyone knows the Daycare Attendants. They’re… a lot. That’s really the only word for it. A manic amount of energy all wound up in springs and titanium in one, and in the other? 

If you’re over the age of 13, honestly, he’s a dick. 

You would laugh if you weren’t also over the age of 13 and didn’t have to man the gift shop three days a week, which meant spending a few hours those days, when all the daycare lights dimmed, pointedly ignoring the jackass with his face pressed to the glass just waiting to freak you out while the kids snoozed. 

That was normally as far as it went. The most dangerous part of your shift would be walking by the jumpscare enclosure on the way out or to sneak in a bathroom break, and you refuse to admit how many times he got you. You’d think it’d be easy to see the gigantic robot with the glowing eyes and stars everywhere coming, but no! Whoever made him had really gone out of their way to program the child caretaker to be a goddamn master of stealth. 

And then. 

Then. 

It snowed out. 

Heavy enough that the daycare was left empty and you were pretty sure the plex was only still open out of sheer stubbornness, which left you and your neighboring menace - Sun excluded - alone. No children to watch and no messes to clean up for either of you. 

The shelves in Lucky Stars had never been so dust-free. 

Every pile of merch was immaculate. The shirts - folded and sized. Even the clearance designs. 

Even Sun was feeling it. The poor guy had already sorted all the building blocks and started organizing the barrels by color. You were considering knocking on the door and offering to play Uno before he sorted the ball pit when the overhead lights dimmed and you let your eyes slide away from the Mayor of Bastard City and his blinking red eyes and back to the keychains near the register. 

You heard the tell-tale scrape of claws on thick glass. The creepy jack-in-the-box tune he liked to wind up if you walked too slow past his enclosure. You glanced over and saw those beacon-bright eyes peering over the side of the wall, heard him snicker as he slowly sank down, down into the darkness, before you hummed and went back to sorting old Bonnies. Vaguely, you saw him pacing. Scuttling around, dangling on his wire, thumping himself into the wall like a dead thing, but otherwise? Ignorable. Standard. Did he think this was your first rodeo? Hell no. 

The silence didn’t last. 

With no children to rein him in, Moon made a new sound: a fucking horrid mechanical death rattle that stopped you in your tracks. 

It sounded like a car on its last, last legs. Like a zombie of a car, dragged back from death by a cruel mechanic who knew no limits and left his morals and half the important car-bits back on the side of the highway three states back. You winced, glaring at him until he stopped with a gleeful giggle and a waggle of his sinful claws. 

“Sounds like shit, man. Good job.” 

“Language.” 

“We’re all adults here, Moonie. And,” you said, turning towards him and signing slowly, deliberately, watching his pupils watch your hands with an ever-more mischievous hiss. “Don’t think I didn’t look up what this meant.” 

He snickered, face spinning lazily above his cheshire grin. 

“Naughty.” 

“You did it first.” 

And then, because you weren’t about to lose this by giving him any more of what he wanted, you looked him dead in the eyes and put in your headphones with a thumbs up. 

Checkmate. He could glower all he wanted. No metal death screams were getting through these bad boys. 

It did work. It did. 

Moon paced like a bored tiger in a zoo, hunched and stalking and dragging his face against the glass. It probably sounded awful. Like nails on a chalkboard, but with metal and silicon shrieks and squeals! 

And you heard none of it. :) 

You were feeling very clever, very triumphant, until you finished all the fiddly bits that decorated the register area and turned, ready to move onto new frontiers - 

The daycare door was open. 

Cracked just enough for you to notice. Just enough you could imagine the stock horror game sound of the hinges creaking in the dark. And, as your eyes slid downwards, you noticed… toys on the floor. Blocks, a plastic ball, a little stuffed Sun. 

All laid in a perfectly spaced trail from the cracked door to the edge of your half-lit shop, where there sat a single, raggedy plush of Moon. Barely a foot away. 

Your headphones crackled. 

Beeehiiiind you, liiittle ssstar. 

A hand, too large and too sharp, settled across your shoulder. 

You did not scream. You will never admit it.  

You lunged to the nearest plush, lit crimson as cackling crackled inside your headphones and outside, and whirled around to beat that goddamn robot to death. 

It did NOT work. At all. He was fast. Bounding on all fours, springing up the walls and deflecting your projectiles with giant plush versions of himself as he laughed and laughed and laughed, always just an inch away, slipping through your fingers as you called him every foul-mouthed minced curse under the fucking sun until you ran out of breath. Chest heaving, fingers clenched around the ragged little Moon, you glared up at your personal demon as he pranced atop the daycare wall like the world’s most kickable imp. 

The shop was a wreck. 

And then he paused, stupid head turning towards the lobby. And fell backwards into the darkness as you glanced at the stairs to see - your coworker, paused and gaping at the disaster zone behind you and your own distinctly rumpled uniform. 

The Moon squeaked in your fist. 

“Is uh,” she said, eyes wide as she took in the wreckage and you, alone, Moon nowhere in sight. “Is everything going ok in here?” 

You exhaled. 

A laugh hissed in your headphones, low and utterly pleased, and you slipped them off and into your jacket pocket with your best beatific smile as you stood straight. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him: Moon swayed in the air above the daycare on his wire, hands folded beneath his head like a sleeping angel. 

Your coworker stared at you like a madman. 

You lost. Miserably. 

And what could you do about it? All bets were off; the wall of the daycare breached, your game thrown into disarray. 

Except… 

You glanced down at the Moon in your hands. Ratty and rumpled, it must have been a few product lines out of date even before you started. A single bell clung valiantly to its hat. 

You laughed. Before your coworker could wonder - completely incorrectly - if you’d snapped at last, the daycare theme having driven you to the depths of madness, you beamed at her. 

“It’s peachy! Just peachy.” 

She did not look convinced. 

“Are… you sure? Do you need uh… I can probably give you a 15 instead of a 10…?” 

Bless her heart. 

“That’d be great!” You waved lightly back towards the shop. “Don’t worry about cleanup, I’ll get it when I get back! There’s just one itty bitty thing before I go?” 

“... Yesssss?” 

You held up the ratty Moon. It jangled innocently, your coworker flinching like it might explode. 

“Can I buy this before I go on break?” 

Far above, Moon’s smooth swaying on his wire stuttered. Bingo. 

With as much saccharine sweetness as you could muster, you squash the tiny Moon in a hug, cheek pressed to plush cheek. 

“I gotta get something of my new bestie after all!” 

Your coworker’s incredulous disbelief and your total loss of dignity was worth it as Moon tumbled down his stupid fucking wire, red eyes locked on you in mute shock as right in front of the glass, you gave that dingy plush a kiss on the cheek. 

Ante up, bitch. 

It became your new weapon. 

Whenever Moon acted out particularly badly - though you never had a repeat of him slipping his bounds, and neither of you acknowledged it after - then on your break, you’d look him in the optics and buy whatever bit of Moon merch was next on your list. 

Was it escalating? Yes. 

You’d gotten every keychain. Your bag jangled with the things. Sun spotted it one day and you saw him actually stumble. It was cute watching him talk around the Moon-laden bag in the other room when you brought him some desperately needed supplies he’d somehow forgotten he still had entire fabric storage cubes of. 

It was fine. You didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to go fetch your bag and show off your collection. 

(Did you feel a little guilty then? Yes. But you were committed to the goddamn bit and like hell would you break for even a second.) 

Your favorite Moon was the little cat Moon keychain, but the one from the stray Halloween collection box you’d unearthed in the back was mad cute, too. 

And now? You were working through the plushes. The shirts. You’d organized the list by price point. With every purchase, Moon’s eyes got just a little bit wider. His laugh a little softer. Almost - if you dared say it - flustered. 

Almost… charming? 

The kids noticed. 

The ratty Moon sat beside your register, a name tag pinned to his re-stitched torso. A Moon sticker decorated your own name tag - along with a Sun added by the big man himself. You found an old starry version of the plex polo. When the winter beanies arrived - notably weeks after it began to snow -, you were the first one to slam down the cash for the Moon and Sun themed one. It was reversible. It looked like something a ye olde jester would wear. A bell jangled from the tip. 

It was unironically cute as hell. 

The kids went nuts. The child size range sold out almost the same day, in no small part due to your completely definitely as a bit enthusiastic recommendation in jingling around the shop. When the lights went out, the kids all clamored to show Moon their new hats, too, like they’d done for Sun, and you’d never heard such a joyous but utterly failed ‘naptime.’ 

Moon jingled after all the little giggling stars, and you watched, hand on your chin, as he scrabbled up the jungle gym like a big cat. 

So what if when he looked towards you and wiggled his claws, you wiggled your fingers back. It was… it reminded you of the keychain. The cat one, with a paw up like. You know, nya~. 

Your coworkers definitely thought you cracked, but you didn’t really care? So what if they talked when they relieved you for your break in the dark and you and Moon took turns skulking behind the walls, trying to spook one another? You did get him once. 

When they sarcastically asked about you and your wretched bestie, you didn’t even flinch. 

Why would you? He was your bestie. 

Lucky Stars was your shift now. Which worked out great! It gave you even more chances to show off what you’d get next. Since, uh. Fazbear didn’t pay that much, and the big plushes and the honestly sick hoodies they released were definitely a more ‘save up a bit’ kind of purchase. 

Even Sun chimed in sometimes. 

He agreed you should do the hoodie next. It was reversible, too. It was also completely obnoxious - the colors a complete circus riot, though Sun gasped and called it cheerful instead. 

Of course, the day you bought it - you made puppy eyes at the Glamrock Gifts cashier so you could start your shift already wearing it because it had the ruffles and bells included, come on -, it snowed again. Parents trailed in remnants of muddy slush in their trek to fetch their kids, pausing when you greeted them with the mop bucket nearby as Sun waved from behind the glass. Your hoodie matched him. You weren’t an amateur. It obviously wasn’t time for the starry side yet. 

For some reason, they thought you were an attendant. 

(Nah. You just knew Sun would worry his rays off if folks kept trailing muddy water up to his doors.) 

By naptime, it was just the two of you left. 

You’d dragged the mop bucket and a sweet little wet floor bot in from the lobby and set about cleaning your gift shop of any stray mud tracked in and glanced up as the place went dim and the stars overhead twinkled on. 

And paused. 

Neither of you had ever mentioned that time, and you’d never gone inside the daycare proper when it was naptime. But… wouldn’t it be great to show off the new hoodie up close? It was rad. The glow in the dark star prints wouldn’t glow since, you know, it’d been turned towards the inside, but the whole bell and ruffle situation would still be fun, right? 

The wet floor bot beeped up at you. 

With a grin, you patted its head and stowed the mop in the bucket, leaning in carefully before you stepped back. 

“Gotta go show off my latest, little guy.” You gestured towards the daycare, and the bot beeped again. Taking its blessing, you trotted off. 

Towards the doors. Which, before you even reached them, creaked open. 

Moon was nowhere to be seen. 

You stopped at the threshold, exaggeratedly peering in, hunting for him and ‘forgetting’ to look up before giving up with a shrug and a sigh. 

“Man. Here I was, hoping to show Moon my fun new hoodie, and my best friend isn’t even here to appreciate it?” 

Jingle. 

You grinned. Humming, you leant further into the daycare, as if the jingling wasn’t very obviously behind you. 

“Moooon? Hey, has anyone seen a big, lanky animatronic?” You telegraphed your turn so clearly, it’s no surprise Moon has vanished when you look back at the wet floor bot. It waggled its ears, beeping. “Any clue where he went, little guy?” 

Jingle jingle. 

This time when clawed hands curled around your shoulders, you didn’t jump. Or when Moon melted against your back, hat dangling down to jingle against your ear. You just. Went still. That’s all. 

You’d never been this close to one of them before. Not even Sun. 

Little whirrs and ticking sounds buzzed against your spine. 

So he’s… Decided to up the ante himself, huh? Well now! It’ll take more than that. 

You turned in his grip, stretching your arms to your sides as you come face to face with your. Bestie. Suspended upside down on the wire with his face right side up, inches away from yours; the shine of his eyes was low, dimmed, his claws picking idly at the thick ‘ruffle’ across your shoulders. 

“Whatcha think?” 

“Too bright.” He tugged at a tiny bell. His other hand slipped behind your neck, pulling the hoodie’s hood inside-out past your cheek. “This side’s better.” 

The stars inside the hood glimmered, glowing a little - much to your surprise. Though you guess if any part of it was going to glow, then… 

You grinned. 

“Guess I’ll just have to swap it around then for the totally unbiased audience?” 

Now. 

You were ready to swap it. You were ready to awkwardly worm around with his arms still around you, since, well. You didn’t realize he could commit to the bit with the same dedication as you, but of course he could, and his hands were not moving. But you weren’t gonna back down. Hell no. 

You were not, however, ready for him to hum. 

Or for his fingers to slide to the neck of your hoodie and slip it off your shoulders. 

He handled it with the same ease he would helping a kid into their coat. The hoodie’s larger stars across the back shone in the low light, not glowing but still glistening as Moon held up your hoodie before his eyes with a pleased noise. 

Half light, half dark. Like his own paint. 

It was really well designed. 

Though you found you were having a hard time focusing on it, for some reason. 

His eyes flicked to you. 

“Up.” 

On autopilot, you raised your arms. He tugged it back onto you, fingers smoothing the ruffles down across your shoulders, before just. Hanging there. Close. 

Like, really close? 

Like. He made this odd little hum? His hands stayed on your shoulders long after the ruffles had been tamed. His arms twitched, slipping further across your shoulders. 

Something felt. Weirdly warm in your chest. 

And then he tugged the hood up over your head - down over your eyes with a little laugh, and something hard bonked into your forehead. Just once. 

“Looks good, Starlight.” 

And he was gone. 

You swore, rubbing your forehead as you yanked the hood back, trying to find him but to no avail, though you… didn’t know what you would have said. All the bluster had left the building. 

Somehow, you think. 

You might have lost the bet.

Moon trying so hard not to laugh or hug Y/N while Y/N is buying a fuck ton of Moon merchandise

ㅤ

[themultifanshipper]

Sometimes, there's nothing like some heavy drinking and extreme cold to make sure best friends don't stay best friends.

You and Franco found this out the hard way.

Warnings: don't fuck on the beach guys it's really not a good idea, smut, belly bulge, squirting, alcohol, so many petnames I lost count, no good judgement to be found anywhere

I'll set the scene.

Winter break, at a beach house on the Argentinian coast, at night.

Everyone is sleeping, the only sound that can be heard is the waves crashing on the sand.

You and Franco were indeed best friends. And deeply, deeply in denial about your feelings for each other.

You followed him everywhere, fucking up your education to go to all his races, ever since you were 14.

And he never had a girlfriend because... well, how could he even look at other girls when you were around?

Now you were 23, and he'd fucked around a bit, and so had you. But it was never anything serious, drunken one night stands mostly.

But there you were, on the beach at 2 in the morning, playing a game of drunk hetero-chicken.

Like gay chicken, but longer and more painful to watch.

It involved throwing back shots, and running into the ocean.

The twist was that the ocean was fucking cold when there was no sun to warm you up, and there was only so much the cheap tequila could do, so once you were in the water you had to huddle up to share body heat.

It was only a matter of time before the huddling turned to groping.

You can't even remember who initiated the first kiss, but neither of you wanted to stay in the water for long after that.

Franco carried you out, your thighs firmly wrapped around his waist and his hands digging into your ass.

He set you down in the sand and climbed over you, shoving his way in between your legs.

You both knew what was about to happen, but were too fucking in love to care.

You whined at the stretch when the first of his thick fingers made its way into your quickly dampening cunt.

“It's okay, querida. Let me take care of you”

He bit your bottom lip at the same time as the second finger slipped in, both actions making you groan into his greedy mouth.

Mouth that decided to start traveling south and sucked a couple of bruises into your skin before going even further.

The hand that wasn't pumping in and out of you came up to pull at the string of your bikini, exposing your tits to him as he gulped and looked deep into your eyes.

“You are perfect, mi vida”

He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch into the sensation and he took the opportunity to slip a third finger in.

He hooked them upwards and you groaned your approval of his ministrations.

“Franco, fuck me- please”

“In a minute, baby, let me just-”

You looked down at this hand, and the sight of him slipping a fourth finger in was enough to make you clench around them, and he groaned, the squelch almost audible over the crashing waves.

“Fuck Franco, that's- I think that's enough, no?”

He chuckled. “I need to prepare you, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I am... uhh, big” he muttered, almost shyly, and if it hadn't been night-time you would have seen the blush creeping along his cheeks.

And if the bulge in his shorts was anything to go by, he wasn't lying.

You slipped a hand in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, and marveled at the thickness that met your touch.

Your fingers were barely long enough to wrap around him, and he grunted as you started pumping him slowly.

“Come on Franco, I won't break. I need you inside me, please”

And who was he to deny such a request.

Despite his inebriated state, he went slow, and was incredibly careful as he inched inside you with measured thrusts.

When his hips were finally flush with yours, you let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, I'm so full”

“I know querida, just breathe”

He let you adjust at your own pace, kissing your neck in an effort to distract you from the intense stretch.

“Okay” you gasped out “You can move baby”

The first gentle thrust was eath-shattering and you couldn't help but let out a shrill cry, which spurred Franco on.

He lifted you with an arm around your waist, sitting back on his haunches and holding you up so that he could thust into you while you clung onto him, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

You came once like that, panting and moaning into his mouth, before he lay you back down and put your legs over his shoulders.

He pounded into you hard and fast while you squirmed and whined at the overstimulation.

“Franco, oh my god” you gasped, feeling the beginnings of another orgasm approaching and he chuckled when he felt your cunt squeezing him tighter.

“You can do another one for me, baby, can't you?”

He looked down at you with a sick smirk and you nodded.

He glanced further down and his jaw tightened at what he saw.

“Look baby, look how good I’m filling you”

You followed his gaze and landed on the slight bulge that appeared when he was fully inside you.

You moaned and he laughed, his hips speeding up.

“You like that, huh? Go on and rub yourself for me while I make you feel good”

You complied immediately, fingers going down to rub fast circles on your clit, and at the same time Franco put a hand over the bulge and pressed down.

You saw stars, literally and metaphorically as you spasmed around him, juices coating his hips and thighs, and seeping into the wet sand.

Your head was thrown back while you cried out his name into the night, and once you were sated he quickly pulled out and fisted his cock until the thick ropes of his cum landed on your thighs and soaked folds, mixing with your own release.

He leaned down to kiss you, not caring about lying in his own spend because, after all you just needed to have a dip in the water to clean off.

You lay like that for a bit, just kissing in the moonlight while the sound of the waves faded into the background.

After a while you separated and he chuckled.

“Thank god we are outside. I don't think I've ever made anyone squirt that much before.”

You slapped his chest lightly and giggled. “Franco!”

He smiled and leaned down to capture your lips once more.

“Come, lets go inside before we catch un resfriado”

You didn't know what that was, but you followed him anyway.

You took a long hot shower, and curled up together in bed, like you always did.

The next day you learned what a ‘resfriado’ is (it’s a fucking nasty bitch of a cold), and you also learned that Franco's poor mother had gotten up in the night to get a glass of water, and had the misfortune of looking out of the window.

She apparently got quite an eyeful of the filth that you two were getting up to.

[glitteredbubbles]

9 10 Fandom Folks to Get to Know Better

Thanks so much for the tag @schofielded !!

3 Ships I Like

Okay so I’m currently writing for Anderperry so they have to be at the top of the list, Reddie is my beloved which I fear will follow me throughout my life so they’re next, and hmm idk what to put for my third one since I like to read for a lot of ships and have barely written for others. I think I’ll go with a surprise pick and say Boreo! Tragic gays for the win

First Ship Ever

Omg I actually cannot say it was too embarrassing. The first one I’m willing to say is Larry which is also embarrassing and I regret it but I fear the fanfic was so good sorry.

Last Song I Heard

Drums of Death by FKA Twigs. I am addicted, something about the beat is just so good.

Favorite Childhood Book

This is kind of hard for me because I mainly had author phases as a kid rather than just one book that I adored. Looking back, though, I would probably say The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo was my favorite. Her descriptions were so good that it made me want to eat paper like the mice.

Currently Reading

Four Minutes by Nataliya Deleva! It’s a queer Bulgarian novel I’m reading for my around the world goal and I’m really enjoying it so far!

Currently Watching

Just finished watching Swing Girls (2004) so I’m counting it since I’m between TV shows right now. Anyway the movie was so cute and feel-good, I definitely recommend!!

Currently Consuming

I had fried chicken for dinner if that’s what this is referring to. Anyway it was good!

Currently Craving

A strawberry limeade with added coconut and cream from Sonic 💔 I don’t have my car rn so I am stranded sadly

No pressure tags: @neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies @vinesandvellichor @good--merits-accumulated @lc-27 @axe-76 @dreadedwhim @poetrusic1959 @yawping-poets-society @scriptscraps @neilperryismine + open to anyone who wants to join!!

[sasheemo]

Friday Thoughts

Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Sharing dinner with Agatha and Nicholas shouldn't be too hard, right? But Saturday night at Agatha’s has other plans. As the evening unfolds, tensions escalate and desires ignite, promising anything but an ordinary end.

Chapter Tags: Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Gay Panic But Make It Domestic, The Tension Is Tensioning, Accidental Eavesdropping, Masturbation

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Chapter 3 is here! Spoiler alert: it’s long. Like, the longest chapter I’ve ever written for any multi-chapter fic, it took a lifetime because I wanted to pack in so much. Honestly, I don’t even want to think about how many times I wrote, re-read, and completely tore it apart because I hated it. It’s been through the wringer, y’all.

Am I 100% happy with it? No. Will I ever be? Also no. But if I keep tweaking it, it’ll never see the light of day, so… here it is, flaws and all!

Let’s just say things are heating up, and this chapter sets the stage for the spicy goodness that’s coming in Chapter 4.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading, enjoy 💜

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

The clock creeps closer to seven as you sit on the floor with Nicholas, your hands idly stacking blocks while your thoughts wander to the kitchen. 

Agatha has been in there for a while now, the faint clinking of dishes and the soft rush of running water weaving through the quiet of the house.

At one point, unable to resist, you’d stood and smoothed your sweater nervously before edging toward the kitchen doorway. 

“Do you need a hand with anything?” you’d asked, your voice hesitant as you lingered just outside.

She’d glanced over her shoulder, a wisp of hair falling loose from behind her ear. Her lips curved into a faint, almost absentminded smile. 

“No need, hon.” she’d said lightly, returning to the cutting board without missing a beat. “After a day like today, this is how I unwind. Just keep Nicholas entertained, and make sure you’ve got an appetite.”

You’d nodded, retreating to the living room with a strange mix of relief and unease, unsure whether to feel dismissed or reassured.

Now, your gaze drifts toward the kitchen doorway again, catching fleeting glimpses of Agatha as she moves gracefully through the space. The subtle flicker of her silhouette, the fluid motion of her hands as she reaches for something on the counter, it’s almost hypnotic. 

You find it harder and harder to look away, your eyes drawn back to the doorway every few moments.

Then, the realization that you’re about to sit at the same table as her hits you like a brick wall, and your brain immediately kicks into overdrive. Where will you sit? What will you say? How will you stop yourself from staring at her like some starstruck idiot? The thought alone makes your chest feel tighter, and you let out a quiet, resigned sigh. 

Dinner hasn’t even started, and you’re already losing it.

Finally, her voice calls out from the kitchen, announcing that dinner’s ready.

Nicholas springs up instantly, his blocks forgotten as he rushes toward the kitchen. You follow more cautiously, your pulse quickening as you step into the room.

The table is set simply but elegantly, with the kind of care that feels distinctly Agatha. At the center, there’s a steaming dish of herb-roasted chicken rests on a platter, surrounded by golden baby potatoes and vibrant roasted vegetables. 

The scent of rosemary, garlic, and lemon fills the air, rich and inviting, but it only makes your stomach flip—not from hunger, but from the realization of where you are and who you’re sharing this moment with.

Agatha stands by the head of the table, placing the final plate in its spot, her expression is calm as she straightens and meets your gaze.

“Sit.” she says lightly, gesturing to the seat across from hers as though this is all perfectly normal.

You glance at Nicholas, who’s already climbing into his chair without hesitation. Taking a steadying breath, you lower yourself into the seat she’s indicated, trying not to think too much about how surreal this feels.

Agatha moves with her usual composure, taking her place at the table. She leans back slightly, one hand curling around the stem of her wineglass, her gaze drifting over the food before landing on you. It lingers just long enough to send a flicker of heat up your spine, your pulse quickening under the weight of her attention.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold.” she says, her voice warm but commanding, the kind of tone that makes it sound less like a suggestion and more like a quiet decree. 

“This is so good, Mom! Did you make the potatoes crispy on purpose?” Nicholas asks with a grin, already halfway through his first bite.

“Of course.” she replies, arching an eyebrow as her lips curve playfully. “Is there any other way to do them?”

Nicholas shakes his head vigorously, his mouth now too full to reply properly. You suppress a laugh and glance at Agatha, who catches your eye with an amused glint in her own.

“And what do you think?” she asks, her gaze settling on you like a spotlight. “Passable for a last-minute effort?”

You blink, caught off guard by her directness. 

“It’s delicious.” you say, and you mean it, though the compliment feels inadequate. “I think Nicholas might be right about the potatoes. They’re perfect.”

Agatha tilts her head slightly, as if weighing your response, before giving a soft hum of approval. 

“Good.” she says, her voice low and velvety. “I’d hate to disappoint.” 

Her eyes lock on yours, a spark of mischief flickering just beneath the surface, as if she’s gauging your reaction, or outright daring you to respond. 

Then, as if to twist the knife just a little deeper, she adds a slow, languid wink that sends a sharp jolt straight through you. 

You’re left speechless, grasping for a response that never comes. Agatha, of course, doesn’t wait for one. 

She shifts her attention back to Nicholas, asking about his latest castle design, her tone light and engaging as though she hasn’t just left you squirming in your seat. 

As they talk, you force yourself to focus on their conversation, chiming in occasionally, but your mind keeps wandering. Every so often, your gaze drifts back to her, trying—and failing—to reconcile the poised, commanding Agatha you’ve come to know with the one sitting at this table.

There’s a warmth to her, something relaxed and comfortingly domestic. It’s strange, watching her here, casually slicing into a piece of chicken and humoring Nicholas’ endless stream of questions.

And yet, as foreign as this moment feels, there’s something about it that tugs at you, a quiet sense of belonging you hadn’t anticipated.

As dinner ends, you rise from the table, stacking your empty wineglass atop your plate in an effort to make a smooth exit.

“Thanks again for dinner.” you say, keeping your tone light but sincere. “It was wonderful. I should probably let you two enjoy the rest of your evening—”

“Wait!” Nicholas bursts out, his chair scraping against the floor as he jumps to his feet. “You can’t go! We have to watch a movie!”

You gape at him, eyes wide, like he’s just suggested skydiving without a parachute or eating soup with a fork.

“Uh, a movie?” you repeat, glancing between him and Agatha. 

Surely, this is where she steps in to say it’s too late, that it’s time to wind down.

But to your surprise, Agatha simply raises an eyebrow, her expression amused. 

“A movie.” she echoes, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass. “Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“You always say that! Come on, mom. It’s Saturday!” Nicholas complains dramatically, his hands on his hips in a way that’s almost comical.

You open your mouth to help, to offer a dismissal Nicholas might accept—“Maybe next time” or “Your mom probably wants to relax.”—but before you can get a word out, Agatha’s gaze shifts to you.

“You did say your evening was wide open. So, what’s it going to be, hon? Care to join us?” she asks, leaning back slightly in her chair. 

Each syllable feels like a finger pressing to the one thought you’re trying desperately to bury: that not only do you have nowhere else to be, but if you’re honest with yourself, there’s nowhere you’d rather be.

Her lips curve into a knowing smile, the kind that suggests she’s already read your mind and is simply waiting for you to catch up.

“I—well, I don’t…” you start, your voice faltering as your mind scrambles for a coherent response. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude or—”

“Intrude?” she interrupts, her brows lifting in mock surprise. “On my son’s demands and my… oh-so-thrilling evening of cleaning up after dinner?” She leans forward slightly, her smile softening but never losing its edge. “Come now, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you scramble to find the right words, your tongue suddenly feeling two sizes too big. 

“I just thought—you know, maybe you’d rather spend the evening relaxing. Just the two of you. I wouldn’t want to… overstay.” you manage, your voice wavering as your face burns hotter by the second.

“I wouldn’t exactly call the cinematic torture Nicky usually puts me through my ideal way to relax. But if you stay, at least I won’t have to endure it alone.” she muses, the words landing with practiced subtlety, as though she’s tossing the suggestion into the air to see how it falls. 

It’s not quite an invitation, not explicitly—but the subtle curve of her lips and the way her eyes insist on finding yours tell a different story, one she keeps ambiguous enough to leave you guessing.

If you choose the professional route—thank her again, grab your things, and leave—would you ever forgive yourself? Could you really walk away now, knowing you’d just turned down the chance to sit in her orbit a little longer? 

But staying… staying feels like opening a whole other door. The kind of door that leads to a night even more absurd than this one already feels, where the lines between reality and your own impossible daydreams blur so completely, you’re not sure you’d know the difference.

You’re stuck in the tension of that choice, the possibilities pressing down on you, when Nicholas’ voice explodes through the moment, shattering it entirely.

“I’ll go pick a movie!” he announces, his excitement bubbling over as he bolts toward the living room, a blur of motion and enthusiasm. The spell is broken, and you exhale, blinking as reality floods back in.

You glance back at Agatha, half-expecting her to change her mind now that he’s out of earshot. Instead, she leans back in her chair again, her eyes glinting with that usual quiet amusement. 

“There you have it.” she quips lightly, gesturing toward the living room. “Looks like the decision’s been made for you.”

Her words land with a calm finality, and for a moment, you simply stand there, unsure of what to do next. Before your nerves can get the better of you, you decide to grasp at the first thing that feels remotely purposeful.

“I’ll help clear the table.” you offer, your voice quick, almost rushed. “It’s the least I can do.”

You reach for a plate before the words have fully left your mouth, but as you stack the dishes and carry them to the sink, you can feel her gaze trailing you, quiet and intent.

You roll up your sleeves, the simple motion grounding you as you turn on the faucet. The water’s warmth seeps into your skin, and the rhythmic clatter of dishes offers a fragile sort of focus. 

For a moment, you dare to think you’ve managed to steady yourself.

But then, the scrape of her chair against the floor echoes through the room. 

The steady rhythm you thought you’d found falters as you hear her footsteps closing the distance between you. She moves into the space beside you, her presence altering the air itself. 

The faint clink of glasses being placed on the counter pulls your focus for a second, but it’s the feeling of her hand brushing against your waist that makes your body freeze.

With the warmth of her palm burning through the fabric of your sweater, the plate in your hands slips through your grip. You fumble, the sharp sound of porcelain against the sink cutting through the quiet as you catch it just in time.

“Careful, hon.” she murmurs, her voice impossibly close, rich with that maddening calm. But there’s no hint of apology, just the smug confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.

All of a sudden, the water streaming over your hands feels unbearably loud, each droplet amplified against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the roaring in your ears. 

Each of your senses narrows, zeroing in on the spot where her hand rests against you. Her touch isn’t pressing, nor forceful, it’s just there, as if she’s delicately testing the boundaries of the moment.

Your cheeks burn, and you’re sure she can see it, but you can’t bring yourself to look at her, not when every nerve in your body feels like it’s caught fire. 

Before the moment stretches into something unbearable, Nicholas’ voice cuts through the stillness. 

“I found the movie!” he calls from the living room, his excitement palpable. “Come on, it’s starting!”

Agatha straightens, her hand leaving your waist, and the absence feels almost as intense as the touch itself. 

“Duty calls.” she says smoothly, her composure unshaken as she heads toward the living room without looking back.

You exhale shakily, gripping the edge of the sink for balance as you force yourself to calm down. With one last glance at the water, you shut it off and follow her, stubbornly pushing aside the ghost of her touch that refuses to fade from your body.

When you step into the living room, Nicholas is already curled up in one corner of the couch, wrapped in a blanket with the remote clutched triumphantly in his hands. His grin is so wide it’s almost glowing, radiating the pure victory of having secured his movie of choice.

It’s a scene of pure innocence, simple and easy, but your focus falters when your gaze shifts to Agatha.

She pauses at the edge of the couch, leaning down to unfasten her heels with graceful precision. The soft thud as they hit the rug feels somehow amplified in the quiet of the room. A low, contented sigh escapes her lips as she straightens, the sound carrying the unmistakable weight of a long day finally set aside.

Then, she sinks onto the central cushion of the couch, elegantly tucking one leg beneath her, folding into the space with casual confidence. One arm lifts to drape over the backrest, her fingers splayed idly.

You hesitate, your heart stuttering as the realization hits.

You weren’t prepared for this. You’d assumed Nicholas would sit between you, a natural, innocent buffer that would keep you at a safe, comfortable distance. But now, the couch looks impossibly small.

Panic rises even more when you realize you’ve been standing halfway between the kitchen and the couch for far too long, awkwardly frozen in place like prey caught in a snare.

For a fleeting moment, you genuinely consider sitting on the floor. But, as always, Agatha’s timing is impeccable. 

Her voice cuts through your inner turmoil like silk, laced with that signature teasing amusement that makes you want to both melt and scream.

“Are you planning to stand there all night?” she asks as her eyes lock onto yours. She tilts her head slightly, patting the cushion beside her. “Come, sit.”

Forcing your legs to cooperate, you move toward the couch, every step slower than the last. By the time you lower yourself onto the cushion, your body feels coiled, as if every muscle is bracing for impact.

You try to sit casually, like you’re perfectly at ease, teetering on the very edge of the cushion as if that extra inch might save you. 

But the effort is useless. The space between you is practically nonexistent, laughably small, and you’re acutely aware of every inch separating you.

She makes no effort to adjust her position or move her arm, leaving it draped lazily across the backrest, her fingers resting just shy of your shoulder. 

You clasp your hands tightly in your lap, fixing your gaze on the screen with a determination that borders on desperation.

Nicholas, oblivious as ever, starts the movie. The opening scene bursts to life on the screen, colorful and loud, his excitement spilling over as he narrates every detail. 

You nod along absently, keeping your eyes fixed ahead. But the truth is, you couldn’t explain a single thing happening in the movie if your life depended on it.

All of your attention is wrapped around Agatha, around her presence and the quiet weight of it. It’s nothing short of consuming, and every movement she makes feels seismic: the subtle shift of her posture, the barely audible rustle of her clothes as she settles deeper into the cushions, the gradual ease of her shoulders as though she’s letting the weight of the day melt away.

You feel like you’re about to lose your mind trying to understand how she can appear so perfectly composed while you sit there, silently coming apart at the seams.

And then, without warning, her knee brushes against yours.

Instinctively, you shift slightly to the side, leaning further into the backrest, but the movement only makes things worse. 

The arm that had been resting lazily behind you is now definitely touching your shoulder.

Your breath catches, your body locking up before you can stop it, every nerve screaming at the contact. 

Surely, she’ll move away. She has to.

But she doesn’t.

Neither her leg nor her arm budges, as if the contact is completely natural, as if she didn’t even notice. You, on the other hand, feel like you’re drowning in the sensation. 

Her proximity completely floods your senses. It feels as if the world has shrunk to the points were your bodies are touching, the faint pressure on your leg and shoulder anchoring you to the spot. 

And then, as if to seal your fate, you feel her gaze on you.

You don’t dare look at her, but from the corner of your eye you can see her head turned toward you. Her eyes are fixed on your face, and they might as well be burning holes through your head for how intensely she’s staring.

Everything begins to blur, the room fading as your thoughts swallow you whole. Once again, you find yourself grasp at rationality, trying to explain away her behavior and your own feelings, convincing yourself it’s all in your head. 

But the longer you sit there, the harder it is to believe that.

It’s been four months since you started working for her, four months of walking into this house, telling yourself you were foolish for even entertaining the thought that someone like Agatha Harkness could ever see you that way, as anything more than Nicky’s babysitter. 

During all this time, you’ve dismissed every fleeting glance, every teasing word, every ambiguous gesture, chalking it all up to her natural charm. You convinced yourself you were imagining things, creating meaning where there was none, deluding yourself into believing you could ever hold her attention.

But tonight? Tonight feels undeniably different. Especially after what she said last night. 

The tension has been simmering beneath the surface for this whole time, each moment building on the last, and now there’s no mistaking it: Agatha’s behavior is intentional, deliberate in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

These aren’t the actions of someone indulging in a meaningless game. Sure, Agatha has a very teasing nature, you know that. But she isn’t careless, she doesn’t do unprofessionalism. She wouldn’t risk making you uncomfortable—or worse, crossing a line—without a reason, especially when it involves someone so closely tied to Nicholas.

You wonder if you’ve been blind to something that’s been there all along, oblivious to what’s been right in front of you—if you’ve had an actual chance all this time and simply refused to see it.

Because at this point, no other explanation fits.

Your heart races, the possibility exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure, a mix of longing and fear swelling in your chest.

When the credits finally roll, Nicholas lets out a loud yawn, stretching his arms above his head before slumping back into the couch. His eyelids droop heavily, but there’s a satisfied smile on his face.

“That was the best movie night ever!” he declares with a sleepy grin, his voice softening as exhaustion starts to win. 

He turns toward you, pushes off the blanket and practically climbs over Agatha to crawl over and wrap his arms around your shoulders in a hug that’s warm and unexpected.

“Thanks for staying.” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your sweater. “It was really fun doing this with you and Mom.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you blink rapidly, taken aback by the tenderness of it all. 

Words fail you, any attempt at a response dissolving into nothing as an involuntary smile tugs at your lips. You feel yourself melt into the embrace, your hands settling lightly against his back as you return the hug gently.

Nicholas pulls back, his grin bright despite his sleepy eyes, and he turns toward Agatha, who’s already rising from the couch.

“Mom, can we do this again soon?” he asks, rubbing his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet.

“We’ll see.” Agatha replies smoothly, resting a hand on his back to steady him. “Now come on. Bedtime.”

Just before they step out of the living room to head upstairs, Agatha glances back over her shoulder. Her head tilts ever so slightly, the soft glow of the room catching the sharps curves of her profile. Her eyes find yours, holding them with an intensity that feels almost disarming, and for a moment, it feels like the air stills around her.

“Wait here, won’t you?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper laced with quiet insistence “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You don’t even think, your head nods instinctively, a reflex before your mind can catch up.

As she turns away, you catch a faint glint in her eyes, something unreadable that looks almost like… anticipation?

The quiet sound of their footsteps fades into the background, leaving the room steeped in silence. It’s just you now, alone in the living room, with nothing but the weight of her words and the echo of your own thoughts.

The thing is, the babysitter would have left already. 

You’d planned to leave the moment she was done working, when Nicholas no longer needed you and when Agatha was free to reclaim her evening. 

But then came dinner, a polite invitation you couldn’t bring yourself to decline. And later, when the plates were cleared and you’d readied yourself to go, the movie became yet another reason to stay.

But now it’s late. Nicholas is heading to bed. There’s no reason for you to be here. And yet… she wants you to. For the third time tonight, you’re faced with a choice, though deep down, you know the decision has already been made. 

You’ll wait. Because she asked you to. Because it’s her.

You lean back against the couch, exhaling shakily. Your mind spins, grasping at the threads of the evening, trying to weave them into something coherent.

Agatha descends the stairs a few minutes later, the faint sound of her steps barely registering over the buzz of your thoughts. She doesn’t spare you a glance, doesn’t say a word, moving with singular purpose as she crosses the living room and disappears into the kitchen. 

The faint clink of glass and the soft pop of a cork being pulled echo faintly, carrying with them a sense of inevitability that sets your heart racing.

Moments later, she reemerges with the bottle of wine from dinner in one hand and two glasses in the other. Her movements are smooth, practiced, as if this is all part of some unspoken ritual. 

She sets the glasses on the coffee table and pours the wine with precision before handing you one and taking the other for herself.

Then, despite the now ample space on the couch, she chooses the same spot as before, her knee brushing against yours once again when she crosses her legs.

“Cheers.” she says lightly, raising her glass in your direction.

“Cheers.” you reply, the word coming out softer than you intended as you lift your glass. 

The first sip settles warmly in your chest, cutting through some of the tension of the evening.

For a while, the two of you talk easily. She asks about Nicholas and your morning job, and you gladly share little stories about his antics and your shifts at the café. 

Agatha listens intently, her occasional hums and soft chuckles weaving seamlessly into the conversation.

You ask her about her work, though she keeps her answers vague, offering only the occasional quip about paperwork, tedious calls and demanding clients. It’s clear she’s deflecting, but her tone is so effortlessly charming that you don’t press further. 

Instead, you find yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the exchange, the wine loosening the edges of your nerves.

By the time the third glass is poured, the atmosphere feels incredibly comfortable, like the two of you have settled into a pocket of time removed from the rest of the world. 

You’re leaning back against the couch now, your own legs crossed on the cushion, and the soft hum of casual conversation filling the space between you.

But then, completely out of nowhere, the words spill out of your mouth with an abruptness that shifts the air immediately.

“Do you always drink this much with your babysitters?” you ask, your tone is light, almost playful, but there’s an edge of nervousness beneath it.

Agatha’s response comes slower than expected, but when it does, it lands like a deliberate blow.

“Only the ones worth breaking the rules for.” her voice is low, sultry, and laced with an edge of amusement that makes the room feel impossibly smaller.

Your throat goes completely dry on the spot, and you try to will your brain to keep up, to find something clever to say. A snarky remark, a witty comeback, an equally teasing reply, anything.

You fumble with your glass, taking a sip longer than necessary, the wine coursing through you like liquid fire. Each drop seems to stoke the embers in your chest, unfurling in waves, merging with the simmering frustration that has been tightening its grip on you all night.

Boldness—fueled by the wine, the smoldering tension, and the enigma that is Agatha—surges to the surface.  Before you can think, the words slip out.

“Why do you do this?” your voice is sharper than you intended, and it cuts through the air between you like a knife.

Agatha raises an eyebrow, her smirk deepening as she leans back against the couch. 

“Do what, exactly?” she asks, feigning innocence, though the glint in her eyes betrays her.

“This.” you gesture vaguely between the two of you, frustration bleeding into your tone. “The teasing, the looks, the… the way you—” you break off, exhaling sharply. “It’s like you enjoy watching me lose my mind.”

She chuckles darkly, the sound almost dangerous, and it sends a shiver down your spine. She sets her glass on the coffee table, her movements unhurried, calculated.

“Maybe I do.” she murmurs, her tone dropping into something quieter, more intimate. Her gaze locks onto yours, and she leans forward slightly, slowly closing the distance between you inch by inch.

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body on high alert. She’s close enough now that you can feel the faint warmth of her body.

But she doesn’t stop. She leans in further, her face now just a breath away from yours. Her eyes flick down to your lips for a fleeting moment, and your breath catches.

“You’re not the only one losing their mind tonight, you know.” her voice drops to a whisper, low and raw, and you’re pretty sure your pulse flatlines. 

The world around you fades, the only thing grounding you is the way her icy gaze holds you captive. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you think this is it—this is where the line between you finally blurs.

But then your eyes flicker down, catching sight of the glass still clutched in your hand, and reality slams into you like a freight train.

The wine—it’s been warming you, emboldening you, loosening you. And now, with her so close, you can’t shake the fear that it’s not just you under its influence. What if this moment isn’t real? What if it’s the wine, not her, driving the spark in her eyes, the closeness of her breath? The thought twists in your chest, sharp and painful. You don’t want this, her, to be something fleeting, something hazy and tainted by doubt.

You pull back, the movement abrupt and jarring, completely annihilating the moment. 

Agatha freezes, her body leaning back instinctively, confusion flickering in her eyes.

“I can’t.” you say quickly, your voice trembling slightly. “Not like this.”

Her brow furrows, and she tilts her head. 

“Not like what?” she asks, her tone still smooth but tinged with curiosity, fascination even.

“With… with the wine.” you stammer, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want to— I mean, I don’t know if—” You let out a shaky exhale, setting your glass down beside hers. “I just… I can’t.”

You rise to your feet, your movements hurried and almost clumsy as you try to put some distance between the two of you. 

Agatha doesn’t stop you, but her gaze follows your every move, unreadable and heavy.

“I should go.” you mumble, your frustration bubbling to the surface. Even though you’re not sure if it’s directed at her, at yourself, or at the entire night.

You barely take a couple of steps toward the door when Agatha’s voice calls after you, firm and unyielding.

“You shouldn’t leave.” 

Her voice echoes through the room, and even though her words aren’t a real command, they sure feel like one.

You halt mid-step and slowly turn to face her, your chest tightening at the sight. She’s still seated on the couch, her posture casual but her gaze piercing, pinning you in place.

“It’s late.” she says, her tone measured, as if explaining something obvious. “You’ve had wine. The roads are dark. I’d rather not spend the rest of the night worrying about whether or not you made it home safely.”

Her words are practical, almost dismissive, as though the charged moment between you never happened. But there’s something beneath the surface—a subtle current in her voice that makes it impossible to tell if she’s truly unaffected or simply hiding it well.

“I’m fine.” your reply is automatic, defensive. But even as you say it, the shakiness in your voice betrays you.

“You don’t look fine, hon. You look like someone about to storm out into the night just to prove a point. Agatha says, her tone steady, though her expression softens just slightly. 

There’s still an edge of steel in her eyes, a quiet challenge buried beneath her words.

“I can handle myself.” you bite out, though the words sound hollow, even to you.

She exhales softly, the faintest flicker of something—annoyance? amusement?—crossing her features. 

Then, with a surprising grace for someone that just had three glasses of wine, she rises from the couch and closes the distance between you.

“I don’t doubt that. But tell me this: what exactly are you proving by leaving right now? And to whom?”

Her words hit their mark, and you feel the fight drain out of you. Because she’s right, you’re not leaving because it’s practical. You’re leaving because you’re overwhelmed, unsure, afraid of what staying might mean or lead to.

Agatha’s eyes stay locked on yours as she continues, her voice taking on a tone that’s almost… tender. 

“Stay.” she says simply, the single word carrying so much weight it feels like it might crush you. “It’s late. There’s no reason for you to go rushing out into the night when you don’t have to.”

You glance toward the door, then back at her, weighing your options.

The truth is, you are tired—tired of the emotions, of the push and pull of the evening that’s left you feeling completely unraveled. The idea of staying, of letting the night end on a quieter note, is far too tempting to resist.

“Fine.” you finally answer, your own tone colder than you expected.

“Good.” she says, stepping back to give you space. “The guest room is ready. It’s not much, but it’ll do for tonight.”

She turns and starts toward the stairs. You hesitate for a moment, your mind still spinning with the events of the past hours, before following her.

You sigh, exhaustion settling into your bones as you reach the top of the stairs. Right now, none of it matters—not the tension, not the confusion, not the endless spiraling questions that have chased you all night. All you want is to sleep, to let the haze of the wine fade away in the quiet refuge of a bed. Whether it’s your own or the one in Agatha’s guest room, it doesn’t seem to make a difference anymore.

You barely notice as Agatha pauses by a linen closet, pulling out a neatly folded towel and an oversized t-shirt.

“This should do.” she states, handing them to you. 

Her tone is neutral, almost too casual, as if nothing about the evening had been remotely unusual. Her gaze doesn’t linger as long as usual though, she doesn’t meet your eyes for more than a second before nodding toward the guest room door.

“That’s yours for the night.” she gestures briefly, indicating the room between the bathroom and Nicholas’ door at the far end of the hall. “Bathroom’s just here.” she continues, pointing to the door next to hers on the opposite end.

“Thanks.” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you grip the towel and shirt tightly.

Agatha hums faintly, stepping back toward her room. For a second, you think she might say more, but instead, she simply glances over her shoulder.

“Goodnight.”, her tone is warm, yet the word feels strangely clipped. 

Before you can respond, she slips into her room and disappears in the ensuite bathroom.

You stand there for a few seconds, awkwardly rooted in place. Your own “Goodnight” comes out almost as an afterthought, mumbled into the silence as you step into the guest room and close the door behind you.

The room is elegant and cozy, a neatly made bed dominating the space and a single lamp casting a warm glow over the soft cream walls. 

You drop the towel onto the edge of the bed and hold up the shirt, its fabric soft and worn in a way that feels oddly intimate.

You undress and slip it over your head, only to be immediately engulfed by Agatha’s perfume. It clings to the fabric, potent and intoxicating, and for a moment, you allow the scent to wash over you and flood your senses.

Heat coils low in your stomach, and you shake your head quickly, brushing off whatever effect wearing something of hers seems to be having on you. 

With a steadying breath, you fold the towel over your arm and step back out into the hall, heading towards the bathroom.

The splash of cold water against your face is grounding, but even as you dry off and prepare to head back to your room, you can’t shake the way her scent fills you nostrils with every minuscule movement.

Stepping into the hallway, you’re greeted by darkness, broken only by a faint sliver of light seeping from beneath your door. 

You take a step toward the guest room, but a faint sound slices through the stillness.

It’s almost imperceptible, a noise so soft and muffled that, for a second, you wonder if you imagined it.

You hold your breath as your eyes flick toward the ajar door of Agatha’s room. You think about just brushing it off, receding to the relative safety of the guest room and pretending you heard nothing.

But then you hear it again. 

Your feet move before your brain can catch up, carrying you a step closer, as quietly as possible on the wooden floorboards.

And the closer you get, the clearer the sound becomes.

Another low, broken noise escapes, this time accompanied by a faint rustle of fabric. 

The realization dawns slowly, burning through you like wildfire. Your stomach twists, heat pooling low in your abdomen as the truth of what you’re hearing sinks in.

You consider retreating. You do. But your legs refuse to move. 

Something keeps you rooted in place, drawn forward as though compelled by a force beyond your control.

Your bare feet barely make a sound against the cool wood floor as you edge closer to Agatha’s door, muffled moans growing more vivid with every inch of space you gain. You can hear her breathing now, shallow and uneven, each exhale laced with pleasure that seems to echo in your own chest.

Your knees weaken as you reach the doorframe. And then you hear it.

“Yes… oh fuck, yes.”

Her rough voice rips through you like a physical force. The raw intimacy of it, the unguarded need, sends a sharp jolt straight down your spine. Your lips part on a shaky breath, your thighs pressing together instinctively against the unbearable ache building between them.

Every nerve in your body is on fire, wetness pools between your legs, and you feel a flush creeping up your neck, your skin hypersensitive to even the faintest brush of air.

Another broken moan follows, and it takes every ounce of restraint not to make a sound in return.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to will yourself back to reality, to sanity. But all you can picture is her—Agatha, in the darkness of her room, her head tilted back, her lips parted as she whispers filthy, desperate things into the still air.

You can’t stop imagining what it would feel like to be the reason for those sounds.

The thought is intoxicating, dangerous, and far too tempting.

But you know you can’t let your mind go there. You know this is the moment to turn around, to leave, to escape before you lose yourself completely.

Pressing your back against the wall beside the doorframe, you focus on steadying your breath, though every nerve in your body feels alive, thrumming with a tension that leaves you trembling. Each sound she makes only tightens the coil in your stomach, the ache quickly approaching unbearable levels.

You take one last, shaky breath as she whispers another low curse that shoots straight through your core. Then, with every ounce of willpower you can muster, you step back, your movements shaky and reluctant. 

Each step toward the guest room feels like a battle, every fiber of your being screaming at you to turn back.

You step into the guest room and close the door behind you, leaning against it trying to steady yourself. Your heart still pounds, each beat reverberating through your chest, your entire body tingling in the wake of what you just experienced.

The room feels quiet, mercifully so, the sounds that had haunted you moments ago are now gone, silenced by the thick walls of Agatha’s home. You take a moment to reassure yourself—there’s no way Nicholas could hear anything, not from his room at the other end of the hallway. Agatha knows her house, knows its secrets. Of course, she’d be careful.

With that thought, you push yourself off the door and move toward the bed. You slip under the covers and reach for the lamp on the nightstand, turning it off. 

Darkness envelopes you, but it does nothing to quiet the sensations coursing through your body. The ache low in your stomach has only intensified since you left her door.

Your fingers tighten on the edge of the blanket, your breathing uneven as you squeeze your thighs together, desperate for even the smallest bit of relief.

But it’s no use. The ache is too insistent, too consuming. The memory of her moans, her breathy curses, fills your mind. You can still hear them, low and filthy, the rawness of her need reverberating throughout your whole body.

Your hand moves on its own, slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt. Your fingers trail over your stomach, climbing higher until they reach your breast. The moment your palm cups the soft flesh, a sharp jolt of pleasure shoots through you.

You suck in a breath, biting down hard on your lip to muffle the quiet whimper that escapes your throat. 

Your thumb brushes over your nipple, circling it slowly until it hardens beneath your touch. The sensation sends a wave of heat straight to your core, your hips shifting restlessly beneath the covers.

Your other hand moves lower, brushing over the waistband of your panties. There’s a moment of hesitation, but it’s brief. The heat pooling between your thighs is unbearable now, and you can’t deny yourself any longer. 

Your fingers slip beneath the fabric, sliding over the wetness that greets you. You gasp quietly, the slick evidence of your arousal coating your fingertips. 

“Fuck…” you whisper, the word slipping out unbidden, the sound barely audible but laced with desperation.

Your fingers glide over your clit, the swollen bundle of nerves already sensitive, and you bite back another moan. You begin to circle it slowly, the pressure just enough to stoke the fire burning in your stomach.

But you need more. You press your fingers lower, sliding one inside yourself, then another. The stretch is delicious, the rhythm instinctive as your hips buck against your hand. 

You curl your fingers, hitting just the right spot, and the pleasure that ripples through you makes your toes curl.

Your hand moves faster now, your palm grinding against your clit with each thrust of your fingers. The wet sounds of your movements would be obscene if they weren’t muffled by the covers, but instead of embarrassment, it only fuels your arousal.

And then, Agatha seizes complete control of your mind. You imagine her fingers instead of yours, the way they’d explore you, claim you. You picture her leaning over you, her voice condescending and commanding as she tells you how good you feel, how she can’t get enough of you.

Your back arches off the bed as your hand moves to your other breast, kneading it roughly. Your nipples are so sensitive now that each pinch, each roll between your fingers, leaves you wetter, the slickness between your thighs growing with each needy, breathless motion, soaking your fingers as you lose yourself completely to the sensation.

You imagine her lips replacing your hand, her tongue flicking over the hardened peak before she bites down, just enough to make you gasp. Your hips jerk involuntarily, the image too vivid, too real.

Her voice fills your mind, rough and low, the way she cursed earlier. But this time, it’s for you.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Let go for me.”

You can almost feel her breath against your skin, her weight pressing you into the mattress, her fingers fucking you with a precision that leaves you shaking.

Your fingers thrust deeper, harder, curling just right as your thumb flicks over your clit. The tension in your stomach coils tighter, impossibly tight, until you’re teetering on the edge.

“Agatha…” you whisper, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

The sound of it, the feel of it on your tongue, pushes you over the edge. 

The tension snaps, pleasure exploding through you wave after wave, so intense it leaves you trembling.

Your thighs clamp around your hand, your hips grinding against your fingers as the aftershocks ripple through you. Your other hand grips the sheets tightly, your knuckles white as you ride out every last pulse of pleasure.

For a long moment, you lie there, your chest heaving, your body a trembling, oversensitive mess. Slowly, your hand slips away, the wetness on your fingers a reminder of just how badly you want her.

You don’t bother cleaning up, your limbs too heavy to move. Sleep tugs at you, irresistible in the aftermath of your release. 

As your eyes drift shut, her name rests on the edges of your consciousness, a soft echo you can’t help but chase.

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Characters as things I've said/heard people say

I went to the fair with my family so you get this

---

Angel: No regrets, if we die good riddance

----

Cherri: I would strap myself to a bomb for fun

----

Charlie: I haven't pet a cow in too long I think

----

Vaggie: *furious* All because I can't crochet

----

Husk: if I was a goat I'd uhhh umm I don't know I'd probably just be a goat... Sleep maybe?

----

Angel: I'm going to touch your ankles

Husk: What are you, some kind of Victorian pervert?

----

Charlie: *gasping and pointing to a sign* SUPER FRIED CHICKEN

Angel: Lame I want super SUPER fried chicken

----

Alastor: *watching pork roast* Gorgeous

----

Charlie: *feeding Vaggie* here comes the airplane

Alastor: ... That was embarrassing for both of you

----

Vaggie: *watching a man dressed as a cockroach walk by* The men have started morphing into their true forms

----

Cherri: Wouldn't it be funny if this place got set on fire

Charlie: No??? There would be a stampede

Cherri: Oh damn I would die

Charlie: No, you would stampede?

Cherri: I wouldn't run

Charlie: *sigh* yeah, of course not

----

Sir Pentious: If I died on a rollercoaster my last words would be "Wahoo"

----

Nifty: I need to destroy, I need to rip something to shreds with my bare hands

----

Lucifer and his Candy apple adventures a saga:

Lucifer: *holding a candy apple* oh hell yeah I'm gonna fuck this shit UP

-

Lucifer: *spits seed at Alastor*

Alastor: *doesn't notice*

Lucifer: *spits seed at Alastor*

Alastor: *looks around* ???

Lucifer: *spits seed at Alastor*

Alastor: *looks back at him* What are you doing?

Lucifer: Huh?

Lucifer: *spits seed at Alastor*

Alastor: WILL YOU STOP

Lucifer: What are you talking about????

Alastor: You're throwing something in my hair and on my shoulders and back-

Lucifer: *singing* head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes!

(my sister never figured out what I was doing 💀)

-

Lucifer: *still eating his candy apple* Why am I eating this like a chicken wing?

Charlie: Is that not how you're supposed to eat it?

Lucifer: You are absolutely right

-

Lucifer: *covered in candy apple* I'm sticky 🥺

-

Lucifer: *done with his candy apple but still chewing on the stick*

Alastor: *takes a bite of a mozzarella stick*

Lucifer: *gasps* MOZZARELLA STICKS

Alastor: *dips mozzarella sticks in marinara sauce and holds it out to Lucifer*

Lucifer: *reaches for it*

Alastor: *takes it back and glares*

Lucifer: what? oh- weirdo *eats it from his hand*

----

Lucifer: Can you bring me to the bathroom?

Alastor: I'm not carrying you

Lucifer: *rolls eyes* can you walk me to the-

Alastor: I might be able to find you a little red wagon

Lucifer: I'm going to punch you

----

Cherri: Froot loops are just-

Angel: *nods seriously* Gay Cheerios

----

Charlie: I need to find a bathroom to cry in asap

----

Vaggie: She's either drunk or high off something

Angel: I think it would be easier if I was high

----

Charlie: All I can smell is weed

Angel and Cherri: *deep inhale*

Charlie: NO

----

Alastor: Ugh there are so many people

Lucifer: I know I'm dying

----

Angel: *gasp* MY PHONE IS ON ONE PERCENT

Alastor: *completely monotone* oh no the horrors

----

Stranger: Is that your dad?

Husk: Do I look that old?

Angel: No, we're married

Stranger: Oh... you're married

Angel: *laughing* No

Husk: DO I LOOK THAT OLD????

----

Lucifer: *singing along* I can count on you like 4 3 2 you'll be there

Alastor: No I'd leave you

Lucifer: Yeah I know

Alastor: Like everyone else

Lucifer: oh

----

Nifty: *staring at crystals* Do I think they could heal me? No, I am beyond repair. Do I think they're so so so so pretty? YES!!! I NEED THEM

----

Lucifer: *overstimulated, angry, and grinning with tears in his eyes* I wish I could enjoy things

---

[malereadermaniac]

Cool about it. - Kuroo x Male Reader

I recommend looping the song while reading this <3 Tinge of angst with fluffy end word count: 1.6k m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI

Your chest hurt

You're used to the feeling, though it doesn't make it hurt any less

Walking home with Kuroo was a daily occurrence, just like his bragging about the number of confessions he had received that day

He always tries to tease you about how you "get no action (n/n)"

He doesn't know you're gay

You've tried to tell him before, but you chickened out after looking into your bestfriends eyes for a second too long

"And then there was this girl in my chem class............."

Kuroo babbles on

It hurts you

You get that funny feeling in your chest everything he talks about girls

But you never let your facade slip, and continue to pretend that you're interested and support him

By this point, it may as well be method acting

"How come you don't crush on any girls, (n/n)?"

" 'cause I don't like girls."

You didn't even think

It just slipped out

"Oh..."

You look up at the taller man with fear in your eyes

But he has a smirk on his lips

"How come you don't have the guys lining up then?" He teases

It didn't affect him whatsoever

Kuroo is a good friend to you, unconditional support no matter what

Anyone would be lucky to have a friend like him, so why did his support kill you on the inside

It gives you butterflies in the worst way possible...

"Hey! Wait for me, (n/n)!" Kuroo shouts from behind you

You tried to escape early today. Your heart couldn't really take more of his girl blabber

"Oh, sorry, Kuroo" you say with a small smile

The walk I again filled with his own talk about girls

But he pauses at one moment

"About what you said yesterday...."

"We don't have to talk about it" you interrupt quickly

You smile up at him and keep walking

Kuroo sighs but smiles back

Truth be told, Kuroo always rejected the girls that asked him out

He had put it down to the fact that a relationship would only add more stress to his life - he already gets only 4 hours of sleep because of his parents fighting

But recently, he's been thinking that he'd also rather spend time with you

And if he were I a relationship, then that would mean he couldn't

But he kept the thought to himself as he walked you home

Lying in bed late at night was something you usually did

But you looked at the alarm clock at said "3:00" in big red numbers and sighed

Those evil butterflies have returned, you'd been thinking about Kuroo again

Tears flowed down your cheeks as you breathed shallowly

You'd wished he was less of a good person

You'd wished that Kuroo would just be cruel about it and drop you after he'd found out you liked guys

But he didn't

He did the bare-minimum but it still made your heart flutter after he'd accepted you so easily

You lie on your side and continue to cry until your ducts are dry

Thinking about Kuroo until you'd fallen asleep

Just 10 minuets away, Kuroo was also awake in bed

Listening as his parents argue about idiotic things

He doesn't want a relationship like theirs

Kuroo's thoughts drift as his parents' argument fades into the background

He doesn't ever want a marriage like his parents. He wants to be friends with his lover

Get to know them really well, as well as he knows you

Then his thoughts drift to thoughts of you

Kuroo really liked you, the two of you clicked immediately when you were sat together in English

He was closer to you than with Kenma, and that's saying a lot

From admiring you as a friend, Kuroo's thoughts moved on to how cute you were

You took his teasing with a blush, and even teased him back sometimes

He then thought about how cute you looked - his type exactly but as a guy instead of a girl

He liked the nicknames you'd given each other, sort of like pet names

After a solid half an hour, Kuroo noticed his parents had gone to sleep and shut up, and that he'd been thinking about you for half an hour...

And his thoughts were definitely not very 'no homo'

A funny feeling filled his stomach as he thought about you again

Kuroo fell asleep finally, but the thought of you didn't leave his mind

School the next day was a little different

Kuroo still met you early in the morning to walk with you, and there was the normal complaining about his parents

He only did that with you, he was comfortable around you

But his blabber about girls was missing, it gave you a well needed break...

During English, you noticed him staring at you a lot

"You good, Roo?" You whisper warmly

His eyes stared into yours for a second too long

"I'm great..." he whispers with a smile, it made your heart pang

You wish you could have him as more than a friend, but it'll pass (you hope)

You'll forget about it.

Break and lunch was normal with the guys, but Kuroo was a lot more touchy with you than normal

An arm around the shoulder was normal, but asking you to feed him as he sat behind you and hugged you was strange

You'd almost had it by the end of volleyball

He kept looking over to you and smirking, it made you feel uneasy

And when one of the guys asked him about the girl in chem

Kuroo responded in a way that made you feel sick yo your stomach

"Nah, I'd rather spend time with (n/n) than her"

You were silent on your way back home, mumbling responses to Kuroo's "are you okay?"s

You felt ill from the mix of emotions

When you felt his hand on yours, you snapped

Your heart was pounding, and your face went pale

"WHAT IS UP WITH YOU TODAY??!"

Lucky you were both in front of your house and not in the middle of the street

"What do you mean, (n/n)?" Kuroo tries to reach for you and calm you down

"Don't (n/n) me, Kuroo. You've made my day hell today with all the mixed signals... I guess you figured it out and decided to tease me. You've taken it too far!"

Kuroo was worried

Worried to lose you over something he had no idea about, worried that this argument reminded him of his parents, worried him that he may lose you as more than just a friend

"Mixed signals? What do you mean, (y/n)??"

Kuroo was pleading, his face full of sadness and worry

"Don't play dumb... you figured out I like you and... and you're being a dick about it"

Kuroo's world stops

"You... like me?" Kuroo says confused, but then a smile starts to form

"Great..." tears spill from your eyes

"You didn't know and now I've told you. I'm sorry, Kuroo... you can pretend you never heard that." You say as your tears drop onto your shirt and the floor

You rush into your house, locking the door as Kuroo shouts for you to come back put and talk

A day passed by

Kuroo tried to talk to you in the morning, but you shut him down with a short "later"

Everyone noticed the two of you weren't talking

Your day was consumed by him, and vice versa

It felt like you were drowning in the emotions and thoughts of only one thing: Kuroo

By routine, you head over to the volleyball court

"(Y/n) we have to talk"

Your skin crawls and you jump from the surprise

You turn around and see a glum looking Kuroo

"Yeah, we need to talk about it at some point..."

The two of you head towards a more secluded area

Your hearts racing

Your chest is in an indescribable kind of pain

You feel so ill, you might hurl

"I'll start, I guess..." you say quietly

Kuroo stays quiet and listens

"I promise I didn't like like you since the beginning... I did see you as a friend. It's just that for the past year, I've had these feelings that I can't explain"

"I think I know the feeling you're talking about, (n/n).... that panging feeling in your chest and heart"

You feel warm from the nickname

You look into his eyes and smile

"Yeah... those fucking butterflies..."

"I'm sorry that I like you, it's a lot to put on you... plus you like girls so I know it's an impossible situation" you say with a defeated chuckle as your eyes fall to the ground

"No!"

Kuroo's shout brings your eyes back up to his

"I- I like you too! Or at least... I think so? I've always liked girls but with you... I like you more than any girl I've ever dated! When I think of the kind of relationship I want with someone, I think of the one I have with you! It's all slipped passed me until now but..."

"(Y/n)... I think I'm in love with you!"

Your heart skips a beat

Tears flood your eyes, and you and Kuroo both go in for a hug

Not for a kiss, there's still a lot more talking to do before you can both get the sweet relief of a kiss

But a tight, long hug will do for now

Those evil butterflies have been replaced with good ones

You're chest no longer hurts

[crljhnn]

Maybe It's Enough

Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Reader

Summary: Robin thinks you don't like her back, so she encourages Steve to take you out on a date. You think Robin doesn't like you back, so you agree to let Steve take you out on a date.

No use of y/n; lesbian reader

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: slight hints of / implied homophobia

[also posted on AO3]

The first time you actively realized that you were different was when you were 12.

You were lying on your bedroom floor, surrounded by your friends, looking through a magazine targeted towards young teenage girls.

You vividly remember your friends going on and on, gushing about the male actors and musicians featured in the newest edition, who were striking suggestive poses while smirking directly at the camera. You, on the other hand, only felt weak in the knees if the article displayed their girlfriends or female co-stars as well.

You grew up pretty sheltered, so it wasn't until a few nights later that you found out that women who were attracted to other women existed.

You were sneaking down the stairs to get yourself a bottle of water when you overheard your mother gossiping on the phone about a church friend's daughter, who was spending an awful amount of time with that new girl, Susan. Apparently, there have been rumors that she has been bringing shame upon her family and disgracing the church for quite a while.

Hearing the disgust in your mother's voice awoke a discomfort within you about your own emotions. You found yourself going back and forth between entertaining your suspicions and reassuring yourself that you simply hadn't met the right guy yet (that's at least what your older sister told you when you confided in her).

This maybe, maybe not spiel ended when you met Robin in your shared math class during your freshman year. She was somewhat angsty and awkward, and you were instantly in love. You didn't manage to muster up the courage to speak to her during that school year, though.

In your sophomore year, you were almost sure that Robin was gay. You caught her looking dreamingly at a little too many female classmates, a little too often. Also, from what you heard, she never had a boyfriend or openly expressed interest in any of the boys.

At the end of junior year, you were almost certain that Robin was into you. The staring was now reserved solely for you, and she constantly sat close, but never directly next to you. She also always started that cute nervous ramble when you tried to talk to her, and then always found a way to prematurely end the conversation.

"Sorry, I think I left my water bottle in the cafeteria. Bye!"

When you found out that Robin started working at Scoobs, you were tempted to go and visit her; this way, she was forced to talk to you. You nearly chickened out in the parking lot and had to hype yourself up for nearly half an hour just to be met with Steve "the Hair" Harrington when you got up to the counter.

You took that as a sign not to show up at Scoops again. Plus, now that you thought about it, what were you even supposed to talk about? The ice cream flavor?

That's why you were thankful when she started at the local video store. Movies were definitely something you could talk about for hours.

It wasn't as easy as you thought, though. Every time you came by, she was either busy organizing a section on the complete opposite end of the store or she was in the back. When you tried talking to her, she would always redirect you to Steve.

"I'm kind of busy right now, but I'm sure Steve can help you with whatever movie you are looking for. He is right over there."

Always rushed and always without looking at you.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe Robin actually despised you, and you completely misinterpreted her behavior. She probably thought you were some kind of stalker, keen on disrupting her at work.

---

"I swear she likes you, dingus! She is here all the time." Robin has been trying to convince Steve that you were head over heels in love with him for the last 10 minutes.

He was exasperated, standing in his typical mom stance with one hand on his hip. "She does not! Family Video is like the only video store anywhere close; that's why she comes here a lot."

"Well, she came to Scoops as well, when we were still working there!"

Steve probably doesn't even remember you showing up at their old job, but Robin does. She remembers how pretty you looked, how your outfit complimented your figure, and how your hair perfectly framed your face. She remembers it being a lot more nerve-racking than seeing you in school. This was a new environment, a whole new situation. She couldn't look at you from a desk behind you, hiding behind a book, if you decided to glance in her direction.

Before she was able to properly think about it, she had already headed to the back, the door slamming shut behind her.

"Wow, now I can't deny it anymore! It's not like half of Hawkins has been there at least once, and by your logic, she could be into you as well."

Robin wishes, with every cell in her body, that even the slightest glimmer of truth could lie in this statement. But it's not true. It couldn't be. And she has to remind herself of that. That way, it won't hurt as much when you end up with Steve or some other boy.

"Then why does she only ever talk to you, huh?"

"Because you run to the back as soon as she gets anywhere close to you!"

"And I'm doing both of you a favor. She comes here to talk to you and then gets too nervous to actually pull through with it. That's why she comes up to me."

"I think you are overthinking it."

And Robin definitely is, but at this point, she had already talked herself way too far into it.

"Trust me. I'm a girl. I should know stuff like that better than you."

"Yeah, 'cause you know so well what it's like to crush on a guy?"

"No, but I know what it's like to be a girl with a crush. Just ask her out."

Please don't.

"You sure?"

No

"Yes."

So that's exactly what Steve did.

---

The next time you visit the store, he makes sure to put on his especially charming smile, being right by your side as soon as you enter. He goes the full nine yards. Compliments your eyes, your outfit, carries the movies you picked out to the counter. After he finishes the process of checking them out, he is ready to make his final move. With whatever he has left of the famous Harrington charm, he asks you if you'd like to go out with him this weekend.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm really busy, you know, with school and everything. Sorry."

Rejection.

Steve only takes a second to recover. Even though Robin was sure of your attraction to him, he was still kind of expecting this. Regardless, Steve feels the urge to explain himself.

"No, it's totally fine. Really! I honestly wouldn't even have assumed that you were into me, but Robin was really insistent, so I thought I'd try my luck. No hard feelings."

"Robin told you to ask me out?"

"Yeah, why?"

That was the final nail in the coffin. Of course, she didn't like you. Why else would she try to set you up with her best friend? All the "signs" you saw were probably spun up by your imagination, caused by wishful thinking. Your own feelings must have clouded your judgment. You're embarrassed and sad. Maybe it is stupid and naive to expect to find a girl in a small town like Hawkins who is not only your type and assumably gay but also likes you back.

Maybe you should go on a date with Steve.

He really seemed like a changed man. He was unarguably attractive, even you could admit that. He was kind and, most importantly, interested in you. Maybe that's enough.

Maybe you were also a tiny bit driven by selfishness. Maybe you wanted to make yourself feel a bit better about receiving the confirmation that the girl you had been pining for for years simply wasn't into you.

For a moment, you felt bad for Steve. It would be unfair to lead him on like that, but let's be honest. From what you heard, that guy goes on three dates a week. How likely is it that he would go into this date with the expectation of finding his one true love?

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant. I would actually really like to go out with you. I really am busy, you know, with all the exams coming up."

Lies, there was nothing to study for the next two weeks. The only plan you currently had for this weekend was to cry over Robin.

"But I am free the weekend after, if that works for you?" You played that off nicely, right?

It seemed like you did because Steve's face lit up.

„Great, if you give me your number, I could just call you to talk about the specifics.“

„Yeah sure.“

While you focus on writing down your number on the piece of paper Steve slips you, he turns around to give Robin a thumbs up. Even though she tried to look just as happy as he did, anyone paying even a little attention could have seen that she was not okay. Her face scrunched up in a painful smile. Fortunately for her, Steve was way too distracted by the euphoric feeling of scoring a date to recognize his best friend's torment.

---

"You know, I was skeptical at first because I never felt that romantic vibe with her. She never seemed interested in me in that way. But now I'm so happy I asked her out. Like, she's so effortlessly beautiful and funny, and she is also really smart, you know?"

Yeah, Robin knows. She knew all this about you better than anyone else. Steve didn't even know yet how beautiful, funny, and smart you really are. But Robin had no doubt he was going to find out soon.

And she was going to die.

Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but it will definitely feel like it.

"I could even imagine her being, like, the one, you know. I think what I've been doing wrong is going on dates with women I don't even know or with women who only know me from my "King Steve" days. They all have these weird expectations about how I'm supposed to act. But I got to know her over the last few months. And I know I'm actually able to hold a conversation with her, one that's not about high school."

Robin feels like she is going to throw up. Steve acted like he always did when he was interested in a girl: idealizing her and already imagining their house with a white-picked fence and their six little nuggets. She knew she would get over it eventually, even if you actually ended up together, but your first real crush will always hold a special place, especially your first lesbian crush. And Steve just couldn't shut up.

"Do you have an idea where I could take her? We were talking on the phone last night, and she told me to just come up with something. I really don't want to mess this up right at the beginning by picking the wrong thing."

Robin never wished to be an attractive teenage boy as much as she did at that moment. She wanted late-night phone calls with you, and she wanted the trouble of not knowing where to take you on a date.

She had also thought about going on a date with you for years, so yes, she definitely had an idea.

For a second, she considered not telling Steve to be selfish and not letting him live out the fantasy that had been keeping her company for the last two years. This urge, however, was overpowered by her need to make you happy. That's what she wanted most—for you to be happy and have a good time. So she told Steve all about your favorite music genre and to watch out for any small bands giving concerts somewhat close.

---

Meanwhile, you were still grieving this whole Robin disaster. How the hell did your regular visits to the video store, intending to talk to Robin, score you a date with her best friend?

Yet, you found yourself genuinely looking forward to your plans with Steve. His idea of driving a few towns over where a small band you never heard of, though the flyer suggested that the music would fit your taste to a T, was giving one of their first concerts, which was actually the most fun date you could imagine.

Even if you didn't like him romantically, you would still have a good time. And you thought it was admirable that he would plan something that fits your taste so well. Now that you think about it, you don't remember ever discussing your music taste or your fable for small underground bands with him. You don't know how he knew; perhaps you mentioned it casually, or maybe it was just a lucky guess.

---

Steve turns up at 5 p.m. sharp. He is standing in front of your door, with a bouquet of flowers, in an outfit you know he will stand out in at the rather shady bar the band is playing at.

The one-hour-long drive ends up being surprisingly entertaining, and for the first time in your life, you kind of wish to be straight. You often wished to not be gay, to "be normal," or to fit in, but never before did you specifically wish to be into men. But right now, you do. Because Steve is kind and charming and attentive and funny while also being insanely attractive, and you just wish you could fall for him. Because you know that would be the easiest thing to do if you were into men.

But you are not.

And now you are driving back home, and you are sitting next to Steve in his car while he rants about how positively surprised he was by the band and how they are definitely one of his favorites now, and you just feel bad. He clearly had a good time, and he hinted at his interest in you and a second date multiple times over the evening. You just know that you have to come clean.

After your sister's reaction, you never considered coming out to anyone in Hawkins again, well, except Robin, but definitely not to "King Steve." You honestly don't even know why, but somehow you really want to tell him. Perhaps you're driven by guilt; after all, you had a great time, and the thought of rejecting him with a shitty excuse feels wrong. Moreover, continuing to lead him on would be worse.

Steve turned out to be a decent guy, right? You dearly hope that you are not making a horrible, irreversible mistake by coming out to him.

"I really had a good time tonight."

"Yeah? Me too. I was thinking we could repeat this, whe-"

His enthusiasm about going out with you again made you feel sick.

"Steve"

His face falls when he detects your tone, realizing you are about to reject him.

"Oh."

"Look, I really had a great time, and you are a great guy, but I'm actually not into boys. I'm sorry."

That's it. You put your cards on the table, full vulnerability. There is no way to misunderstand what you just said.

Or so you thought.

"I understand. You want a man, someone who will be able to take care of you. Not some boy who didn't even get into college. I know my future isn't looking the best right now. I'm probably gonna be stuck working in a video store for minimum wage till I retire. But-"

"No, Steve, what? What I was trying to say was that I'm a lesbian. I like girls. I'm sorry for leading you on."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"But why did you agree to go on a date with me then?"

Did you really want to tell him the whole truth? If you told him about your crush, you have no doubt that it would reach the girl of your affection herself, and you really didn't need that. However, being so open about something you hardly ever told anyone, and him not reacting outright badly, kind of made you want to tell him about your feelings for his coworker as well. You already told him your biggest secret; what's one more?

"When you said that Robin told you to ask me out... man, this is so embarrassing to say out loud. I just kind of like her, like really like her, and her encouraging you to date me kind of made it clear that she does not feel the same. And I just thought, I don't know, the rejection kind of stung, and feeling wanted, especially by someone like you, felt kind of nice. I didn't think it would go as well as it did, considering your dating history. Sorry, was that mean? You know what I'm trying to say. But you are great, and now I feel shitty, not just for being indirectly rejected but also for using you as a distraction and ego push. I'm sorry."

You're too scared to look at Steve. Completely focused on looking anywhere but him while your brain keeps listing reasons why you are a horrible person.

At the same time, Steve's thoughts are running a thousand miles per hour. He's disappointed, sure. He likes you and, until a second ago, really hoped to build a relationship with you. Now, however, more present was the goal of setting you up with Robin. This was perfect. All her rants about never finding another gay person in Hawkins he had to listen to, and now he not only found someone who was gay, he found someone who already liked his best friend. Or you found him.

Now the question emerged: What's the best way to go about this? His first instinct was to tell you to just ask Robin out, but by doing that, he was basically outing her, so maybe not the best idea. Additionally, he didn't even know if Robin liked you back. That's it. Before he does anything, he should try to find out if your feelings are reciprocated. Or if Robin is at least interested in getting to know you romantically.

With this plan in mind, he first assures you that he has absolutely no problem with gay people, even if he is a bit clumsy at finding the right words to express it, and then drops you off at home. He is about to have a long night, planning to figure out the best way to unsuspiciously find out if Robin likes you back and how to hype you up in case she isn't sure yet.

---

The next day, he shows up at Family Video, ready to put his plan into action. Robin, however, is dreading to come in today. She doesn't know how she will last a whole day with Steve telling her how perfect the two of you are for each other and how well your date went. She just knows you two had a great time. If she hadn't been certain already, she would have reached the conclusion at the very latest when Steve basically came skipping into work, smiling with giddy excitement.

For the first three hours, Robin is surprisingly successful at dodging Steve's attempts at conversation. However, her luck runs out when he decides that both of them will have an early lunch break since it is a pretty slow day and there is really nothing to do. She can hardly say no to that, at least not without awaking suspicions. So after Steve does a quick food run and picks up some baked goods from a nearby bakery, the two sit down next to each other, each with a fresh pastry in front of them. That's when Steve sees his chance at being your hypeman.

"... and you know, I feel that's something not a lot of people do, like it's rare you find someone like that. And she is also just a great listener, like she does not only listen; she actually hears what you say. You know what I mean?"

This is hell. No, Robin bets hell is a whole lot nicer than this. It has to be. Nothing could be as awful as your best friend going on a ten-minute monologue about how perfect your crush is and what a great time they had on their date.

"So what do you think? You've known her for a while; do you think she's cool?"

"Yeah, she is. I'm glad your date went so well, and I think it's great you found someone. I'm really happy for you. So when are you going out again?"

Wait.

That is not what Steve was trying to achieve. Stop! Abort mission!

"Oh, we are not going out again."

Robin nearly chokes on her croissant. Eyes wide, coughing, she nearly spits out what she didn't manage to force down her throat.

"What do you mean you won't go out again? You literally just went on a ten-minute rant about how great she is!"

"Yeah, she is. But she's not interested in me. She already likes someone else."

Robin doesn't understand how her best friend can be so nonchalant about this. He seems absolutely unfazed, talking to her as if the reality that the most perfect girl does not like him back is the most basic fact, that he has absolutely no negative feelings about. Did he recently become extremely good at acting? There is no way he was able to hide his feelings so well.

"Steve, I am so sorr-"

"No, it's fine. Really, I'm okay. I actually wouldn't be affected at all if she started seeing this person. Like, I'd be really happy for both of them. No negative feelings on my part at all."

Okay, now he was acting weird. And why would you say yes to the date in the first place, if you already had your eyes on someone else? So she asks him about it.

"She believes her crush doesn't like her back, so she thought there was no harm in going on a date with me. But she is definitely not interested in me in the slightest!"

"Well, that's bullshit. Who wouldn't like her? I mean, she is everything! She is smart, pretty, compassionate, and talented. She is the full package. There is no way anyone would say no to her. I thin-"

Steve stops comprehending what she says after that, too occupied with his own thoughts. How could he have been so oblivious? The hiding in the back? The constant redirection to him? Her inability to speak to you? She wasn't giving you the opportunity to talk to him; she was too nervous to talk to you herself. Robin had a big fat crush on you, and it was so obvious now that he was paying attention.

Steve's ecstatic. Now all that was left to do was set you two up.

---

This was easier said than done. For a few days, he tried and tried to come up with a way to get you two together without telling either one about the other's feelings. However, this was nearly impossible with how much you two insisted on avoiding each other, each dealing with their own heartbreak, still believing their feelings weren't reciprocated.

At some point, the frustration became too overwhelming, and he reached the conclusion that he was going to have to out at least one of you to the other. His first thought is to just put you two in a room, drop the bomb, and then leave you to it. Steve decides against this, fearing you would both be too awkward to move forward from this.

He contemplates who could handle the situation better and decides that telling you is probably the right choice. Happy with the prospect of finally freeing himself of this burden, he gives you a quick call, informing you of his need for a conversation, and then makes his way over.

---

"Why did you have to tell me? Why couldn't you tell Robin? Now I have to make the move, and I'm probably gonna embarrass myself soo bad!"

After getting over the shock that Robin reciprocated your feelings (at least to Steve's suspicions), you relatively quickly became frantic, mad that he put you in a position where you had to be the one to act. Why couldn't he tell her? After all, is she his best friend? And he knows that you like her, for sure. Even though he swears to be sure about Robin's feelings as well, he never actually heard her admit it out loud.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I have the perfect, foolproof plan."

"Ew, don't say that word."

"What? Plan?"

"Shut up. So what's your great plan?"

The relationship between you and Harrington has gotten a lot more casual and familiar since your "date." You never expected it, but you are really glad to call him a close friend now.

"Okay, listen up. You're going to come to Family Video tomorrow, bring some takeout, or better prepare some food yourself, and tell Robin you and I made plans to have lunch together."

"Wait, I thought you had the day off tomorrow?"

"I have. So you are going to be all disappointed, having prepared all that food for nothing. So you will offer to share with her instead. It's the only logical thing. You wouldn't want to waste the food."

"That's the worst plan I've ever heard. That's so lame, Steven!"

"Don't call me Steven. And it's brilliant! You will get a nice romantic date without making it look like you're doing too much."

You're still not convinced, but you don't have a better idea, so you agree.

---

"Hi, Robin!"

"Oh, hi, hello, what's up?" What the fuck? Get yourself together. "What are you doing here?" Robin has been paranoid since Steve voiced his suspicion about her feelings for you. If completely oblivious Steve could see it, could you too?

"Is Steve here? We have plans for lunch." You demonstratively hold up the two lunch boxes you brought.

You spent hours yesterday racking your brain about what to prepare. What would Robin enjoy the most? What can you cook without messing it up, especially if you're this nervous? All while you also considered what you could eat without embarrassing yourself. You don't want to sit there and have half the contents of your burger fall all over your hands. Or get food stuck between your teeth without noticing. And what could you transport over without ruining it in the process? Would the food stay warm for long enough? Or should you pick a meal that is served at room temperature? In the end, you called Steve and cooked the first thing he suggested, following his advice not to overthink it.

"Steve is not scheduled for today."

"Oh."

"That's so typical, this dingus. I'll call him; give me a minute."

"It's fine. Would you maybe like to share? My lunch break will be over till he gets here. I mean, I already cooked and brought the food. If you don't have any other plans, we could share it. Unless you don't want to. That would be fine as well. I don't-"

"I want to."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, nice. Let me just set up."

"Oh, of course, I'll show you the break room. Follow me."

The awkwardness dies quickly. Talking to Robin with the knowledge that she likes you back makes you a lot more relaxed around her. There aren't any weird periods of silence, and you feel a warmth and connection you never felt before.

With that, you finally work up the courage to ask her out. After years of pining, you are really about to do it.

"I wanted to ask you something, and it is totally okay if you say no. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. If you don't want to, we can just forget that I ever asked, so-"

"Just spit it out. Rambling is my thing, and you are not allowed to steal that." Robin tries to lighten the mood and take away from your clear nervousness.

"Would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date."

"But Steve said- WAIT! I am the one you like?"

"Yeah."

"Damn."

"So?"

"I would really like to go out with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

[absolutebl]

Mirror mirror on the wall,who are the top 5 greenest flags of them all?

ooof, this is more @heretherebedork than my cuppa but lemme see

you didn't specify seme or country so that makes my life easier, because bettcha can't guess who's gonna top this list

My Top 5 Greenest Flags in BL!

Noh from Love Sick

Look, he's just like the Nicest Little Dude. He's loyal and kind and good to his friends, and tries really hard to communicate the truth and be honest about his feelings even when he's a crazy hormonal teen and doesn't understand his own or anyone else's. Noh is not just any green flag he's a teenager green flag. That never happens.

Xun An from My Tooth You Love

He is so damn sweet and thoughtful and he tries so hard to protect everyone (except himself). But it's that moment in the car where he finally understands the extent of his baby's psychological issues that we all got to meet The Real Deal. Because what does he do? OMG he actually recommends Bai Lang seek professional help, from an actual therapist! Like that's THE MOMENT. The biggest green flag balls we have ever seen in a BL. Ever. I will brook no discussion on this matter.

Plustor from Destiny Seeker

Bite me. I know you haven't seen this. How do I know? No one has seen this show. Such a shame. Plustor is 1/2 of the 3rd-string couple, the crumbs, the freshmen babies. Most of the drama is with the 2 older pairs, but these boys are GREAT. One of them is out gay (with his shit together) who hooks up with hot jock CHAOS bisexual and we all think we know where it's going (because when does the chaos bi have his shit together and not act like a predator slut? - yes I AM looking at you, Mame). Except, Plustor fucking TOTALLY has his shit together! He researches gay sex and how to do it right, he asks his new bf questions, he communicates his self-confidence issues over never having been with a dude before. He talks. They talk. As a result these kids spend most of the show annoyed by the unnecessary drama of their piers who do NOT have their shit together and being the best bfs ever.

Mork from My Ride

What, you surprised? Mork goes through an entire identity crisis and manages NOT to drag anyone else into his drama. He keeps his life together, takes care of his family, asks his gay uncles for advice, realizes he is in love. He does not force that love on his beloved. Instead he stays in the side lines, tries to be a good supportive friend to the object of his affection, and a consistently chooses the path of decent human being. He's careful and kind and communicative when he eventually does make his move. Stand up dude! Adorable dimple! We likie.

Yak from Wandee Goodday

I feel like I have to include someone from this year because Green Flag Semes are such a 2024 trend. For me, it just had to be Yak. He such a great communicator and he just defines the GGG (good, giving, game) attitude that one wants in a sexual partner. I gotta say, it's actually not uncommon to have better sexual communication with a play partner or a fuck buddy than within a relationship. It was nice to see that portrayed on our screens in a BL. Whatcha know, mature characters being mature and shizz. Insanity.

I have to say, if you had given me 6, Alan from Pit Babe would have also made this list.

Others I Thought About

Seryou (Seven Days)

Kakeru (I Cannot Reach You)

Ida (My Love Mix Up)

Kyosuke (Sugar Dog Life) - does cluelessness count?

Kazuma (Tokyo in April)

Both in Some More

Qizhang (About Youth)

Sato (See You After Quarantine?)

Tatch (2 Moons 3)

X (21 Days Theory)

King (Bed Friend)

Khun (Brothers)

Karan (Cherry Magic)

Fueangnakhon (City of Stars)

Gun (Tossera)

Ram (La Cuisine)

Ae (Love By Chance) - I'm WELL AWARE I'm picking a Mame character

God (Monster Next Door)

Li (Moonlight Chicken)

Sun (Sunset X Vibes)

Latte (Knock Knock Boys)

Moo (Only Boo!)

Rome (Puppy Honey)

Alan (Pit Babe)

Touch, Sky (Secret Crush on You)

Na (Tonhon Chonlatee)

Tan (We Are)

San (You're My Sky)

Oh should I define what green flag means to me?

respectful: no dubious consent, takes no for an answer and stops, alcohol is not an excuse,

honest: depicted demonstrating good communication - verbal, emotional, physical

safe: practices safe sex

decent: no violations (emotional, ethical, moral, sexual, cultural, or ya know legal) like breaking into his fucking hotel room

dependable: I'd be fine if my nibbling were trapped in an elevator with him

kind: forthright and not inclined to be manipulative

(source)

[louis--wifey]

WTTT Incorrect Quotes but it's just things that people in my real life have said

It's so long I'm so sorry 😭😭

~~~~

Illinois, cleaning his shoes: Last time I wore these shoes I got apple butter on them..

Ohio: I remember that song. *singing* Apple butter shoes, boots with the fur.

~~~~

Florida: *yapping*

New York, who forgot his phone in the car: I'm going to get my phone so I can ignore you for a minute.

~~~~

South Carolina: Georgia and I are dressing at Waylon and Willie for Halloween!

North Carolina: I could be Johnny Cash and just lay there in a coffin... *To the tune of Hurt by NIN covered by Johnny Cash. Johnny Cash impression.* I hurt myself, today

~~~~

Washington, helping Nevada with his math homework: Let's break it down

Nevada: I'll break it down *gets off of his chair and starts break dancing*

~~~~

Kansas: That sounded like a car commercial...

Oklahoma: I can write car commercials all day long.

~~~~

Maryland: Nothing says hot like harmonica!

(I have no context for this btw. My professor said it a couple weeks ago and I tuned into the conversation as soon as he said it and I have no idea what was happening before hand)

~~~~

Michigan: Hey, Ohi-

Ohio: And all of the sudden I heard an irritating, grading voice. And it was yours.

~~~~

Illinois: My grandma has chickens, and she's obsessed with chickens.

Minnesota: Tell your grandma to call me.

~~~~

Arizona: If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go lock myself in the cooler.

Utah: Bang on the door if you need anything.

~~~~

Florida: *lands on go to jail in Monopoly* Noooo in jail again!?

Gov: That's something we need to talk about. If you keep driving so fast you're going to end up in jail.

Florida: Oh I thought this was gonna be about me puking in the county jail parking lot...

~~~~

California: What three characters have omniscience?

Florida: Your mom

California: What four characters have omniscience?

~~~~

Colorado: Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Wisconsin: FOOD TRUCK!

~~~~

Missouri: Guess what my dream car is

Indiana: A Lamborghini

Missouri: No

Indiana: A Kia Soul

~~~~

Washington: New York with the leadership skills!

New York: I just know where I'm going -_-

Washington: Say "I'm New York and I'm a baddie"

~~~~

Texas: Can you count change? *Looks down at the change California gave him* You can!

California: I'm great at counting change, I used to do it for fun when I was little. Because I didn't have any friends.

Texas: Pfff-

~~~~

Oregon: A Monster a day keeps the straightness away.

~~~~

Nevada: You look like a clown.

California: Am I a pretty clown?

~~~~

Gov, to Louisiana and Florida: I would stop whining so much if you two stopped drinking alcohol.

California: Sometimes your whining makes me wish I liked alcohol.

~~~~

Florida: Gov, I'm helping!

Alabama: By... Making it harder?

Florida: Yep!

~~~~

Florida, singing: Everybody was kung fu fighting

New Jersey, to the tune Kung Fu Fighting: Everybody should shut the fuck up

~~~~

Washington's cat: *killing a bug.*

Washington: "Rip in half! Rip in half! Rip in half! When I say "beat" you say "that ass" Beat! *Long pause, points to Oregkn* Fill in for him!

Oregon: *slowly turns around in his spinny chair*

Washington: Aw, come on! You can say donkey instead. Beat!

*silence*

Oregon: No.

Washington: Fine. *dances out of the room* K-I-C-K-Y-O-A-S-S Oh yeeessss!

~~~~

Maryland: *playing a cheap toy recorder on a make-shift stage*

Massachusetts: MORE COWBELL!!

~~~~

California: I just love feeling like a menopausal woman.

~~~~

Oregon, sick: The crystal ladies said if you got sick after the eclipse, it's your ancestors banishing evil from your body.

Idaho: They're praying the gay away

~~~~

South Dakota: Wish me luck in war

Minnesota: You're not going to war, you're asking for a box

South Dakota: It's the same thing, damn it!

~~~~

Alaska: Penny for your thoughts?

Hawaii: I don't have any pennies.

Alaska: I don't have any thoughts!

~~~~

Louisiana: We can bring the baguette to and beat California with it...

Florida: Or Utah.

~~~~

Gov: If you could make any crime legal what would it be?

New York, Florida and Louisiana at the same time: Arson!

Gov: *mortified expression*

~~~~

Iowa, about chicken: Are you a thigh person?

Nebraska: I like legs... ThEy TrIeD tO pUt Me On ThE cOvEr Of VoGuE bUt My LeGs WeRe ToO LONGGGGG!

~~~~

Colorado: I need a stick!

California: I need a boyfriend, your point?

Colorado: ...Not that kind of stick.

~~~~

Oregkn: In high school my favorite past time was kissing boys.

Washington: *turns to California* Is that your favorite past time too?

~~~~

Texas: Why aren't bananas called yellows?

Florida: Because then Gwen Stefani couldn't use it in her song.

Louisiana: She'd just have to spell it different: This shit is yellows! Y-E-L-L-O-W-S!

~~~~

California: He's gay and he committed suicide.

New York: He's you... Don't commit suicide, please.

California: I WILL BECOME A MUSICAL!

New York: NOOO DO NOT BECOME A MUSICAL!

~~~~

North Carolina: I seriously hate you sometimes.

South Carolina Aww I love you too!

~~~~

Vermont: You wanna know the biggest dingus I know?

New Hampshire: You?

~~~~

Wisconsin: You're a yeasty beer

Illinois: You're a zesty beer

Wisconsin: Yeah well, your light in the loafers!

~~~~

Arizona: *says something dumb*

Nevada: Shaking my as- shaking my head.

~~~~

New York: *takes a drink of my pumpkin spice latte* Oh, that's delightful!

California: Look who's a white woman now?!

[later]

California: You basic white woman!

New York: I don't wanna talk about it...

~~~~

Louisiana: *throws a packet of French dressing at Florida, in a French accent* French

Florida: AAAAA IT'S FRENCH!!!

~~~~

Florida: Oh, I thought you were committing arson without me

Gov: If I ever decide to commit arson, I'll call you

~~~~

Florida: Ah yes, my favorite crime, trespassing. I'm joking... it's not my favorite crime

Georgia: What is your favorite crime?

Florida: Arson!

~~~~

Arizona: Finally a good song

New Mexico: Then why do you keep playing bad ones?

~~~~

*Either someone brought up Pedro Pascal*

California: He's the daddiest of daddies.

Texas: Don't say that ever again.

~~~~

Maine: There are more animals on the planet than humans and just think you could have been born a crab, but you were born a human"

Maryland: I wish I was a crab, then I could be crabby all day long

Maine: I'm all ready crabby all day long

Maryland: Yeah but if you were a crab you could crawl around and pinch people *walks away sideways with hands held like pinchers*

~~~~

Alaska: Why are you getting cologne

Hawaii: I want to smell like a masc lesbian.

~~~~

California: I've had morning sickness for the past five years

Florida: Are you pregnant-

~~~~

Washington: You can choose what you eat, whether it's vegetables, meat, or ass.

Nevada: *dying laughing* That threw me off guard.

~~~~

New York: PA, your turn to tell a word that means something bad

Pennsylvania: Would you consider emotional manipulation bad?

New Jersey: Yeah, I mean no, it turns me on

Pennsylvania: I guess my mom will really turn you on then

~~~~

Tennessee: Don't panic but there's a spider on your-

Kentucky: *Proceeds to scream bloody murder*

~~~~

Virginia: *sniffs bread.*

Virginia: "It's sourdough."

~~~~

New York: You know I'm insane, right?

California: I'm aware, but I don't care. It's one of your redeeming qualities.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 7129

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

12. Pôt de crème

Mary

That day really winds up feeling like the epitome of a terrible horrible, no good, very bad fucking day for Mary, and it starts early. Leaving the apartment for work after the massage cocktease from Hell is odd.

She’s left feeling happy to have helped, but also hurt, disappointed, and mad at herself, of all things. That was the perfect opportunity for her to make a move and finally force those two to tell her that they’re not interested! (Though a small and pitifully thirsty part of her brain still exists in the fantasy land where they’d take her up on it.) But she’d chickened out and kept it strictly platonic. Ugh. Lame.

She manages not to think about it for a while, as she gets into the rhythm of her day at the bakery. She still can’t shake the cloud of anxiety and irritability looming over her, though. The good old days of any lasting effects from Bucky’s drops are gone, and instead she’s left to slowly percolate a bad mood as she clocks in and figures out the best order to get her projects done for that day.

Dennis is the manager on schedule, which sucks because Mary’s never liked him, but he’s in the office for the most part, since he’s a stuck up do-nothing, and she's able to pretend that she’s alone. 

No matter though. She can’t focus on anything, feels overly emotional, and almost breaks out in tears when she drops a tray of cupcakes on the floor. She manages to hold it together as she cleans up the mess, and moves onto the next task. Her list for the day now feels miserably long, and she doesn’t even enjoy decorating the base-iced babycakes that are waiting for her from yesterday. She fucks up the writing on one of them and loses her shit over something that is not worth losing her shit over. That’s the stupid thing that finally pushes her to tears, and she tosses her piping bag angrily onto the counter, what the fucking herself and feeling like she’s going crazy. 

Like baseball, there’s no crying in kitchens: That’s what the walk-in’s for. So, she hides back by the dairy products until she’s able to pull herself together. She comes out shivering, not crying, and in a horrible mood. 

Buttercream is next, so she gets the sugar boiling and the egg whites whisking in the forty quart. She tries to talk herself up in her head as she goes through motions of streaming in the sugar and then scaling the butter she’ll add to it once it’s whipped cool. “You’re not bad at your job,” she mumbles to herself, trying to push the threat of tears away with positive thoughts. “You’re not.”

Jesus fuck, why is she feeling like this? Nothing that bad has even happened! So she dropped some fucking cupcakes, so what? It happens. She checks her phone to see if she’s about to get her period, but that’s not it. Her focus is shit, so of course she eventually goes back to thinking about Bucky and Steve. 

Today is Bucky’s day off. Mary thinks about him being in pain that morning and how his movements had been crippled by pain. … She thinks about his broad, muscled back under her hands, his warm skin, the moans of relief he’d given whenever she worked out a knot. Poor guy. Even though she hates to think of enduring it again, she has to admit to herself that she does care about Bucky, and she would endure it if he needed her help. Hell, if it’s something that’ll help him in the long run, she’ll have to do at least one or two more massage sessions to teach Steve the ropes so he can help his husband in her absence.

Bucky doesn’t want her to do it. She pouts about that, but scolds herself as soon as she realizes she’s doing so. Don’t be lame over guys who don’t want you. So Bucky and Steve just want to be gay together in peace, so what? Why is she losing her shit over the tiniest rejection like this?!

She ruminates on it while she’s at the stove stirring a massive batch of pôt de crème custard, and it occurs to her that the part she’s actually most upset about isn’t their platonic feelings for her: it’s her own lack of bravery and straightforwardness with Bucky and Steve, and how she’s become such a pathetic wallflower over the past few months. 

Maybe if she’d flat out asked about a romantic relationship from the beginning, she could’ve gotten the rejection out of the way and been putting herself out there to meet someone new by now. She might’ve met a Dom at one of the Center’s socials, or at least could’ve been swiping the apps and going on dates. Getting laid.

But instead suddenly she’s turned into a shy girl (obnoxious). She hasn’t been a virgin since college, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t sleeping with whoever she could get her hands on, back before Steve and Bucky 'adopted' her. She’d been so good at it back then, saying what she meant and going for what she wanted, dragging at least one new guy back to her place to fuck every other week. Why can’t she just do something now? 

Frowning, she decides that she will do something over it. The ideal would be to move back to her own place, but she can’t with the custody order in place and Dr. Linda on Bucky’s side. Gritting her teeth, she figures she’ll do the next best thing: she’ll start getting laid again. She’ll go out and meet people. She’ll go out straight after work each day. Unless he wants to physically tie her up and keep her prisoner in the apartment, Bucky can’t stop it. 

She’s just got to work up the nerve to break his rules like that. Nerve which, in her current mood, seems quite out of reach. She sighs and reaches up to grab the Grand Marnier off the shelf for the pôt de crème. All she feels like doing now is going back to the apartment and crawling into bed, to be honest. She wonders if this is what actual clinical depression feels like. Maybe. Maybe worse. Sarcastically, she thinks that a shot or three of alcohol would certainly help, and then she pauses with her hand on the bottle as she’s about to pour it into the custard. Oh. 

She’s not drinking anymore. 

Fuck. That’s it. She’s hardly ever had sex sober in her life. Barely ever even flirted without some liquid courage in her system. That’s what’s changed. She always used pick up guys in bars, or at other places where everybody had a drink in their hand. And at home at her apartment, whenever the creeping buildup of anxiety and irritability would get to be too much, a couple vodka sprites were what made her feel better. She pauses in her stirring. Thinking about it now is making her almost physically yearn for a stiff one. 

She looks down at the bottle in her hand, shame coloring her cheeks as soon as she has the thought. Even at her worst, Mary never drank on the job. She grimaces at herself and hurriedly sets the bottle back on the shelf before temptation can win out, then turns back to the stove.

“Fuck!” she hisses, scrambling to turn off the burner when she’s met with the sight of lumpy pôt de crème. She whisks it frantically to try and stop it, but it’s too far gone: The eggs in the custard have curdled. She throws her head back and groans. “God dammit!”

She makes a last ditch effort to save it by dumping the lumpy custard into a Cambro, tossing in a few ice cubes, and furiously burr-mixing it with the immersion blender, but it’s no use. She’s irrevocably ruined a massive batch of dessert (with the expensive liqueur already added in it, to boot) because she wasn’t paying attention. Growling, she dumps it all in the trash bin before Dennis can happen to walk by and see, then stomps back to the fridge to grab ingredients to rescale the recipe.

She lines up sheet trays of paper dessert cups on her workstation table for decanting … and takes one cup with her over to the stove while she stands there and cooks the second batch of pôt de crème.

It’s when she’s stirring and pouring that second measure of liqueur into the pot that she gives into impulse and pours a shot’s worth of the stuff into the extra paper baking cup—that she now realizes she brought over for this express purpose in the first place. She gives the empty kitchen a furtive glance, and tosses it back. “Ugh.” 

Orange flavored liqueur? Really Mary?

She hears the rebuke in Bucky’s voice in her head, which is annoying and drives her to repeat the action once she’s drank the first. She tosses back a second. Gross gross gross. She checks the label on the bottle: 40% ABV. Good. She puts the bottle back on the shelf, pissed about feeling so uncomfortable in her skin that she stubbornly refuses to feel guilty over her actions, and finishes cooking the custard to a smooth nappé this time. Perfect. 

She pours the custard over the white chocolate and lets it melt. She burr mixes it, strains it. Ready to go.

Later maybe she’ll feel bad about it, but as she grabs the sauce gun and begins the tedious process of dispensing the pôt de crème into the cups, that warm, pleasant feeling of a buzz starts to creep up on her, and she finds herself in a better mood before long. Things seem brighter, and she finally feels like she can breathe. She’s able to think about Bucky and Steve without feeling like a piece of dirt, and even laughs about the stupid massage episode. Two shots of liqueur on an empty stomach makes that seem like not such a big deal, and she simply decides that she won’t volunteer for massage duty anymore, because obviously it was a mistake. She’d liked helping Bucky to feel better when he was hurting, but not enough to make up for having to endure the very non-platonic swooping in her belly she’d gotten from having her hands all over his naked back. Fuck, is he ever hot. Both of them are. They’re bodies are just, guh. 

She doesn’t need that frustration in her life.

She’s got a moderate buzz by the time she finishes her next project, and she cheerfully bops onto her next task. 

It’s such a relief, not having that heavy feeling of anxiousness and general uncomfortability weighing down on her. Jeez, she hadn’t even realized how bad it had gotten. She forgot how much a few drinks helped. She gets giddy and chases that feeling, quickly sneaking another quick shot (this time of the rum they use on the rum buns, though, because it really was gross that she drank that liqueur straight—blecgh). What’s one more quick drink in between batches of cakes going in and out of the oven, after all?

… And then just once more, after she’s added the last chunk of the butter into the whipping forty quart. By the time she’s got everything set out to basic-build the next bunch of babycakes, she’s in a great mood. It’s almost as good as the subspace had been, back in the beginning with Bucky. She hums songs under her breath and moves around the kitchen assembling and icing the cute little five inch cakes that are her specialty.

It’s her pet project, something she’d suggested to Mr. Flaherty, the bakery’s owner. Not only are they friggin’ adorable, they’re easy to bang out a bunch of them all at once, small enough to cost pennies to make, and big enough and cute enough that people are willing to pay way more than the cakes are actually worth. Mary knows for a fact that they have the highest profit margin of any item in the bakery. She’s privately very proud that Mr. Flaherty had listened to her idea and decided it was something they would offer on the regular menu. Dennis had underplayed it—like the jealous killjoy he is. 

Mary celebrates her good mood with another teeny sip of booze and then spends extra effort on smooth-icing in all the best pastel colors, thinking that today is a great day and can only get better from here.

Wrongo bongo.

“What the heck!”

“Oh, shit,” Mary hisses, running into the back when she smells burning bread and hears her manager’s voice calling out. Sure enough, Dennis is there, oven mitts in hand, angrily sliding a tray of blackened croissants onto the speed rack, and going back to the oven to pull out another. There are six trays of ruined croissants, and Mary grimaces “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

Dennis ignores her until he’s finished pulling out all the wasted product, and when he’s done, he lays her out. “This isn’t fucking Panera Bread,” he tells her angrily. “We’re a mom and pop bakery. Profit margins are slimmer than slim!”

Mary cringes. “I know, I know, I’m sor—”

“How much money did you just cost us?” Dennis demands, hands on his hips. “Huh? Tell me. I want you to stand there and think about it and tell me how much.”

Mary stares for a second, then realizes that he’s dead serious. Humiliated, she licks her lips and does the math: 6 trays of 10 = 60 croissants, 60 x $4 per ganache-stuffed croissant, minus about $30 ingredients cost. It takes her longer than it normally would, since she’s been drinking, but when she’s worked it out she winces and looks down in shame. “I dunno … A little over two hundred, I guess.”

Dennis flails his hand holding the oven mitts. “We can’t afford to have you ruining hundreds of dollars of profit, Mary. Get it together.”

She frowns, indignant. “I was up front helping a customer,” she defends. 

“That’s what the oven timer is for.”

“I know that. I just forgot to—”

“You’re forgetting a lot of things lately.” He gestures angrily at the trays of blackened croissants. “I’ve tried to help you. I gave you time off to get your shit together when your boyfriend came in and told me about your mental condition.”

Mary grits her teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Dom, dungeon master, whatever,” he says nastily. “I don’t know what you people get up to. But I’ve given you a lot of chances cause you’re apparently dealing with some shit. I can’t keep doing that forever if you keep costing this place money.”

Mary glares and steps up closer, getting in his face. “Maybe if you actually hired someone for front of house on Tuesdays, then I could actually focus back here!”

Dennis’ expression changes suddenly. He narrows his eyes at her and leans in closer. “What’s that?” he says, deathly quiet.

Mary huffs. “I said, you need to hire more—”

“You smell like alcohol.”

Everything comes to a stop as his words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Oh, fuck. She takes a step back, shaking her head. “What?” She scowls like that’s absurd, about to say something to deny it, but the words die on her lips when she sees the way Dennis is looking at her. He knows. Mary feels sick.

Dennis’ expression darkens further. “Are you drinking on the job, Mary?”

“No!” (what’s she supposed to do, tell the truth?)

“I don’t believe you.” He squares his jaw. “I’m calling Mr. Flaherty in.”

“What?!” 

“Two hundred dollars of wasted product? Drinking on the job?” He’s already walking over to the wall phone and picking it up. When he looks back in Mary’s direction, there’s a gleam in his eyes. Fucker never did like her. “I told him I thought you had a drinking problem, and now I have proof.”

“You don’t have shit!” Mary cries. She’s actually panicking though, as she watches him dial the number to call the bakery’s owner. 

“I have the security cameras,” he says, looking vindictively pleased. “We’ll check them. You’re gonna be out of a job.” 

Mary stands there and watches in horrified disbelief as Dennis calls Mr. Flaherty and tells him that he needs to have a word with him in person that afternoon about “something serious.” He doesn’t give details, and when the call ends and he hangs up the phone, he shoots Mary a smug look. “I’ll work the register so that you can finish your shift back here and not make any more stupid mistakes.” 

Mary scoffs, panicked and angry and sick to her stomach with what’s happening. “No way! Forget it!” She hurries to untie her apron and yank it off. “I’m not gonna stick around here for you to lie and get me fired. I quit!” She tosses the apron to the floor and stalks back to grab her purse from the office, too panicked to think straight. She cannot stay there and see poor old Mr. Flaherty watch video evidence of her drinking on the job. He’s always been so nice to her, and now she’s betrayed him and fucked everything up. She’s just ruined the only job she’s ever liked. 

Dennis is getting less and less angry and more gleeful about it. “Bye bye, Hot-Mess Mary,” he sneers. “Don’t bother coming back. We’ll mail you your last paycheck. Have a nice life.”

“Fuck you, Dennis!” she yells, though her voice comes out choked with emotion. She shoulders her purse and whirls around before there’s any chance of him seeing her tearing up. She hurries for the back door that leads out to the alleyway. It's heavy and metal, and she shoulders it open with a grunt, stepping out. “Jealous prick,” she says, only to hear him laugh meanly and call out from inside,

“Jealous? Of you? An alcoholic pervert?”

The heavy back door slams shut before she can answer, and there’s no handle on the outside. It takes approximately two point five seconds for her to burst out crying.

Steve

“Fuck, Honey, ugh.”

Steve digs his fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass and shuffles closer on his knees. On the couch (whose cushions have since been put back into place), Bucky parts his legs even farther and Steve takes him in deeper. His other hand keeps nudging the toy that’s buried in his husband’s ass—the glass p-spot toy, because unlike Steve, Bucky loves firmness but hates vibrations up there. Steve’s been gently fucking him with it, nudging it against his prostate again and again, having found the perfect angle. Every grunt and moan that he gets out of Bucky has his own cock throbbing in his underwear, but he isn’t touching himself, is devoting every ounce of his attention to resolving the “problem” that Mary’s massage left Bucky with. 

“You know,” Bucky says, voice a little breathy as he speaks between groans. “I’m never gonna—nnh. Never gonna look at this couch again without thinking of her oily hands sliding all over my back."

Steve hums in agreement, the sound reverberating around Bucky’s cock and pulling another hiss from him. Steve pops off to glance upwards. “Me too,” he says, and they share a look of heated yearning, before he shakes it off and sinks his mouth back down on Bucky’s throbbing length.

He’s been dragging it out, having fun with it. But now it’s gotten sloppy and wet, and Steve’s jaw aches, and he really wants to make Bucky come so he can finally get a hand around himself. He hums around Bucky’s cock once more while he still can, then takes him all the way to the hilt, nose pressing into his pubes and throat spasming around the head.

“Oh! shit …” Bucky’s fingers dig sharply into Steve's scalp. His hips stutter up of their own accord, making Steve choke a little, but he soldiers on. Bucky makes a helpless little sound that is very close to a whimper, and which has Steve’s belly pulling tight with arousal. “Close, Baby. So close, fuck …”

Steve purposefully chokes himself, letting it hit the back of his throat again and again, swallowing compulsively. It gets him what he wants, which is for this blowjob to be over.

Above him, Bucky slumps further on the cushions and groans long and low, the tortured moan letting Steve know that he’s cresting that edge. He pulls back to suck hard on the head, abandoning the toy to the clenching of Bucky's ass so he can stroke him through it. He hums happily when he feels the pulse of Bucky’s cock on his tongue, the hot spurts of cum, the clenching of thighs muscle beneath his hands. Fuck, it’s sexy. 

Having been with the man for so long, Steve knows exactly when to ease off. He gentles his touch and stops sucking. He waits with Bucky’s softening cock in his mouth, not pulling off until the hands that were gripping him desperately a moment ago smooth gently through his hair in gratitude. Steve pulls off, keeps his mouth closed, doesn’t swallow. Bucky’s flushed and wet cock falls onto his belly, gorgeously swollen and spent. Steve’s staring at it covetously when Bucky gives a long, shaky exhale from above, tapering off in a satisfied groan. “Stevie,” he sighs happily. “Mmhh. Fuck. C’mere.” 

He pulls Steve up onto the couch, not satisfied until he’s got him in his lap. Steve straddles him and smiles with his mouth still closed. “Good boy,” Bucky whispers, reaching up to gently cup the front of his neck. His eyes are heavy lidded but still heated as he strokes his thumb over Steve’s windpipe. He loves to watch Steve swallow his cum, and that’s why Steve hasn’t yet, is waiting for his signal. He’s very good at making a show of it: dragging it out, eye contact, showing the load on his tongue if Bucky wants, swallowing slowly and obviously; really turning it into an act of obedience for his husband.

He’s surprised when Bucky doesn’t tell him to swallow. “Hold it,” he says instead, confusing Steve. Bucky grins devilishly and reaches down between their bodies. He returns with the glass toy in hand and holds it up. “Get it wet," he purrs.

And Steve’s entire body goes stiff as he re-remembers that he’s married to the filthiest man on the fucking planet.

Steve must be filthy too, though, because a massive wave of arousal sweeps through him as Bucky holds up the toy with a dirty smirk and commands him to wet it up—with his own cum. Steve almost feels lightheaded from how all the blood rushes to his cock and away from his brain. He groans through his mouthful of cum, and Bucky’s lips curl. “You heard me. Do it.”

He looks down and aims, letting his mouthful of cum slide out onto the tip of the glass toy that was buried in Bucky’s ass not ten seconds ago. It’s obscene, filthy, and that only makes his belly swirl that much harder as Bucky uses his flesh fingertips to spread the cum around lazily, coating the clear glass with his own sticky cum. “Good,” he praises, still smirking at Steve through half lidded eyes. “Now, put it in.” 

Steve groans and takes the toy from him. They haven’t done prep, but it’s a small, slim toy, and he knows it’ll slide in easily with the help of his husband’s own jizz slicking the way. Jesus Christ. He starts to move, intending to take his underwear off, but Bucky stops him with an amused shake of the head.

“Uh uh. Just pull ‘em aside and put it in. Keep your briefs on.”

“Fuck.” He listens, reaching back to pull his underwear to the side and press the head of the toy to his rim. He works it inside, eyelids fluttering when it pops past the muscle and glides in smoothly. “Oh,” he sighs, letting his underwear snap back and shifting his hips to feel the stretch against his rim, the heavy curve of it settling into place against his prostate. “Fuck.” He starts rocking his hips in tiny motions to work it inside him, barely-there sounds of pleasure escaping him each time it does. “Ooh, Buck,” he breathes. He doesn’t realize his eyes have closed until Bucky startles him with a kiss, growling and tugging him in close by the back of the neck. “Mmph!”

Their lips clash in a harsh, demanding kiss, Bucky taking possession of it and gripping the back of his neck hard to keep him still. Steve pants and whines and takes it, hips juddering forward to grind his aching dick against Bucky’s stomach. Each dominating swipe of Bucky’s tongue into his mouth makes him ache for more. “Buck,” he pants, right against Bucky's lips, where he's shamelessly kissing his messy mouth. “Baby, oh, please?”

“Yeah?” His hand cups Steve from over his underwear, squeezing the line of his erection. “You’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he husks, dipping under the waistband to curl his fingers around him. “Make me feel so good, fuck, I love you.”

Steve moans and rests his forehead on Bucky's naked shoulder, looking down to watch. He whines when he sees that it’s the metal hand—which he already knew by feel, but the sight of it is a whole other level of hot. Steve thinks of it like a knife kink, or a gun kink: seeing something so steely and dangerous that close to him, wrapped around and working him, giving him pleasure. The sight of all that black and gold metal on his cock makes his belly clamp down hard in need. “Oh fuck, ” he breathes. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah, Sweetheart.” Bucky kisses his ear and breathes hotly against him as he pumps and twists his hand, going tight just the way Steve likes. It’s messy from the precum that Steve’s dick keeps blurting out, and he whimpers at the soft, wet sounds it begins making. “I know,” Bucky whispers. “You get so worked up. I love that. Big fat cock n’ balls, but you wet up for me just like a girl, dontcha' Sweetheart? Bet you started right down there on your knees, too. Hard and leaking just from sucking me off, making a mess in your panties.” Steve groans in embarrassment and Bucky snickers. “Aw, don’t try to deny it. I saw that boner when you crawled on up here. Saw the wet spot on those tighty-whities, too.” Playfully, he snaps the elastic band of Steve’s underwear against his hip. “You get off on it. Pretty little cocksucker.”

Steve humps into his fist, which between how slick it is and how tightly Bucky’s gripping him, feels fucking amazing. “Nnuhh,” he moans, “I get off on you. You were so—fuck, mmph—so hard when she left. I f-felt bad for you.”

Bucky growls and strokes faster. “Don’t be patronizing, baby. I saw the state she left you in. At least I had the excuse of getting rubbed down.” He snickers lowly and presses another kiss to Steve's ear. “She wasn’t even touching you.”

“Fuck,” Steve says tightly, as he recalls the image of Mary sitting on the bed with Bucky, rubbing his naked back with her oiled hands—Her tiny oiled hands, that would look so good on their cocks. Fuck, he’s going to come embarrassingly fast. He pants, trying to get words out. “I—nuhh, oh. I wanted to—mmm …”

Bucky bites his earlobe. “Wanted to what? Tell me.”

“Wanted to watch her give you a happy ending,” he grunts. “Tell you to turn over n’ watch her jerk you off.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks, voice dark and interested. “Mm. You miss women.” Steve whines and nods in lieu of an answer. “Well maybe we’ll get a third sometime. A special treat. Only this time we'll get a girl, take turns fucking her. Maybe I’ll even have her fuck you with a strap-on.” Steve moans and kisses him dirtily, and Bucky reciprocates, hand leaving Steve’s cock so he can hold his jaw with both hands. 

Steve whimpers and his hips keep moving, chasing the friction that isn’t there anymore. “Buck,” he breaks off from the kiss to beg. “Please. Please. I need to cum.”

Bucky smiles and takes pity on him, but he switches up his hands, using the flesh one on Steve’s cock so that he can squeeze even more, really wringing up hard and thumbing under the head on every stroke. Steve sobs and sits back, bracing on Bucky’s shoulders and watching himself fuck into clench of his fist. “Yeah,” he moans. “Oh, God. Fuck yeah, just like that.”

“How’s that toy feel?” Bucky reaches his other hand underneath and taps against the glass toy’s base a few times— ‘tap, tap, tap,’ —humming in satisfaction when Steve cries out and ruts desperately into his fist. “Ooh,” he goads. “It feels that good, huh?” Tap, tap, tap. “It that gonna make you cum?”

“Nnnh.” Steve nods tightly, hips working hard. “Yeah, oh. Yeah. M’gonna. Ohgn…”” 

His balls draw up tight and his cock jerks when Bucky takes hold of the toy’s base and starts slowly pulling it out. That feeling against his rim is what does it, pushing him over the edge and making the pleasure coalesce and snap.

He cries out sharply as he shoots, his body straining and hips pulsing, ribbons of white cum striping over Bucky’s naked stomach, one after another.

“Fuck, Honey. So beautiful. Fuck that’s a lot. Fuck. Lookit’ you, big boy.”

His cooing praise drags it out longer, and by the time Steve’s dick is spent and softening again, he’s collapsed forward against Bucky, mess of cum between them be damned. He rests his head on his shoulder and hugs him while he recovers. “Fuck,”  pants, closing his eyes and enjoying the sheer relief of it all. “That was good. I needed that.”

Bucky hums and rubs his back. “Me too.”

When they finally peel themselves off each other, they’re faced with two wet, spent dicks, and the mess of cum that did not magically disappear just because Steve wanted it to. He sighs and climbs off the couch.

“Shower,” Bucky decides, and goes into the bathroom with Steve following behind. He starts the water running and shucks his joggers that he'd only just pulled back up. “Feel like we were just doin’ this,” he complains.

“That’s cause we were.” Steve pads over and stands against him, leaning in, chest to chest.

Bucky leans against the wall and wraps his arms around Steve’s lower back while they wait for the water to warm up. “Do you really want a threesome?” he asks. “Like we used to do?" 

Steve sighs and presses his forehead into Bucky’s chest. His first inclination is to say yes. They used to sleep with men, have threesomes a few times a year, for fun. They’d only stopped because they’d mutually fallen into contentment with married life. But Steve realizes it’s the way Bucky’s framed it: does he want to have threesomes again. With a girl. And the answer is no. Steve doesn’t want to have 'a threesome' anymore, with 'a girl', or 'a guy'. He doesn’t want anything casual. He says as much, and groans into Bucky’s skin. “I just want her,” he says. “I want it to be serious, and I want it with her.”

Bucky strokes his back, not saying anything for a long minute. “Yeah,” he eventually agrees. “Me too.” 

Steve makes a mournful sound in his throat. “Can’t we try? Maybe ask her out on a date? She might come around if she doesn’t feel like we’re just trying to jump her bones straight away, y’know? We’ve never really had that time with her. It went straight from ‘how do you do’ to moving her in here with us.” Bucky’s chest rises and falls with a deep inhale, and his hands have stopped moving on Steve’s back, which is how Steve knows he's really thinking about it. “Buck?” he tries. “C’mon. Let’s just give it a shot. Linda said she needs sex anyways, and I know you don’t like the idea of her with another man.”

Against him, bucky growls grumpily.

“Just one more try,” Steve pleads. “Let’s just tell her upfront we have feelings for her and that we’d like to court her.”

Bucky snorts. "'Court’?”

Steve whaps him and pulls his head back. “You know what I mean. Nice stuff. Take her out, buy her flowers.” 

“I know what you mean.”

They stare in each other's eyes as Steve reaches over to feel the shower water. It's warm. “It’ll be her choice," he says. "We won’t be bossy.”

“Kind of hard not to be bossy when she thrives on that.”

Steve gives him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “Yeah I know what you mean.” He pulls the curtain and goes to step into the shower, but Steve stops him from behind with a hand on his arm—his left one. “And this,” he says, looking at him with authority. “Let me take this off. And you keep it it off around the house like you used to do.” He watches the brief reluctance that plays out on Bucky’s face, but is relieved when his husband doesn’t turn it into a fight. “Thank you, babe,” he says, taking the arm off and setting it out on their bed before returning to the bathroom. Bucky’s in the shower, so he steps in and stands with him under the spray. He wraps his arms around Bucky from behind, letting his left hand drag up over his stomach and chest, up to the anchor site where it meets his pec. “You can be a good Dom without it, you know,” he murmurs. 

“... I know. It was silly.”

He kisses Bucky’s shoulder. “Not silly. I love you.” In his arms, Bucky’s body bleeds all its tension and he lets a little bit of his weight come back through Steve, who kisses his neck again. “Tonight?” he asks, knowing that Bucky will know what he means. 

Bucky nods. “Tonight.”

Bucky

“A bar?!”

"Yeah. Leave me alone."

Bucky stares helplessly as Mary kicks off her shoes and walks (stumbles, is more like it) through the apartment and back towards her bedroom. The conversation they've just had was short and completely non-productive, other than that it's got Bucky feeling like he's on the verge of blowing up. “Mare, stop! Come back here.”

She throws him the finger over her shoulder and pushes into her bedroom, shutting the door harshly behind her. Bucky growls and starts for the hallway, but Steve stops him with a hand to his shoulder, pulling him back. “Hang on, Babe.”

“She’s drunk!” Bucky hisses, turning furious eyes to Steve. “Been missing for hours and now this?! How did she even get it?”

“I know, I know.”

Bucky snarls, mad at Steve for being so fucking calm. “Did you give her her ID back?!”

“No! Don’t be stupid, babe.”

His eyes cut over, sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “She’s thirty Hon. I’m sure there are plenty of bartenders who’d serve her without checking.”

“Well that’s just, just …” Bucky sputters, struggling to find the words. “There have to be consequences!” He starts for the hall again but Steve grabs him and pulls him back and into a restraining hug. Bucky kind of wants to hit him. “Steve!”

“Shh,” Steve says. “Sh sh, just hang on a second. Take a deep breath.” He holds him tightly, rubbing his back and nosing at his neck, and Bucky realizes that Steve is employing some of the things he’s learned at the CDP, trying to calm him down.

He blinks, noticing how hot his face feels, how fast his pulse is thrumming underneath his skin. He exhales shakily, feeling bad. “Fuck. I'm ..."

"Yeah."

"Sorry.” 

“S’okay,” Steve whispers. “Maybe today’s not the best day, after all.”

Bucky’s eyes flick over in the direction of the kitchen table. “Better get rid of those, then,” he grunts, referring to the flowers Steve had picked up at the bodega for Mary.

“I will. And we’ll figure this out, find out what happened, and talk to her another day, okay? We'll get new flowers.” 

“No, not okay,” Bucky insists, his anxiety ratcheting up again as he thinks of the state Mary just came home in. “We need to deal with her.” 

Steve pulls back and meets his eyes, and Bucky feels like an asshole all over again. “What do you need?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky grits his teeth. To spank the ever loving shit outta that girl, he thinks but doesn’t say. He knows better than that, even on the verge of an episode, he can tell that he’s not being logical. He closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths, pulls away from Steve because he’s embarrassed. “Nothin’.”

“Hey, it’s okay to need—”

“It’s not,” Bucky snaps, walking over to the couch and dumping himself onto it. He feels kind of sick—likely his blood pressure making him nauseous. “How am I supposed to be a good Dom for her when I can’t even keep myself in check? Christ.” He shoves his face into his hand. “I’m supposed to be better than this.”

Steve takes a minute, and when he approaches Bucky it’s with a gentle, careful expression that Bucky hates. “Babe, you know that makes no sense, right?” Bucky just grunts and Steve says, “That's like a diabetic saying they should have better willpower to control their insulin levels.”

Bucky glares at him for the trite comparison, wants to snap at his husband to stop quoting CDP literature at him. But that’d be nasty, and he bites his tongue. “No,” he grunts.

“You got told by Linda that you’re not giving her enough, not doing enough to meet her needs, and it’s been days since you really went up. You think I can't see that her drops aren't doing it for you now? You're too in tune with her. You both need more. And I should’ve seen this coming.” Steve sinks down to the carpet in front of him and kneels there reaching to rub his palms over the tops of Bucky’s thighs.

Bucky scowls at the gesture. “That’s not your job,” he says. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“I’m your husband,” Steve says, almost authoritatively, even though he’s keeping his voice soft and calm like the Center professionals taught him. “It’s my job to take care of you, always.” He rubs Bucky’s tense muscles from over his jeans. “Babe, c’mon. Let me help you.”

Bucky closes his eyes and counts to twenty. When he opens them again, Steve’s still there, waiting. Bucky reaches out and cups his face.

Steve presses into it. “Sir,” he whispers, eyes lowered.

Bucky feels so guilty at that, even as he can feel his blood pressure lowering from the small display of subservience. “I love you,” he says.

Steve smiles softly and squeezes his hands over Bucky’s knees. “I know.”

Bucky sighs. He releases Steve and slumps back into the couch cushions, feeling like the biggest burden. “I should call and book someone,” he says. Steve’s not a submissive and he shouldn’t have to play that role just to fulfill Bucky’s medical needs. Linda’s helped him come to terms with that over the years. Steve, the self-sacrificing punk, would do it anyway, but Bucky knows when he needs to ask for outside help. “Nathan can usually take me last minute.” Steve nods and stands up, brings Bucky his cellphone to make the call. He sits on the couch with him and pulls Bucky to lie with his head in his lap as he calls the Center and makes an appointment. “Okay,” he says when he’s done, tossing the phone aside. “Six-thirty. He’s coming in after hours just for little old me.”

“Good.”

Bucky’s eyes cut sideways towards the bedroom hallway. Their plans for the night are ruined, and if he didn’t have himself to deal with right now, he’d be hard pressed to keep himself from going in Mary’s room, trying to scold her. “What about her?” he asks glumly.

Steve snorts. “Little miss drunk? She’s probably passed out. Don’t worry about it. Besides,” he runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair.  “Can’t reason with someone when they’re like that. Discussion, punishment, scening? That’ll all have to wait until tomorrow, at least.”

Bucky makes a face and tries not to let his dominance start spiraling out of control again. “She’s going to AA.” Steve hums, and when Bucky looks up and catches his expression, Steve looks like he’s worrying for his safety. “Tomorrow,” he insists, obstinate. “I’ll take the day from work if I have to. Drag her there myself.”

“Maybe no dragging."

"Steve,"

"Linda first,” Steve suggests gently. “That’s a better first step, hm?” Bucky grunts, grumpy about it but knowing Steve’s right. He nods, and Steve runs kind hands through his hair. “Okay, good. That’s settled. Don’t have to think about it any more tonight.” He bends down and pecks a quick kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “So, six-thirty?”

“Mmhm.”

“An hour. … You want to help me get dinner started before you go?”

Bucky nods, turning and pressing his face into Steve’s lower belly, rubbing his cheek against his soft tee shirt and warm body. “Love you,” he mumbles, feeling sheepish from his outburst before. He knows it’s not his fault, but he still feels inordinately grateful to have Steve supporting him. “You ever get tired of all this drama?”

“Shuddup,” Steve chuckles.

“Mm. You should leave me for a normie." He’s got his eyes closed against Steve’s stomach, but feels the reproachful pinch on his neck. “Ow.”

“If I’d wanted a normie, I’d have married a normie,” Steve scolds. He pets over where he pinched. “And apparently I’m a glutton for punishment, cause I’ve got my sights set on another one’a you jerks. This is just a setback. We’ll let her sober up, you’ll go see the Pro, and then when everybody’s in the right frame of mind, we’ll deal with it. Now come on.” He pats Bucky on the back. “Mary's not the only one who can navigate a kitchen. I’ve got a recipe for chicken piccata we can try.”

Bucky sighs. He’s so fucking in love with Steve, and he’s never got any good way to say it. There's nothing. Wedding vows barely scratched the surface. “Okay,” he says, because what else is there to do but agree? Like most times, Bucky knows his more level-headed husband is right about this.

They get up and go into the kitchen to start pulling the ingredients for chicken piccata, and Bucky is able to keep his mouth shut for a full five minutes before his anxiety ratchets back up and he returns to haranguing Steve about confronting Mary—possibly later that night.

*Next chapter starts out IMMEDIATELY with the big confrontation and beginning of their romantic and sexual relationship, so I promise y'all won't have to wait much longer!

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[watchingblsnowandforever]

We Are Ep. 11

Part 2

Hello again!!!

Here's part 1 of this post. It's not necessary to read that, but this does follow directly from there.

Warning: long post 😊😅

And again, we see Phum coming here for no reason but to drop Peem off.

Also, he usually just stayed in the car previously, but now he's walking with Peem all the way.

I reckon we'll be seeing much more of Phum appearing in front of the Fine Arts building for nothing but to drop off or talk to his boyfriend Peem, in a slight reflection of all the times he came here to take Peem off somewhere to make him do something for him.

And I can't wait for it. <3

Q: something very gay is going on here hmm 🤨

Be glad it's Q (who has enough tact to ask you about it in private) and not Toey who'd immediately call y'all out 😭

He played in water all day with Phum and then they cuddled all night. Next question.

Poor Peem 😭

You just confessed you woke up together 😭

And you think someone as smart (most of the times) as Q wouldn't catch on?

[Also, just an observation: Peem is painting a scenery with water here too.]

Beer knows everything. 😌

He's the only one in their combined friend groups with two braincells, and he has no difficulty calling out his friends (Phum) when they're being idiots.

And again 😭

I see it's not your turn with the braincell yet, Peem

Also, the chicken sounds in the background I was dying 😭😂

Phum's backstory was painful to hear, but I kind of expected something like this. It would explain his attachment to plushies, his fear of losing people and behaviour that might seem "childish".

SO CUTE OH MY GODS

Q gives his beloved pencil case to his beloved nong Toey to draw on, and what does Toey do? Make the most adorable doodle of his beloved P'Q 😭👍🏼

Seriously though, this is really good, and it also probably has a beautiful symbolism that I'm too lazy to go into right now 😭

Coming from Q that means a lot. And Toey knows that very well.

Again, what secretly, you're both about as subtle as the glaring sun on a hot summer day.

And it's time you two idiots (affectionate) get your shit together and kiss as boyfriends (gods know you've kissed as... whatever you are right now more times than I can keep count).

Yeah! You're talking nonsense, Phum, it's obvious you fell first!

*sigh* honestly though, at this point, I don't know how, but they managed to be worse than even ChainPun.

Jokes apart, I know they're both a bit insecure, and they didn't get off to the best start. But I hope that in the next ep, they'll realize they're both head over heels for the other and finally start dating.

Also, about time Peem finally accepted Phum as his personal driver <3

That scene in the shop was very sweet too, and most PhumPeem scenes in this ep had me going all gooey and mushy hehe

This show I calling me out 🥲

But I'm even worse because I can only make Maggi (with or without added condiments) 😭

Do y'all see the importance of this moment?!

Phum in the painting studio?!

This painting studio is Peem's safe space, and he's allowing Phum in there willingly.

Slowly, but surely, he's letting Phum in, and starting to accept that yes, this guy is an idiot, but he's an idiot Peem really really likes.

I knew this was coming but that didn't mean I was ready for it 🫣😳

TanFang are absolutely slaying

Love them. <3

This scene is a goddamn masterpiece. It rendered me speechless. What am I supposed to say to that?

Peem's soft little "You did a great job, getting through those times." has me in a chokehold. The nose boop, the kiss- I'm screaming crying rolling around on the bed.

Tried to do a confident walk away but the gate was in his way 😭

Peem is me though, I bump into things like thrice a day at the least.

He- 😶

I gasped at this scene, because you realize what this means right?

This painting, that was ruined due to Phum, that he had to painstakingly repaint while having to obey Phum's whims, this painting that represents his comfort (I don't know shit about art interpretation, but in grade 12 I had friends who'd taken art and I learnt a couple things from them), that represents himself, and in this painting, he adds bright red roses, for the ones that Phum gave him when he was driving him back because he was absolutely wasted, the roses he didn't have the heart to throw out.

And he's drawing these red roses to represent Phum, to show that inexplicably, but undeniably, Phum is a part of his life now; a part he likes enough to embed in one of his most prized paintings (as assumed from various context clues and such along the series). And when he does, he thinks of how Professor Po said "Every work you create contains a piece of you".

If this doesn't show that despite his caustic and sarcastic exterior, Peem is a sappy mushy romantic at heart (he is a Fine Arts student after all), I don't know what does.

This moment felt so poetic (I literally could write a poem about it and it still wouldn't be able to capture the raw beauty and vulnerability and love of this scene.)

Update: I really did write a poem about it 😭

I really like this scene.

Apart from not leaving Kluen hanging, and making sure he knows, this moment is also about Peem admitting to himself aloud, that yes, he does like Phum. He's slowly getting out of De Nile.

He didn't have to say this, but he did. To gently reject Kluen and tell himself that there was no going back now.

Matt: what in the gay chicken-

Toey: ooh this seems interesting. will they kiss? 👀

Poor Chain 😭

Let him enjoy being shipped with his husband bestie!

And all the while these two are having a staring contest to decide who'll tell their friends.

Beer knows exactly what's going on.

This moment is everything to me (other than the one in the painting studio of course).

Peem tried to muster the courage to tell all his friends that he and Phum were... well, more than enemies or friends at least, but he couldn't.

And Phum, my beloved, while more than a little emotionally constipated, he has consistently tried to tell Peem what he feels. And now, he's the one outright saying he likes Peem in front of everyone. He's the one saying "okay, if you can't, I will." And I love him for it. He does it while staring right at Peem too.

Live Reactions of Friends Who Just Found Out that the Guy Who Ruined Other Guy's Painting and The Other Guy, Who Kicked Him In The Balls For It, Have Fallen Victim to the BL Laws and Are Now Very Much In Love.

Beer: knew it 😌

Fang: my little brother?!

Tan: YOU AREN'T SWORN ENEMIES?!

Matt: I have to deal with another couple?? 🥺🥲

Q: I'm not drunk enough to deal with this shit.

Toey: wait... I WAS RIGHT?!!

That freaking cliffhanger though 🥲

It's better now but at the moment I wanted to commit homicide 😭

I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself, Q's "RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?!" expression is just too hilarious 😭😂

So that's all for ep 11, see you next week!

And if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a burger and some fries 🍔🍟

[If you want, my previous posts: Ep. 8 Ep.9 Ep.10]

[ellsieee]

Stay With Me didn't let us down! 😭 We got kisses and a confession. There is no way anyone can say it's not a BL now. 🙄 Not that there was any doubt even before that. The subtext was just too obvious.

I can't believe they went there. Super sleuths have already found that it really is just lip balm, but the implication is clearly that Wu Bi's dad found his lube. Wu Bi why did you do your dad dirty like that? Don't smear your lube on his mouth! 🤣

Wu Bi was about to confess but he chickened out. 😅 Shy Wu Bi is so cute. Wu Bi really can't live without Su Yu. He had never been that bitchy and rude to Mo Yi before, but now there's someone at home he wants to be with and has no time for Mo Yi's shit.

First almost caught by Wu Bi's dad and now Mao Chong. Su Yu's nervous shifty eyes cracked me up. We all know he and Wu Bi have been doing something something in his room.

They are so happy to see each other!😭Their smiles. Really, I can't. I love how much they love each other. I could not stop smiling watching them hug.

Oh how I squealed. THEY ARE SO FRIGGIN CUTE!!! AHHHHHHH! This might literally be my favorite moment in the entire series.

"Go cough somewhere else" lol. Poor Mo Yi. Right in front of his salad.

Su Yu's little smile is EVERYTHING. I feel like we're missing a scene before this though. It just seems a bit out of place that Wu Bi would run up to kiss Su Yu at school and for Su Yu to not be surprised or embarrassed. I'm counting on that uncut release later. Actually I felt like the editing for these two eps was a bit choppy. I'm going to guess it's because they cut a bunch of stuff because it was too gay.

I love all the subtle ways they show us they're boyfriends. Su Yu casually using Wu Bi as a leg rest, Wu Bi teasing Su Yu about him not knowing he's Wu Bi's most important person, Su Yu taking care of Wu Bi, and Wu Bi making not so subtle hints about their relationship in front of everyone. Why always in front of Doudou? Always! 😅

The normally aloof Su Yu kissed Wu Bi! Again it's Su Yu's little smile after the kiss that makes it so sweet. The spoilers were actually true! I didn't think this would happen because in the behind the scenes Jiongmin had said there was no scene where he kisses Xu Bin, but here we are! Xu Bin's dream has finally come true. 🤭

I was not expecting such an explicit confession! They tried to hide the gay a little by having Su Yu add the ocean part, but Wu Bi's qq screen name is 我想我是海 (I wish I am the sea) and so when Su Yu shouts 我爱你, 大海 (I love you sea), he is not so subtly telling Wu Bi that he loves him. Awwwww. ​​​🥹

But also, I have to drag production a bit on the terrible green screen CGI here. It looks so fake! Did they run out of money? How hard is it to film a sunset at a beach?

No. Don't you dare Mo Yi. Fuck off. If the last two eps break my heart I'm going to consider SWM as having only 22 episodes where the boys are together and happy.

The girls on weibo only went a little crazy. I didn't see SWM on the main hot search but they were trending for a little while. Hopefully it was short enough where it didn't draw too much attention. 😅

[tubbytarchia]

the final day. of the 30 day hardcore series. jimmy aka solidaritygaming has gone live. the final day is upon us. (although theres actually like 1 day 23 hours left. so idk what hes on about. if it were just him id say its cuz he doesnt stream on weekends but martyns title says final day too. theyre all a bunch of liars) ITS A LONG ONE GET READY

anyway. he logs on and immediately gets up to gay shit

anyway he sees martyn and they start going ITS COOOOOOMING HOME ITS COOOOOOOMING HOME because theyre both football nerds. then sausage and mog comes over. martyn has a censor/beep on his soundboard and he says something with it and jimmy gets annoyed so martyn tells jimmy to **** himself. off to a great start

jimmy starts attacking him with a bow and martyn keeps pressing the button. martyn traps himself in an obsidian box.

sausage and mog are thinking about bringing the ender dragon to the overworld. idk how to do that but i wouldnt put it past them. they all want to do a raid too.

THERES FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THE CHICKENS. martyn has a thing on his ship that fires out chicken eggs. they keep trying to guess when its going to fire by counting down. they keep saying theyre going to kiss each other if they get it right. ?? sure. then they start trying to get it to hit them on the head

riveting content. they do this for like 10 minutes. they start gambling using martyns on-stream tamagotchi thing. its like a higher or lower thing using a roulette table. u say red or black then if its the right colour martynll say like... "red 7 higher or lower" then u have to guess if the next spin will be a higher or lower number?? i have no idea whats going on. but jimmy got the highest streak so WOOOO

it hits martyn. low quality martyn getting hit with an egg.

THE DISCS ARE MISSING. someone has taken the discs. theres some in both sausages and martyns base. jimmy challenges martyn to a 1v1 (if they both survive the raid) and jimmy then turns to say if he survives he'll challenge sausage next.

sausage says theyre all going to kiss after the raid and jimmy says he does not kiss thieves.

they start to prep for the raid and jimmy gets a trident. he immediately starts attacking cpk who starts attacking him with his mace. jimmy gets his ass beat as sneeg and sausage start attacking him with their maces too. he calls out for martyn to save him.

when martyn does not come to rescue him scott logs in so he runs to scotts house. its actually really sweet do not talk to me.

j: SCOTT?! SCOTT THEYRE BULLYING ME :(

s: whats new though? you normally get bullied.

j: no theyre really- theyre coming for me.

s: ah. are they being extra mean today?

j: theyre being very mean. very mean.

s: aw im sorry. (he says something else idk what he said though)

FULL CLIP/TIMESTAMP CUZ I DONT WANT TO. TRANSCRIBE IT ALL its so sweet. dont talk to me ever.

theyre doing the raid at the disc. sneeg brings a bunch of villagers out of... somewhere AND IT STARTS!!! the raid gang/everyone online is jimmy, martyn, sausage, sneeg, scott, mog, and cpk.

jimmy realises on wave 2 that he doesnt have a shield?? surely this wont go wrong. he keeps "accidentally" hitting sneeg with his trident. good thing it barely even does half a heart per hit.

martyn calls jimmy a potato/spud then says something like "you look like one of andys toys mr tater head" and jimmys like you know thats a sore subject. and martyns like oh i genuinely did not even think of that. then jimmy goes searching through cpks chests and martyn breaks them so back to normal.

jimmy gets a shield :) then he goes to sort out cpks chests because hes nice like that. he then threatens to kill martyn. hes THEN LIKE "im the bigger man arent i chat. tell me i am."

jims worried he missed the whole raid then he looks over and theres just. a ravager. so hes like okay nvm and goes back to the group. he immediately starts trying to kill martyn and i think its really funny that nobody really tries to stop jimmy. however neither of them kill each other so.

jimmy/cpk/scott get distracted trying to shoot sneeg then jimmy turns around AND THE ENTIRE NEXT WAVE IS BEHIND THEM so he just. screams.

jimmy flees to mogs base in the middle of the water and just starts shooting at anything that moves. mostly sneeg.

MARTYN KILLS JIMMYS DOG. HONK IS GONE. jimmy is setting up a pvp arena he is so desperate to kill martyn.

sneeg wants to mess with his mace so scott holds a totem and sneeg hits him. he gets the achievement for doing 50 hearts of damage in one hit so.

anyway arena is ready. sneeg takes jimmy off to the side and gives him a god apple.

martyn burns all the discs he has on him and they start fighting. its kind of pathetic. jimmy DOES kill martyn but he has a totem so. cpk tries to give jimmy a totem BUT HIS INVENTORY IS FULL so martyn picks it up. he has like 3 totems on him now.

martyn says to call the fight quits. as soon as jimmy agrees martyn tries to attack him again. MOG COMES IN WITH THE STEEL CHAIR

scott starts attacking jimmy (if he dies you have to die :( SHUT UP SCOTT) and jimmy takes a moment before he defends himself. he was not expecting martyn to die. theyre all bickering about it THEN JUST,, SAUSAGE YOU MOTHERFUCKER PUT YOUR MACE DOWN. THEN SNEEG KILLS MOG.

im genuinely so emo about this ending btw do not talk to me. do not. if u do get the time/energy i so recommend watching the vod im so. oh my god. WHATEVER!!!

anyway stream ends soon after. among us video tomorrow. roblox channel video sunday. monday stream maybe at 6pm bst (an hour late since hes recording roblox with katherine). do not talk to me ever again ok bye im gonna be thinking about this for weeks.

HATE. HATE ON THIS PLANET HATE AND WAR. GRRRRRRAA ok starting from the beginning

Seapeekay get away from him. I don't trust you anymore. Not since the "I'm killing myself if you don't come to me fast enough" incident

YAYYY JIMMY ATTACKING PEOPLE WOOOOOOOOO ATTACK MORE PEOPLE YAYYYYYYY the way Martyn doesn't really retaliate either ugh. My property police...

I fucking love that "low quality Martyn getting hit with an egg" screenshot this is the best content I could ask for

"I do not kiss thieves" is terribly ironic but um. Jimmy saying to Sausage that he will not kiss him IS SO GOOD GO JIMMY GO YEAH!!!!!! Stop letting this sex pest get away with his sex pestery. Every other exchange Sausage has with Jimmy is seriously just "oooo let's be gay" or "oooo sex joke". I seriously don't get it. If it's ship bait then it's obnoxious. Tell him off Jimmy

HELL YEAH JIMMY ATTACKING PEOPLE WOOOOO wait but this time 3 people dogpile on him. Why. Stop that. Martyn didn't do that. And yet Seapeekay, Sausage and Sneeg start dogpiling him. Leave him alone. And he calls out for Martyn..?? STOPPP this is making so genuinely sad and upset NOOOOOOO!! This is awful!!!! Martyn please... where are you Martyn...., AND THEN SCOTT LOGS IN JUST TO SAVE JIMMY? AND THEY HAVE A REALLY NICE AND PLEASANT EXCHANGE? WHat the fuckk mannn. It's awesome I do like this but knowing Scott I KNOW this will come back to bite me in the ass and make me even more sad later

Jimmy "you know that's a sore subject" to Martyn basically calling him a toy noooo THIS IS MAKING ME SAD THIS IS MAKING ME UPSET!!!!!!!!!! At least Martyn didn't mean to get at Jimmy from that angle but mmgh...

"I'm the bigger man aren't I chat. Tell me I am." NOOO WHY'D HE SAY THIS! THIS MAKES ME SAD TOO!! Awwghh man he needs the confirmation... You ARE the bigger man Jim you have been... Go be awesome...!! But at the same time maybe you don't need to try and kill Martyn for like the 3rd time Jimmy it's okay... Tensions been high, few misunderstandings, it's okay Jimmy...

The way Jimmy starts attacking Martyn (oh well :( )and nobody stops him?? Oh but when he attacked Seapeekay then he got dogpiled by 3 people what. Are they like "Oh yeah that's just what Martyn and Jimmy do" or something. Huh. Ough I hate to see them fighting at a time like this though... But at least neither of them die... and then Martyn kills Jimmy's dog?? NOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME NOOOO Honk... Honk shoo now...

And then... And then Martyn and Jimmy fight in the arena... And Jimmy wins, and Martyn says to call it quits, and then he immediately attacks Jimmy again??? man all of this is no property police banter this is malice. Property police is on pretty rocky ground to begin with but I didn't think it'd come to this wow... They are just straight up fighting. Hatred and war on planet earth. And yet, when Mog comes in swinging and kills Martyn, he chokes up... Jimmy hadn't expected Martyn to just die so soon... Oh Boatemboys oh it's getting really miserable. And he fails to defend himself in time when SCOTT STARTS ATTACKING HIM? AND SAUSAGE GETS THE FINAL HIT? Oh Scott and Sausage oh I am. Putting you in a box and shipping you to Madagascar

And Scott's reasoning for attacking Jimmy "If Martyn dies you have to die" oh so Scott suddenly cares about Martyn huh. He suddenly doesn't care so much about Jimmy even though he makes a flower husbands reference like every SMP. Suddenly Jimmy has to die because Martyn died, huh. Did that cute little conversation earlier mean nothing to you Scott. I am so upset right now. I am so fucking upset.

I need to watch this VOD for sure sometime but wow. What I've gotten from this is: - further Sausage dismay - I do not trust Seapeekay - I do not trust Sneeg - Scott is Scott - Property Police had a lot of very nostalgic and nice moments and then they started fighting each other with malice like I've never seen before. (Also Martyn killing Jimmy's dog kinda symbolic to me. Big dogs...)

The only truly good thing here is MOG I LOVE MOG YAYY Mog is AWESOME Mog even came in to defend Jimmy from Martyn. Mog has done nothing wrong ever. He especially didn't deserve to die to Sneeg. The only thing well and good in this SMP is Mog which is funny because I have two nickels now (cough cough SOS SMP) (This SMP wasn't trying to be anything it wasn't though so I'm very much not putting it on the same level as SOS but where SOS was just kinda lame to me, This SMP just made me really upset from the characters' perspective so Mog ends up being one of the only truly positive aspects both times)

[anthroarctosa]

Wine tasting <3

word count ! ; 3,322

A/n This is purely inspired by the song ankles by Lucy Dacus fully aware that’s a gay GAY song but I have Harvey brain rot and this lowk reminds me of him sorry y’all this is also not proof read at all fuck proof reading , i haven't written anything in a very uber long time (my last post on here being almost 3 years ago) but what better than old man smut to bring me back out of it who knows maybe i'll post again in another three years

Warnings(?) : SEX!!! WHAT!!! Unprotected too please be safe guys, dom Harvey but soft dom as it makes me go loopy!! Not rot dubious consent but they are tipsy from wine, this may be a horrible mischaracterisation of Harvey to you guys but I like to imagine sex Harvey and non sex Harvey are like two different people , this is written with female readers in mind , very badly written first pov I hate first pov, take a shot every time I put “I” or “he” at the start of a sentence ,

Pull me by the ankles to the edge of the bed

And take me like you do in your dreams

I'm not gonna stop you

I'm not gonna stop you this time, baby

I want you to show me what you mean

Then help me with thе crossword in the mornings

You are gonna make mе tea

gonna ask me how did i sleep

I feel a strong , heavy arm wrap around me it awakens me from my slumber and sudden flashes of the night before flood back to me.

I had only moved to pelican town under the pretence of easy farming and a free house , spending many summers here as a child it felt integral to keep such a large part of my childhood alive and running even if I didn’t know the first thing about farming. It was hard work but it proved fruitful with end of first autumns harvest being a huge success and allowing me to have an easy winter making my jams and brewing wine.

Now the wine making definitely had ulterior motives, never being much of a romantic back in zuzu city but having met the town doctor my first spring here after (embarrassingly enough) passing out in the mines we ended up striking a rather lovely unexpected friendship. Harvey was similar to me a fish out of water in a small town but making the best of it we spent most town celebrations together and found we have surprising amount in common. With similar films and agreement in how things always taste better once pickled I’d even managed to coax him out to the farm a few times to act as a vet almost if I ever had a sick cow or chicken which I always repaid in wine.

But recently I’ve been feeling a shift in our dynamic , as the seasons go on and the more time I spend with him wether it’s all evenings talking over wine and watching shitty taped movies I had found in a box in my grandpas attic or just a brief hello to drop him off some coffee on my way to the mines our eyes seem to linger more. I feel more weight in his words especially his pleads to make me be more careful in the mines.

“I’m just saying, every time I have to patch up some horrible gash you got doing yoba knows what down there I get worried! I think I’m warranted to being a little bit worried about you from time to time-“ he says exasperated with how much he’s being having to drill this into me recently but what else can I do in winter than mine? I roll my eyes half dismissing him with a wave of my hand “it’s really not that serious Harv, I’ve never been seriously injured—“ “yet! You’ve never been seriously injured yet!” He cuts me off his gaze looked so soft and heart struck it felt like sad begging puppy dog eyes almost full of worry, it gave me a pang in my heart he knew how to get his way with those big brown eyes of his.

“I’ll try to be more careful okay? I just- I wish I had something else to put all this pent up energy into now! I’ve never just not done anything before I mean all summer I- I just don’t know Harv but I’ll try okay” this brought a smile back to his face as he nods , clearly appreciative , he has good intentions of course he does there is not a mean bone in that poor man’s body he couldn’t be mean even if he tried but there’s nothing wrong with that I’ve learned.

“Now drink up I still need to get your opinion on this crystalfruit wine!” ushering my hand up to insinuate he has to finish his drink which he hastily does as he puts up a thumbs up grinning his lips stained a gentle purple it was a nice look on him being so relaxed I had gotten use to seeing him like this. Flushed cheeks from the wine his green pressed jack hung loosely on the back of the rickety kitchen chairs that had been in this house for yoba knows how long his shirt sleeves gently folded up to his forearms. That was something that surprised me when I first got to know him ; how BUFF our town doctor actually is! not to sound callous but it was really something he always seems so much smaller in memory to in practice but I think that’s more so to how he try’s to make himself seem smaller usually hunching or sitting down the few times I get to see him for the beast of the man that he is , (6’2 but let’s be real people that’s big) is when I get to force him into manual labour on the farm.

But now looking at him like this I didn’t know if it was the wine talking but I felt almost flushed myself , I didn’t realise how long I must’ve been quiet just staring at him till he laughs an almost nervous laugh waving a hand jokingly in front of my face “earth to (y/n) ? Helllooooo—“ he trailed off but I cut him off with a small giggle shaking my head “sorry i just got lost in thought didn’t mean to stare—“ standing up quickly trying to play it off which only caught his attention more , it’s no surprise I’ve been feeling it all brew up especially over the last few weeks he just seems different every time I’ve seen him he gets more confident around me and it feels like it ignites some strange kindling inside of me making me realise oh shit I like Harvey.

Spending the first few weeks of finding out this deliberation I wanted to tell my best friend but having that also be Harvey was a bit of a struggle so I settled on spilling my heart out to the town poet who I assumed was a fellow romantic. Elliot helped a lot surprisingly with helping me be able to summarise my feelings and how perfectly natural this all was and how he probably likes me too and blah blah blah but this was different from all my other flings and crushes I’d had been involved in before this wasn’t just carnal it was something that was real with feelings something that made me feel almost nauseous with how much I actually enjoyed his time and presence.

“We’ve still got the rest of the bottle to get through— I also think I have some jam and crackers that would go nice with this make it like a little meal cause I don’t know bout’ you but I am definitely feeling it go to my head already”

Making my way to my kitchenette pouring another two glasses , I could hear Harvey approaching me it made the hairs on my neck stand. Glancing to look back at him he was leaning himself back on his hands against the sink just watching me, this made me noticeably feel the shift between us I could feel his eyes staring at my lips which only made the heat rise to my face.

“I don’t say this enough (y/n) but I’m really glad you moved here, to pelican town. You make places good” it was such a simple sentence but it made my stomach flip almost, it wasn’t even out of the ordinary for Harvey to compliment me but like this? Here? It made me flush a noticeable flush only drowned out by the dim lights of my cabin had it already gotten dark outside? He was usually gone by now but tonight I didn’t want him to leave.

Looking over at the glasses of wine on my counter I felt some primal urge flip in me almost if I was going to make a move it would be tonight grabbing one and chugging it I could see the confusion arise in his face before I pulled him into a hasty kiss. He practically melted into it which definitely upped my confidence wrapping my arms around his neck pulling him flush against me his hands finding a quick quiet comfort on my hips the taste of crystal fruit wine both stain our mouths but I didn’t care it tasted better on him anyways.

Pulling away for small breaths before going into another hasty kiss he half hazardly leads me to my sofa he knows my floor plan by heart now pushing me gently against it pulling away from the kiss “oh yoba— you’ve no idea how many times I’ve imagined this” he muttered in between rough kisses against my neck feeling his moustache against the sensitive skin I could only imagine what that would feel like between my thighs. I let out an embarrassing whine almost gently bucking my hips up against nothing which brought out a small chuckle from Harvey.

I had never pictured him being like this so confident in such a situation but it must be the buzz from the wine and me initiating it that seems to have given him such a boost it was a nice change of pace “you look so good like this, so beautiful” a soft murmur as his kisses grow more frantic tugging at my colour to go lower making me instinctively move my arms to hastily pull up my thick knit jumper happy I’ve had the fireplace roaring all night the cold didn’t shock me. He takes this as his opportunity to move one hand from my hip to my chest rolling his thumb over my nipple shallowly poking through the thin (rather flimsily made) bra his kisses going further leaving darker marks.

“Please— please Harvey-“ whining out he lifts his head getting close to my face again “please what huh? What do you need me to do? Use your words” I could tell he was getting off on the rather submissiveness of my attitude I’m usually so confident I don’t know what this man had done to me but I know he’s gonna take care of me “touch me need you to touch me so— so bad-“ bucking my hips up his hand leaves my chest going back down to my hips helping tug down my jeans hooking his fingers in my belt loops to give him more control flinging them across the living room. “Wrap your legs around me” he says quickly and I don’t hesitate to think otherwise doing so.

With a swift motion he sweeps me up feeling sturdy in his arms I can’t imagine the amount of times he’s had to drag me unconscious to the clinic but this is different , I felt so small being carried so easily. He gently pushes the door to my room open and making a beeline to the bed placing me near the edge, my legs still wrapped around his waist thighs shaking in anticipation he quickly strips himself of his dress shirt practically popping the buttons tugging off his tie throwing that elsewhere. His chest was broad and littered in dark brown chest hair trailing down my eyes couldn’t help eyeing up where it leads a very obvious tent in his dress pants. He looked good , so good , practically looking at him with star eyes only being brought back to reality when his hands wrapped around my ankles pulling me back towards him . I hadn’t even noticed my legs had dropped but moaning at the sudden sensation of him flush up against me I could feel him even more now through his dress pants as he grinned hard against me the two of us letting out desperate small moans.

I wanted to whine , wanted to beg , wanted to flip him over and take control being able to take him fully in me now but I could tell that wasn’t his plan and something about the way he was moving me himself taking so much control had me almost brain dead. He pulled away rather harshly making an instinctive whimper fall past my lips which he gently shushed falling to his knees at the foot of the bed pulling me even closer I felt my face flush with embarrassment “oh you- you don’t have to-“ I called out, in all my past hookups I’d never let a man eat me out , I didnt see the appeal of someone pretending to make out with me down there but all my thoughts rushed quickly out my head as he pressed a firm kiss to my clit making me almost jump out of my skin.

Of course he knows the anatomy down there ! He’s a doctor for yobas sake a firm hand on my thigh as the other hooks his fingers in the waist band of my underwear “I want too, huge difference”

Pulling them down quickly tossing them with the other pile of clothes he feverishly went back down his tongue found its home kissing and licking at my clit made me quickly arch my back practically letting out a howl ever so thankful the farm was so far out from people now his free hand lathering itself up in my wetness I had no idea where this all came from with Harvey. Harvey who got embarrassed teaching the safe sex seminar to the youngsters in town , Harvey who covers his eyes at sex scenes in movies , Harvey who started his very own swear jar for me. yoba knows what I did different with this wine but I am ever so thankful for it as I moaned and mewled at his lewd actions.

I felt short of breath my stomach felt tight I was clasping at his lose brown curls which only encourages him speeding up curling his thick digits against that beautiful sweet spot my thighs clasp around his head as I reach my climax which he happily coaxes out of me his fingers still fucking me through it my head felt dizzy I could barely think as I see him gently pull away a small smug grin on his face his moustache wet pushing his now rather messed up hair back he pressed a gentle kiss to my thigh letting me calm down a little “you did so good, we can stop if you’re too tired to continue” he says his palms gently massaging my thighs I carefully sat up to look at him shaking my head slowly “no I- I want to well- I want you please I can take it-“ gasping out as he gently nods in understanding slowly standing up from the floor “we can stop at any point okay? Your comfort is my top priority” he speaks as his hands unbuckle his belt finally sliding his dress pants off leaving him in his forest green boxers , if I was in a more coherent state of mind I would’ve made a witty comment about the leaf pattern that covers them making them seem almost juvenile but all I could focus on now was the bulge ever so prominent in them. My hand immediately finding home palming him through them making him let out a groan, I wanted to slide them off him take him down my throat I’m no expert but I’ve never heard any complaints but there would be other times for that right now I needed him in me, his hands hastily pull down his boxers throwing them in the same pile the rest of my clothes have been tossed to he was a lot more impressive than I was expecting even at his large stature.

He gently grinned against my entrance helping slick himself up, I was still embarrassingly wet from my previous orgasm I still felt the light headed thrill from it as he gently pushed in filling me to my hilt in one swift motion practically knocking the wind out of me. Peppering my neck in kisses as he started off with gentle thrusts moaning against my neck this was better than I could’ve ever imagined “so perfect” he muttered being practically drowned out by my own embarrassingly loud cries and moans feeling so vulnerable and exposed had never been so good.

All the build up seemed to have gotten to Harvey too whose now using one arm to hold himself up as he thrusts another rubbing my already abused clit to help coax another orgasm out of me “I know you’ve got another—another one for me darling cmon— cum on me want to feel you” groaning against me as he said this my legs locked around his legs tightened as I came him yet again fucking me through it this felt like a religious experience I knew the universe was right for sending me here in the first place now after this as this was so right brought out of my spaced out thoughts by the feeling of him pulling out finishing on my stomach his face flushed his chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath and his thoughts, glasses practically fogged up. He sat on the edge of the bed pushing his hair back again the hair on his back (scratch that his whole body) coated in a thin layer of sweat from the excursion he had just put out . Slowly catching himself he fished his boxers off the floor sliding them back on “ill— I’ll go grab something to clean you up with give me a second” he says I do a small nod too out of it to make the proper movement.

He returns a few moments later with a large plastic bowl and a wash cloth , the water was warm as he dipped it in wringing it out using it to gently wash the spilled cum on my stomach and down my thighs to at least make me slightly less sticky . His touch was so gentle now compared to the rough fucking my brains out attitude he just had this was the Harvey I was used to, attentive and sweet , he seemed almost to be catching up with himself now his face flushed “I’m so sorry if I was too rough I just— I’ve thought about how this would go if it would even happen so many times and I just lost myself I’m so—“ cutting him off before he can apologise I place my hand on his face shakily sitting up as I shushed him softly shaking my head “that was— that was so incredible Harvey I don’t even know what to say, just perfect”

This settled his nerves slightly as he nodded continued to wipe me down whilst admiring his handiwork marking up your neck. Hickies were such a juvenile thing to do but he just lost himself in the moment thank yoba it’s winter. He placed the rag back inside the bowl placing it on the bedside he lifted the duvet up and over me helping tuck me in pressing a kiss to my forehead “you’re not leaving are you?” I ask trying to hide the desperation in my voice , I didn’t want him to leave after that. He seems surprised but shakes his head “no no I’m just— I’m tucking you in, I’m just gonna go get you some water and join you” and he did just that placing the fresh glass on my bed stand and gently climbing in the other side I cuddle up to him like it’s second nature which he gladly accepted. This all felt so natural and it didn’t take long for me to drift off only being awoken at the crack of dawn by my chickens and cows stumbling around outside the pros of a free range farm. Feeling the heavy arm around my waist and the gentle snores I turn around to face a sleeping Harvey . He looks so gentle even more so than normal, it was nice seeing him without his glasses so at peace in his sleep, my movement (along with my loud animals) gentle wakes him, he smiles a bashful smile as he asks “how did you sleep?”

Ya girl idk what this was I was supposed to wash my work uniform but Harvey brain rot has cursed me!!!!!

[possibilistfanfiction]

Chef Au! A date night with fast food (chosen by Ava) and cheap wine (chosen by Bea)

it's not that beatrice's little chef outfits aren't simultaneously endearing and also hot, but when you open your front door and see her in sunglasses and a comfortable crewneck sweater, light, loose pants cuffed casually — although you're sure she was exacting about those too — and sneakers, you realize that you've kind of been missing out. or, really, maybe, she's a fuller person that you could've ever really imagined, only seeing her at her restaurant and a few vineyards nearby you'd tasted at together.

she smiles, a little hesitant, and hands you a simple, beautiful bouquet of lavender wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine. 'from my garden.'

'that's so gay,' you say, before you can stop yourself — but then she laughs and scratches at the back of her neck and you lean forward to kiss her cheek. 'i love them,' you amend. 'thank you.

she nods. 'of course.'

'let me put these in some water and then we can head out.'

'you can dry it, if you want.' she clears her throat, nervous and fidgeting with her watch. 'it's good for simple syrups and reductions. or baths.'

'that sounds dope. i love baths.' you wink and know she's blushing as you put the bouquet on your entry table — artfully cluttered — and then lock the door and turn back to her. 'ready?'

'yes,' she says, unlocking a practical and perfectly spotless electric small bmw suv, and then opening your door for you.

'why thank you, sir knight.'

she rolls her eyes and closes the door, then walks around to her side. 'where to, your royal highness?'

you grin, take her hand in yours while she starts the car. 'arby's.'

'fair enough.'

'i was going to pick panda express, but that seemed... weird?'

she laughs, which delights you. you don't think you've ever heard her laugh like that before. 'i love their orange chicken, honestly. but that's a god tier secret, okay?'

you mime zipping your lips and throwing away the key, which keeps a smile on her face. while she's driving, you get to take in the whole of her, greedily: her dark brows and the gentle sharp of her jaw, the soft buzz of her hair, the tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of her sweater, the freckles across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. and her hands: sure and precise, even just on the steering wheel. she's beautiful, and you're a little overcome. you count your blessings that you wore your favorite bralette and overshirt, wide-leg jeans that make your butt look incredible. your eyeliner is perfect and when you're at a red light, she turns and smiles at you like there's no one else in the world.

it knocks the breath out of you a bit, and you cannot start crying over how pretty a girl is within seven minutes of a first date; you thank your lucky stars when she fiddles with her phone and then some music starts to play.

'shit,' she says, scrolling desperately.

'carly rae?'

'i didn't mean to play that. i don't even know why it's in my liked songs.'

'here,' you say, and put your hand out for the phone because the light is about to turn green. you laugh when you see every single carly rae jepson album fully saved in her liked songs, and you take in the delicious pink of her cheeks when you look over at her with a laugh. 'well, emotion: side b is probably the best album of all time, so no judgement here.'

she bites her bottom lip.

'what were you trying to play, though? what did you think would, like, seduce me?'

'who says i'm was trying to seduce you?'

'well, the gay little flowers, for one. and the fact that you agreed to this silly plan in the first place.'

she waits until the next red light to lean over the console and kiss you — short, and gentle, and very sweet — and you revel in the feeling.

she backs away and turns her attention back to the road in front of you as you start to move again. 'is it working?' she asks.

you laugh.

/

you settle into her trunk after she parks on the overlook; she's put comfortable blankets and pillows in it so you can eat and watch the sunset, and it's tender and thoughtful and she puts a little fisherman's beanie on that softens her, even more, and it's all driving you a little bit crazy.

'well,' you say, after you both settle in with your chicken fingers, curly fries, and ranch — your order, which she'd promised she would eat — 'please break out the perfect wine to pair with the best dinner of all time.'

she nods very seriously, going along with your antics; beatrice is ultimately extremely serious in the kitchen, even if her food is playful: she hasn't gotten to where she is — one of the youngest chefs to be nominated for a james beard, among a billion other accomplishments she refuses to mention and you had only found out about through a recent write-up about the soft opening of her restaurant — without incredible determination and focus.

she's more playful than you had imagined, full of laughter and willing to be silly; willing to indulge the goofy idea you'd had for this date. she reaches around behind her and pulls out a small cooler filled with ice, then presents the wine with a flourish: 'only the very finest three dollar trader joe's chardonnay. it pairs wonderfully with chicken.'

her little posh accent and her genuine smile make the whole routine even better. 'that is... incredible.'

'you know,' she says, 'i've never failed an assignment.'

'now that i believe.'

she fishes out two red solo cups — which makes you laugh even harder — and unscrews the top of the wine before pouring it carefully. 'do you want to give your review?'

you go through the motions of how you would normally taste a wine, all a little exaggerated. you're one of the most sought-after sommeliers in the world: you can make or break vineyards and their yearly releases; you've been a part of a handful of opening restaurants that have won every award in the book. and, even with all of that, 'this might be one of my favorite bottles of wine i've ever had.'

bea scoffs. 'this wine is absolutely horrendous.' she pulls apart a chicken tender and dunks it in ranch, though, eats it without any complaint.

'sure,' you steal one of her fries even though you have a whole pile of your own. 'but the company elevates the entire thing.'

she turns toward you, the sunset fading orange behind her, turning her eyes gold. 'you make everything better.'

it makes you a little breathless. 'plus, you have to admit, these chicken fingers slap.'

it gets her to laugh, just like you'd wanted. just like you think you could spend your entire life wanting. 'maybe we'll put this pairing on my menu, then.'

'lilith would love that.'

'you know, it could be worth it, just to see her face.'

you scoot closer to her, talk about how her partnership with a local farm is going, how she's sourcing her cod from a fisherman nearby; you talk about your favorite vineyard, a tiny one tucked into the oregon coast — and those things are safe. those things are more of what you already know: she cares deeply about the earth and how her food fits into it; you want to share a stormy grey day and perfect pinot noir at a firepit with her.

and you eat your greasy fries and drink wine that is surely going to give you a headache in the morning. you talk about how she felt finally herself when she finished cooking school and took a job on the line, young and eager and fabulously talented, at a kitchen where she had support, where no one yelled at her, where she had a mentor that cared. you talk about the wine grapes you remember your grandfather growing in your small back yard, how you would eat them when you were small and describe the taste while you sat on your mom's lap. she teaches you her favorite word in chinese and you teach her your favorite word in portugese.

the sun sinks below the river, and you love her.

'do you — ' she bites her bottom lip — 'do you want to come back to my place? for dessert?'

'depends,' you say, and watch her face fall for a split second; you kiss her jaw to rectify that, 'what's on the menu?'

she huffs a laugh. 'i bought nestle chocolate chip cookies, for the occasion. they're in my freezer.'

'oh, fuck yes,' you say. 'i'm so in.'

'and, my company.'

'well, yeah, sure.' you roll your eyes playfully and pull her in for a kiss: cheap wine and grease and the softness of her skin under your fingertips. 'and that too.'

[cakerybakery]

It started like a lot of bad ideas, one drink too many and two prideful men unwilling to give up being challenged.

Lucifer lost the first round of darts, and the second, then the fourth, fifth, sixth, and he was pretty sure Adam just let him win the seventh to mock him so they switched games.

After the third straight loss in pool for Adam he demanded a new game. Slowly but surely they worked their way through every sort of pub game one could play that didn’t involve more drinking, because they both agreed it wasn’t fair as Lucifer was harder to get drunk.

They were tied up and basically there was no clear way to determine a winner when Angel smirked and said they should try a game of gay chicken. First one to back out won.

-

Adam clung Lucifer’s shoulders. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, GOD! Right there!” He panted into Lucifer’s ear.

He went a little limp under Lucifer and Lucifer took it as a sign he could cum at last.

Lucifer pulled out and cursed. “The fucking condom broke.”

“Ugh,” Adam groaned. “At least you can’t knock me up.”

-

“Here, Daddy!” Halley handed him his briefcase and Lucifer ruffled her hair as he thanked her. “Nooo! Papa just did my hair!”

“Okay,” he laughed and held up his hands to show he wouldn’t do it again. “Ready for school?”

“Yeah.” She twirled around to show off her pretty dress and that she had her backpack. “I got my hairs brushed, I brushed my teeth all by myself, I got my backpack. I’m ready!”

Lucifer nodded approvingly, “Then we just need to say bye and I’ll drop you off at kindergarten.”

She hopped around excitedly, telling him all about her friends and circle time, whatever that was, and that she got a sticker from her teacher for being helpful the other day.

There was a click from the door down the hall and Adam came out of the bathroom. “Be right there.”

“K!” Halley yelled a little too loudly and excitedly.

When Adam came back he was holding a very sleepy toddler.

Lucifer leaned in and kissed the boy. “Bye baby.”

Adam sighed, “speaking of.” He rested a hand on his belly. “We’ve got to buy better condoms.”

“The pregnancy test was positive, I take it?”

“Our little tie breaker.” Adam patted the belly with deep sigh. He hadn’t had an easy pregnancy yet and so far the morning sickness with this one was nearly constant. At first they weren’t sure if he had the flu or another bun in the oven.

Lucifer grinned. “Maybe it’s time to give in.”

“Not on your life.” Adam pulled Lucifer in for a kiss. “You’ll break before my ass does.”

“Papa!” Halley pushed her way between them. “I gotta go to school! Kissy with daddy later!”

She pushed Lucifer towards the door and he laughed. “You have to still say goodbye.”

Halley let go of him. “OH! Right!” She ran back and kissed her brother’s socked foot. “Bye bye, Ben.” Then she kissed Adam on the cheek when he leaned down for her. “Bye bye, Papa!”

“Halley.” Adam stopped her. “You want to know something?”

“What?”

“Papa has another baby in his belly. By the time school is over for the year, you and Ben will have a baby sister or a baby brother.”

She looked at him with wide eyes. “Can I choose?”

They both laughed at that.

Adam shook his head. “Sorry baby girl. Not how that works. It’s a surprise. You guys better get going.”

Lucifer agreed and gathered up Halley to take her to school.

He couldn’t believe it. A third kid. Well, fourth if you count Charlie. But she was grown and he more meant a third with Adam.

Honestly, he was starting to think that at least one of them was actually gay. And Lucifer was getting a little worried it was him.