#i was possessed when i wrote this

[laundrybiscuits]

(ETA: now edited and up on AO3)

Look. Eddie knows he can be a little uptight about these things, but. There are rules. If you become a vampire, you don’t need to go full gothic Count Von Dickhead or whatever, but you absolutely cannot just wander around in a puffy vest and light-wash jeans. 

“Why not?” says Steve. He’s leaning back in an armchair, sipping on a bloodbag like it’s a goddamn juicebox. “What, are the vampire police going to arrest me?” 

He pauses. “Wait. There aren’t vampire police, are there?”

“No,” says Eddie. “Probably not. I don’t know. But there are standards which you are refusing to uphold, Steven.”

“Thought you were all about hating conformity, Edward,” Steve says. He’s got an obnoxiously cocky little smirk, the smug undead fucker. 

Eddie grimaces. “Don’t call me that, asswipe. Don’t you feel, like—the call of the night? The siren song of life coursing through fragile human veins? A hunger for destruction that those paltry plastic bags of blood can never truly slake?”

“The bloodbags aren’t so bad,” says Steve, around the straw. “Better than protein shakes.”

“I actually hate you,” Eddie tells him. “Vampirism is wasted on you.”

Steve noisily slurps the last of the blood out of the bottom of the bag. “Come on, you can’t really picture me in some Dracula getup, can you?”

The problem, of course, is that Eddie really, really can. When Robin had read him in on the whole situation, obviously he’d been horrified and concerned—but also, a whole wing of his brain had immediately been cordoned off to work overtime imagining Steve in elaborate Dark Prince regalia, maybe leaning elegantly out of a castle window on the moors, gazing into the foggy dusk. Velvet might’ve been involved.

“...guess not,” says Eddie. It doesn’t sound incredibly convincing to his own ears, but Steve just shrugs and gets up to throw the bloodbag away. 

“There you go, man,” he says, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s the 80s. Vampires can be whatever we wanna be.”

———

It gets way too easy to forget about Steve’s condition, until Eddie ends up having to haul him out of a bar in Indy before they get banned for life.  

“Simmer down, buddy,” Eddie says, pulling him into the shadow of the van. “Let’s get those fangs packed away before any of the nice villagers wander by with torches and pitchforks.”

“I’m good,” pants Steve. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Eddie lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure, that’s why your eyes are glowing red and you’re, like, fully vamped out. Which, by the way, looks extremely dumb with the whole clean-cut vibe you decided to rock tonight.”

“Fuck you, I look great,” says Steve, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s not wrong, it’s just not relevant to how he also looks extremely dumb like this, wearing a pristine henley with fangs hanging out in the parking lot for anyone to see.

“So what the hell happened in there, man? I was finally starting to get somewhere with Todd, and…” Eddie trails off in dawning realization.

“Holy shit, am I—I’m like your territory, aren’t I? Your stupid vampire brain got all screwy and decided to loop me in with Robin and the kids as part of your freaky human coven.”

“Uh,” says Steve. He looks unhappy in a shifty kind of way. “Something like that, maybe.”

“Wait, so, are Nancy and Jonathan—are you okay with them because they’re both already in the vamp pack? Is Vickie gonna have to be inaugurated before she and Robin can bone down?” Eddie perks up. “Shit, is there a ceremony? We could totally do a ceremony.” He bets he can get the kids to liberate some velour curtains from the drama club. With a few candles, they could get some serious atmosphere going.

“No, shut up, nobody’s doing a damn ceremony,” Steve groans. “Vickie’s fine.” 

“Okay,” says Eddie. “So…you gonna tell me what all that was about, then? Do I have to start running guys past you first so your vamp instincts don’t wig out? Or…hm, maybe Argyle’d be down to mess around sometime.”

Steve lets out an actual snarl with weird animal echoes, then claps a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, muffled. The shadows around them seem darker somehow. 

“So I’m just not allowed to get laid ever again,” says Eddie slowly. “For vampire reasons.”

“Do whatever you want, man.” Steve’s still got his hand pressed tight over his mouth. 

“And it’s…just me?” Eddie peers at the tightness around Steve’s eyes; the way he’s scowling stubbornly at his feet. “Huh. Kind of…possessive, Harrington.”

“It’s—weird,” says Steve miserably, dropping his hand at last. “I know it’s fucking weird.”

“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs, biting down on the grin he can feel tugging at his mouth. “Lucky for you, I’m into that shit.”

“What?” Steve frowns. “You’re…”

“Always wanted a vampire boyfriend,” says Eddie. “Like, are you kidding? I would’ve sold my fucking soul at 15 for something like that.”

“I’m starting to feel a little objectified here,” says Steve, but he’s smiling, and he reaches out to snag Eddie’s belt loop and tug him stumbling closer. “Just in it for the fangs, huh?”

“Well, you’re kind of a shitty vampire, actually.” Eddie drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “So I guess I must just be in it for you.”

Steve hesitates, searching Eddie’s face. Stray red lights are still sparking like embers in Steve’s irises. “Okay, but—you’re in it? Right?”

“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Bunnicula. I’ll send the vampire police after you, just watch me,” says Eddie, and kisses him.

[mi-i-zori]

Breathe

CoD - Nikto x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : Nikto drinks blood like a starved beast.

WARNINGS : NSFW - 18+. Beware, this is kind of unhinged. Canon-typical violence, blood (Reader has periods - emphasis on period blood), Nikto (a warning in himself), blood/period kink (?), poetic smut, fluff.

Author’s Note : I have no idea why I keep using poetic sentences whenever I try to write smut, but hey. Guess its just how I am. A filthy romantic at heart.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Main Masterlist

Nikto licks blood off his fingers on the daily like a starved beast, savouring a taste he knows will never fully satiate his hunger.

It does not matter if the crimson nectar is his or not ; he keeps engraving its flavour deep into his mind. It leaves a warm, metallic feeling in the back of his throat - one similar to the one lining the surface of the gun that was repeatedly shoved past his teeth after its bullets were lodged in-between his ribs, the thick ropes circling his wrists harvesting his own, personal flavour directly from his veins.

Both life and death flow past his tongue, carving countless nightmares in the few hours of sleep weighing heavy on his subconscious - dragging a never ending series of shuddering breaths up his oesophagus whenever he wakes.

He can never escape them, for reality is just as bitter as his dreams. So he drowns it it blood, gunpowder and alcohol, turning away from the shredded screams coming from his reflection in the mirror.

Until that moment.

Your face is pulled into a grimace as you tell him about the way one of your stupid coworkers shamelessly blabbered about how dirty he thinks period blood is, filling your head with somber thoughts at the idea that yours is quickly approaching.

You don’t see how his eyes light up when they fall upon the date circled in red on the calendar of your phone.

And it is only when his lips meet your bleeding walls for the first time, lapping at the tears running down the inside of your thighs with a newfound reverence blossoming on his tongue, that the spectre in his head finally goes silent.

You look like divine absolution, he thinks, watching with rapt attention as moans flow from your lips like a holy river. Lust fills his mind, body and soul as he wonders if edging you further would allow him to taste the stars running through your veins. Would the world end up falling apart with you ?

The thought of the Earth shattering like glass against the echo of your climax fuels the fire burning in his stomach.

So he keeps staining his mouth red with your blood and slick. War-torn hands hold your legs still around his head as his fingers pull at your flesh, moulding it to his will - and he growls loudly against your core, the waves of a supernova bursting through your entire body as a new orgasm shakes the very foundations of your universe.

Is it the third ? The fourth ? The fifth ? You stopped counting a few seconds after his mouth first latched on the sacred flower blooming between your legs, too lost in the song of your own pleasure.

Nikto doesn’t need anything more to find his own release. He then crashes on top of you as you both fall from your high, lips sharing the last remnants of your erratic, scorching breaths.

He lays there for the rest of the night, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of your heartbeat - your divinity dancing on the back of his tongue.

The constellations lining your mind call out to him as he sleeps, flickering with the promise of finally carrying him away from the ruins of his heart. They light up his bones from below the thorns, and he would gladly sacrifice what is left of himself if it meant you could cradle them against your breast.

The warm softness of your skin soothes the pain still lingering in his scars, and he subconsciously cages your bare form in his arms as he drifts to the world of dreams.

He can finally breathe.

[everlastingrandom]

me when I get home:

my cat: you MUST‼️ let me sniff your hands and shoes. Even your head, sometimes, I must sniff. There are many foreign smells about you❗️I must catalogue :3 them in my mental repository I M M E D I A T E L Y meow

[odoraful]

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅, 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒔

being newly employed at wangshu inn has not been easy. when you're unable to conceal your emotions any longer, you call on xiao to comfort you in a time of need

content: xiao x gn!reader; hurt/comfort (but the ratio of hurt to comfort is like 60/40); established relationship; mentions of stress relating to work; xiao being very gentle; 2k

a/n: chat i miss him so much can someone call hoyoverse to get him back into the storyline :’( i wrote this in like one day because i was so overcome with emotion 🤧 so i apologise if there are any errors!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was no use. With each ragged inhale and exhale you took, your breathing just became shakier. What had Baizhu told you before? Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale for eight. Every gulp of air you took filled your lungs and burned your insides as you tried to hold it in. You coughed, expelling the air out, vision glazed by the tears welling in your eyes. Clutching your chest, you sank to the floor, using the bed to support your back. Fortunately, you made it to your room in Wangshu Inn, where the cumulative stress of the days and weeks that had formed cracks in your exterior had broken. Emotions finally flooded outwards like raging waters. 

The setting sun casted an orange glow in the room, basking the space in its warm light through the open door to the balcony. Though the heat on your skin provided some small measure of comfort, it wasn't nearly enough to dispel the numbness in your body.

You didn’t want to be here alone.

Your mind immediately drifted to one name. The one person who you could call, who had told you to call whenever you were in trouble. Night was quickly approaching. Perhaps he was already out on his patrol, or busy with other errands needed by the Yaksha. 

Selfish. That’s what your request felt like. But you needed him with you now. You would listen to his scolding about frivolous uses of his summons afterwards when your mind was less clouded. 

You uttered quietly. The word was spoken from just under your breath that you didn’t know if the name would even take hold in space. If the name would even reach his ears using whatever power the bond between the two of you had created. 

“Xiao.” 

In the instant the syllable left your lips, wisps of glowing green materialised at your side. In the millisecond following, Xiao appeared in the room, body poised for battle. Spear gripped in his palms, knuckles whitening, his head frantically whipped around the room in search of an answer to his question as he heard your call:

What man or creature had made the grave mistake of harming you? 

You looked up at him from where you were seated on the floor, his silhouette back lit by the sun. The tears that had filled your eyes rolled down your cheeks. Your mouth was parted, wanting to greet him but the words clogged up your throat. Instead, you offered a shaky smile. 

Not even bothering to disapparate his spear, it clattered to the ground as Xiao fell to his knees immediately, meeting at your level. 

His face was contorted with pain, as if he himself had been struck with a fatal blow. “Who did this to you?” He begged, holding your arm in desperation. 

Your heart twisted. You have never seen this expression on him, a mixture of fear and anger. Certainly not towards you, but towards your unseen assailant.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sniffed. It was all you could muster saying. 

Xiao shook his head. “Your apologies are unnecessary.” He said firmly, eyes trying to meet your shifting gaze. “Who hurt you?”

Gaining information was the utmost priority. He needed to know what had happened so he could protect you from whoever had threatened you. You wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks and at your nose which began to run.

“I’m not hurt physically.” Your pitch was too high as you spoke, a poor attempt at trying to keep the situation light. 

He blinked, confused. “But your voice…” His eyes darted around your body, looking for any visible signs of injury. 

You wrapped your arms around your knees, bowing your head. “I’m sorry for calling you.” 

Xiao leaned in closer to you, head tilted to try and meet your gaze. You buried your face into your knees.

“Your apologies are unnecessary,” he emphasised once again, tone softening. It was apparent there were no immediate signs of danger, but the situation was still unresolved. He decided to broaden his question: “What happened?”

You closed your eyes. Where should you begin? There wasn’t any specific event that caused this, but rather a build up of concealed feelings overtime. The fatigue caught up to you at this moment. Too tired to keep things together, to hold everything back.  

Slowly, you began to open up. Bits and pieces came out as you tried to recollect events in the past weeks. Things you have been holding back from your partner for a while now. You almost felt silly for telling him such trivial things. Mistakes that you continuously made at work, difficulties with customers, dealing with all the bureaucracy to reach the Liyue Qixing. Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you had to take some moments to even out your breathing and wipe away tears before you could continue. You didn’t look at Xiao, your eyes glued to the floorboards of the room.

He didn’t say anything, letting you speak freely wherever your thoughts led and listening closely.

Torturous. It was torturous for Xiao to see you like this and not be able to do anything. Worse than the weight of karmic debt he had shouldered for centuries. That same karmic debt had been lightened ever since you had gotten closer, and closer. Verr Goldet had been in charge of the introductions, seeing as you were the latest addition to the inn’s team, and Xiao was the inn’s long standing guest. He would never admit love at first sight, but your shy smile juxtaposed by your hearty laugh lingered in his head long after you had been dismissed to complete the day’s work. Overtime, your very presence soothed him. He questioned if he could do the same for you now. 

“You have been holding onto this for so long?” He asked, strain escaping in his voice. 

Every time you beamed at Xiao when he asked how your day was, it was all a cover-up. You didn’t want to put more of a burden on him on top of his responsibilities. 

You nodded, throat dried up from talking. 

Xiao moved to sit beside you. He rested his back on the bed, legs folded. Wielding weapons and fighting monsters was what he was undeniably skilled at, but he knew the subtleties of comforting someone were lost on him. He could not speak flowery words, or shower you with luxury like he’d seen some mortals do to their partner when they were feeling down. 

“I-Is there anything I can do to help?” 

If he couldn’t find his own way, he thought it best to ask you what you needed. You let out a choked sob hearing those words. Something so simple, yet so valuable.

Wordlessly, you grazed your finger against his hand, wanting to hold him. He turned his palm upwards in invitation. Your hand slipped into his, fitting perfectly in his grasp. Xiao was startled by how cold your touch was. 

“You’re freezing.” Concern laced his voice. “May I…” 

He turned his body around towards you, not crossing the space in-between just yet. He awaited your answer. You nodded frantically, needing him closer to you. Xiao released your hand before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him. You automatically threw your own arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His body was warm, so warm. He had probably been outside in Dihua Marsh in the afternoon, soaking up the sun. The stiffness in your body melted away. You inhaled and exhaled as deeply as you could, the pressure against your chest lifting.  You held him tighter, feeling the rhythmic beating of his heart that grounded you to this moment. 

“I thought you were going to be mad at me for calling you over nothing life threatening…” you murmured in his neck. It was close enough to his ear that he could hear.

He winced at your words. Him getting angry at you? Was that even possible for him? The fact that you thought you couldn’t call on him for any kind of help rocked him to his core. All the hardships you experienced were not unimportant to him. He knew that a thousand apologies would not be enough. He’d have to make sure you trusted him. 

“I promised I would come if you called.” He consoled, rubbing small circles into your back. “I am not someone who breaks promises so easily. Especially for you.” Those last words came out in a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. 

Xiao noticed the slight tremble in your body and realised sitting on a hardwood floor would not do at all. He slowly pulled away, just enough so he could see you, hoping that you would look back at him. 

“You should rest in bed.”  

Finally gaining the courage to meet his eyes, you found a tenderness in his gaze that was reserved only for you. Humming affirmatively, Xiao lifted you off the ground, an arm around your back and behind your knees. As he carried you up, you realised just how lightheaded you were. 

“Need to take…” your voice trailed off as you fumbled with the buttons of your outer clothing. 

He sat you up on the bed. Gently, he unlaced your shoes and set them on the floor. He unclasped the buttons of your outer dress and helped to pull it over your arms and head, taking great care not to hurt you. Peeling off the layers, the constriction eased further. For someone who proclaimed to be unaware of the nuances of mortal affection, when Xiao wasn’t thinking about what was the right or wrong thing to do, he seemed natural at it. Even the smallest gestures proved to be the right ones. He drew the covers over you as you laid a tired head on your pillow. 

Hesitantly, he swept some hair off your forehead that got tousled in the process of removing your clothes. You nuzzled into his touch. He held his breath. Hand stilled millimetres from your face. He continued to comb a hand through your hair and you softly sighed with content. Xiao made a mental note to himself to remember that you enjoyed when he played with your hair. Relaxing deeper, you found you could finally breathe properly. 

“Do not be afraid to speak to me. I will listen to anything you have to say,” he comforted. 

“Thank you.” You croaked, voice becoming lost. “And I’m sor-”

He shook his head. “Do not apologise, please.” His eyes pleaded with you. “I should be the one to apologise, for making you feel like you could not talk to me.” 

You opened your mouth to object, wanting to say that he was the very last person that should be apologising, but he continued, cutting off your sentence. Knowing how stubborn you were, perhaps he knew what you were about to say and didn’t want you to speak falsehoods, absolving his own responsibility in this. 

“You should save your strength. I will speak to Verr Goldet about your absence tomorrow so you can rest.” 

The argument you had fizzled out as the ache in your body set in, pushing you to slumber. Under the lull of Xiao’s hand combing through your hair, your eyes unconsciously drooped closed. 

You trusted him to stay by your side for the night, and he did. After you had fallen asleep, he went to close the door to the balcony to keep the cold air out. Bringing a wooden chair bedside, he observed the steady rise and fall of the covers. Disappointment at his own lack of awareness at what you were going through twinged within him. Past Xiao might have cowered at this feeling. Using this as an excuse for him to fall into recluse. But as he watched your peaceful form, illuminated by what little light remained outside, he silently thanked every Archon that you were safe and here with him. Tomorrow was a new day, a chance for him to ease your burdens. 

If you had been awake at that moment and seen the anguish in Xiao’s face, you would have cupped his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead. Your touch would be cold, but your lips warm and soft. You would have told him:

I called, and you came to protect me, like you always promised.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[akashis-waifu]

An Eternity of Mind Games with You (Aizen Sousuke x Reader)

Canon-divergence one-shot, set years after TBYW. Female reader is the Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough. Your first name is "Hana" for plot-purposes.

Tags: Domestic!Aizen with usual sass, wholesome, fluff, cringe but we embrace it. Immortal x immortal, enemies struggling with new established co-dependency. This might seem slightly out of character, but we've got Kyoka Suigetsu to blame. Contains spoilers on the ending of TBYW and CFYOW!

"Oh please, dear wife."

You raise an eyebrow at your self-proclaimed husband. The two of you have only been together for a decade as Lord and retainer — co-rulers, if you squint hard enough — after Aizen Sousuke tricked you into absorbing the Hougyoku, which apparently had long merged with his spirit. In effect, the man became a part of the Soul King and is now able to use your authority, as long as you agree to it.

In return, you get to wield one of the greatest Zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu. You see it as an absolute win, the Central 46 doesn't.

As to why Aizen insists that you two are husband and wife, he argues that "A system where a man and a woman govern together is called monarchy. And it goes without saying that a King and a Queen are married." He seems to have put the cart before the horse, a very uncharacteristic blunder for the renowned war criminal. You simply guess that the fusion might have caused him brain damage.

"I swear, I haven't used Kyoka Suigetsu for a long time. There is literally no reason for you to act delusional."

He feigns to be hurt at your words. "You are the king, I am the queen. How can we not be married?"

"It's crazy how you easily admit to being the queen now." During your ascension, you had to repeatedly remind him that the Soul King was you. If he insisted on his god-complex-driven monarchy delusion, the Queen would be him.

Aizen shrugs. "As the human saying goes, let me cook."

Chills run down your spine. Something is wrong. "Maybe I'm the delusional one."

"Took you a long time to realize."

A shattering sound awakens you. After adjusting to reality, you glare at Aizen Sousuke who has successfully swiped the two Heavenly Tickets out of your hand.

"Please stop using Kyoka Suigetsu on me."

He chuckles mockingly. "You have a funny mind, I can't help it."

You try to take the tickets from him. Those are your mode of transportation to Seireitei! "It's Rukia's inauguration today. We really need to go!"

"You can go by yourself."

"I can't leave you here alone!"

Aizen smiles. He knows that it is a matter of distrust — that he might destroy the Soul Palace in your absence — but teases you nonetheless. "What a caring wife you are."

"Is the illusion not over yet?"

"My apologies. I'm simply not in the mood to head to Seireitei today," he explains briefly, before turning around. "Feel free to go without me."

You watch with curious eyes as Aizen leaves the room. He has undoubtedly mellowed out compared to 10 years ago. Memories flash through your mind.

At the end of the war, you were supposed to absorb Yhwach, become the Soul King, and be sacrificed as the new linchpin of the Three Realms. If Aizen hadn't given you the Hougyoku that granted your divinity as the Soul King, you wouldn't have gained the authority to banish Hyosube Ichibe.

If it weren't for Aizen, you would've been mutilated into a thoughtless doll. You may not express it, but you are eternally grateful to him.

Standing at the edge of the Soul Palace, you stare at the boundless sky below. It is almost time for your departure.

"He tells me to go by myself, but he knows I hate jumping all the way down to Soul Society. He could have at least returned my ticket to me." You sigh and jump anyway.

Upon arriving at Seireitei, you use Kyoka Suigetsu to disguise yourself as a white butterfly. You dispel the Shikai after reaching the 13th Division.

"Hana-san! Ah, I mean, Soul King!" Kuchiki Rukia hastily corrects herself. She then invites you to a celebratory dinner and you spend some time with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

The party ends late. Rukia offers the Kuchiki residence for you to spend the night in, but you decline, worried that someone might wreak havoc in your palace if left alone for too long.

She suggests to escort you to Shiba Kuukaku's hideout, aware that you would need the cannon to return to the Soul Palace. Still, you refuse, "No no! No need. It's already late, Rukia, go to sleep. I usually disguise myself as a harmless butterfly when I go around Seireitei to avoid unnecessary attention. Don't worry!"

On the way to the hideout, you feel that you're being followed. You instantly regret declining her offer.

When Aizen finds you in the middle of Seireitei, you are already bleeding from a large cut on your torso. He rushes to your side and activates the Hougyoku to accelerate your healing. As if to laud his effort, you soon regain consciousness.

"Aizen...?" you ask, vision still blurry. "What are you doing here? I... I thought you didn't want to go."

"You're not adept at using Kyoka Suigetsu yet. An incident like this is bound to happen."

"I see," you chuckle weakly. "No wonder she saw through my disguise."

His grip on your shoulder tightens. "Who was it?"

"Candace."

"Candace?"

You cough out blood multiple times and reach out to caress his cheek, as if ready to utter your last words — which would be if he doesn't take the joke lightly.

"Can deez nuts."

Aizen deadpans. A shattering sound takes him out of his reverie, and he looks over his shoulder to see you fiddling with the tickets that he had previously hidden in his sleeves.

Of course, the whole farce was an illusion. He should've known since the Hougyoku grants instant regeneration. He sighs in annoyance. "I'd like to take the Hougyoku back. You're too insufferable."

"Is that a request for divorce?"

He smirks. "So, you acknowledge our marriage."

"Hell no!" You click your tongue, frustrated that he always has the perfect comebacks. "Can't you act normal for once? What happened to Aizen Sousuke, the war criminal?"

"You prefer that version of me?" He pushes his hair back. You aren't used to that sight since he always has his hair down when you're alone together.

You visibly cringe. "Stop doing that. What would you do if people recognized you?"

"We're using Kyoka Suigetsu. From their perspective, we are nothing but butterflies attracted to beautiful flowers basking in the moonlight."

You frown at him. "We're literally walking on concrete. Not a single flower can be found here."

"There is."

Aizen raises your chin, staring directly into your eyes. "Hana."

Too stunned to speak, you allow yourself a moment to think.

You finally understand why Aizen was so popular when he was still with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. His strength, intellect, charisma — the sultry voice and handsome features that you will never admit to his face — he used everything at his disposal to manipulate everyone.

It will never work on you, though. Not today, nor in a million years.

You are good, he is evil. You are yang, he is yin.

You are pure, he is corrupted.

The Soul King can never let Aizen Sousuke dye Her in his color, for that would mean the end of the Three Realms.

You give him a thin smile. "Would you like the Hougyoku back? I can hand it to you now."

"Oh, you jest." Aizen feels the sudden shift in mood and lets you go. That's enough teasing, he muses to himself.

With an eternity to look forward to, he doesn't mind biding his time. You are the Soul King, the strongest, most benevolent, and most dangerous being in the Three Realms. It goes without saying that you are the greatest challenge he will ever face. It could take hundreds or thousands of years — even millions — but he knows that you will submit to him one day.

It's not a matter of if, but when.

You extend a hand at him. "Let's go home, Sousuke."

But, he has to make sure you don't win him over first.

[leylikestoread]

if your telling me glammike wouldn’t drop the most cryptic bullshit on gregory at the most random times your a lair

[booksandothersecrets]

The View Between Villages - Extended Version by Noah Kahan vs The Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater

[ihni]

A moment in the rain

My last fill for @harringrovesummerbingo, square C3, prompt: "Wedding party ruined by a thunderstorm"

5,3K, general audiences, no warnings.

Summary:

Billy and Steve are at a wedding, when there's a sudden downpour. While the other guests scramble to run inside, the boys both decide to escape the rain under the same gazebo.

(On AO3 here)

Fic under the cut:

With about a hundred guests, the whole backyard decked out in flowers and decorations, a band playing live music and enough food to feed twice the number of attendants, it was a surprisingly grandiose wedding for a couple roughly a year out of high school, even if their families happened to be upper middle-class. But if one scratched the surface a little, one could see that there had been attempts at reducing the costs, and perhaps not everything was as fancy as it looked at first glance. The tablecloths were old sheets, the glasses and plates didn’t match from one table to the next, and the flowers – except for the bride’s bouquet and the groom’s boutonniere – were mostly wildflowers and picked locally. Besides this, Steve recognized the wait staff as mostly teens from the neighborhood, and the guitarist in the band was Tommy’s older cousin from Canada. Steve also happened to know that all the food had been prepared in advance by relatives and friends of the bride and groom over the course of the last week or so – he’d actually been a part of it himself, spending an evening a couple of days ago scrubbing thirty pounds of potatoes for the potato salad.

From what Steve could see, the only thing they hadn’t had a hand in preparing themselves was the wedding cake, which hadn’t been rolled out yet but which he had gotten a glimpse of in the kitchen – it was a square two-tier cake the size of a small table that looked like it was more than big enough to feed everyone in attendance. Steve was currently on his second helping of potato salad – seeing as he had helped make it happen, also it was really good – but he made a mental note to leave space for dessert.

The reception was held outdoors, in a huge backyard where Steve had spent countless afternoons when he was younger. In the middle of the lawn and in the center of attention, the newlyweds held court. Tommy looked more proper than Steve had ever seen him in a grey three-piece suit and a powder blue bowtie, and Carol looked like a dessert herself in a dress that had to have had more fabric than all the tablecloths put together. Both of them were radiating happiness, and despite everything, Steve couldn’t help but be happy for them. The three of them may not have been as close as they once were, but they’d made up after graduation, and as all three of them remained in Hawkins instead of leaving town like so many others, they stayed in contact and eventually started tentatively hanging out again. Steve had even helped Tommy pick out the morning gift for Carol – a small gold circlet, a simple band that would go around her wrist. Steve knew Carol, and suspected that she would cry when she got it.

Just like Carol’s dad and Tommy’s mom had cried in the church, during the ceremony. In all fairness, it had been a beautiful ceremony, and even Steve had gotten a bit emotional and had to blink away tears.

Seeing as they were in Hawkins, and considering the fact that both Tommy and Carol had lived in Hawkins their whole lives – just like Steve – Steve knew or recognized just about everyone at the reception. It was kind of nice, actually – like a reunion only a year after graduating. And he found himself thinking that it was a wonder what a year out in the real world could do. People who Steve hadn’t been able to stand at the end of the school year suddenly seemed more grown-up – talking about college or their work, rather than partying – and he had a surprisingly pleasant and only slightly stilted conversation with Debbie, who he’d avoided for a whole school year after a disastrous second date which ended with him throwing up on her shoes.

The less said about that, the better – a sentiment Debbie seemed to share.

All in all, it was a beautiful wedding and Steve was having a good time. He’d brought Robin as his plus one – knowing full well that it wouldn’t exactly stop the rumors that they were dating – but he hadn’t seen her since Heather Holloway whisked her away an hour ago. He didn’t mind, though, as it gave him a chance to catch up with old friends and acquaintances.

There was one more thing that the newlyweds hadn’t skimped out on, and that was the booze. Considering how they both used to party, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that there was a wide assortment of alcoholic beverages to choose from – and even though Steve had stuck to the (cheap) champagne, he was feeling the effects of it, which in retrospect might be why he found everyone he talked to to be more pleasant company than he remembered. Other partygoers did not stick to champagne, though, and people were already getting louder and a tad more disorderly. Steve suspected that at least one fight would break out before the night was over – which was honestly a staple of a good wedding in Hawkins, Indiana. He doubted that the police would be called, though, as Tommy’s uncle worked for the Hawkins Police Department, and he was already one of the loudest people in the crowd.

Eventually, the cake was brought out to the delight of the assembled, and the crowd cleared an empty space on the grass. The band started playing a slower song, and Tommy reached out a hand for Carol, who took it and let herself be led to the improvised dance floor. She had kicked off her shoes so she was barefoot in the grass as they danced their first waltz together as a married couple. The two of them were beaming and only seemed to have eyes for each other. Once more, Steve had to swallow against a lump in his throat and blink away tears as he watched his old friends be so happy together. He hadn’t even known that Tommy knew how to waltz.

A while into the song, Tommy’s parents, followed by Carol’s parents, started dancing too, which signaled that the dancefloor was now free for all. As couples started swaying on the grass – perhaps swaying a little more than planned, due do the uneven surface and the amount of alcohol already consumed – Steve extricated himself from the crowd and walked off to the side of the big yard. From here, right at the tree line, he could see everything clearly. The house, the people; all familiar in a way that made his heart feel warm, like it had been wrapped up in cotton.

The song ended, and everyone applauded. The band started up a new song – a faster one – to the whoops and claps of the crowd, and the dance had just started anew when the sky was lit up by a flash of lightning. The backyard was bathed in a shockingly white light for a fraction of a second, followed by a loud boom which seemed to shake the earth and rattle the windows of the house. People screamed and ducked before realizing that it was only thunder, at which point nervous laughter spread through the crowd instead.

Then the rain started. Up until this point, Steve had barely noticed the way the sky had darkened – had assumed, in the back of his head, that it was because it was getting later – but now he looked up and saw that the reason why it was darker was that the sky was heavy with thick grey clouds. Another flash of lightning struck somewhere close by, and the rain intensified from one second to the next.

Chaos ensued. People dispersed from the yard like cockroaches; men and women both snagged whatever they could off the tables and ran for the house. Carol’s aunts grabbed whoever they could reach and directed them to carry the cake inside to save it while the band scrambled to protect their gear against the rain. Meanwhile, the air was full of the rumbling of thunder and the sound of people shrieking and laughing as they fled the open space of the backyard. And in the middle of it all, alone on the suddenly abandoned lawn, were Tommy and Carol – laughing and kissing in the downpour, still dancing to music no one else could hear and getting their fancy clothing all wet.

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them.

But then it suddenly registered how the rain wet his suit and seeped into the fabric and ruined his carefully arranged hair, and he made a run for it, too. People were still cramming into the house, though, so instead he headed for the old gazebo at the edge of the woods, where he and Tommy had played for hours and hours when they were kids. It was run down nowadays and could use a paint job, but the roof was intact and it would be enough to protect him against the rain.

Just when he ducked in under it, though, someone else came running from the other direction to take refuge under the same roof, and in the flash of another lightning, Steve found himself facing Billy Hargrove, who he up until now had only seen snippets of in the crowd. They both stopped at opposite edges of the gazebo, water dripping from their clothes and hair – although Billy seemed to have gotten off lighter, since he’d come from the cover of the trees.

“Harrington,” Billy said as the thunder rumbled, one side of his mouth tipping up in a leering smile as he shook his head to get the wet tendrils out of his face. “Long time no see.”

It had been a long time, was the thing. Steve hadn’t really seen him since graduation day when Billy had sped out of the parking lot immediately after the ceremony. According to Tommy, he hadn’t gone back to California though, like everyone had expected – no, he’d ended up in Indianapolis, of all places. Steve had been surprised to hear it, since he hadn’t gotten the impression that Billy liked Indiana. But perhaps his dislike had only applied to Hawkins.

“Hargrove,” Steve said cautiously with an acknowledging nod, and watched as Billy’s smile widened. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Nah,” the man said. “I live in Indy now.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t speak as he shook his sleeves to get rid of the excess water droplets, and they fell into silence. It wasn’t really an awkward kind of silence, despite their history, because the rain beating down on the roof was too loud for casual conversation anyway. Steve twirled the glass he was still holding between his fingers, and downed it. He put the empty glass down on the railing and looked out across the yard, considering if it was worth it to cross the yard in this weather.

Everything looked grey in the rain, and the house was barely visible due to the downpour. Tommy and Carol had disappeared, and all that was left on the lawn were the abandoned tables and scattered and overturned plastic chairs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Billy come up next to him, but keeping a respectful distance.

“Nice party,” Billy commented, his voice more audible now when he was closer.

Steve couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but before the rain had hit it had been a nice party, so, “Yes,” he said simply, “it is.”

Billy huffed out a breath. “It suits them. A wedding party as stormy as their relationship.”

It rankled, for some reason, to hear Billy talk about Tommy and Carol like that, even though Steve knew that what he’d said was true. Billy hadn’t known them for more than a couple of years – what did he know? “You think you know them so well?” he couldn’t help saying.

Billy peered at him and then turned to face him. “You think you do?”

Which, as much as he hated to admit it, was fair. Steve had been the one to pull away from Tommy and Carol back in school, while Billy had spent most of senior year at their side. And Steve knew that they were still in contact with Billy, that they’d been visiting him in Indy a couple of times, even. He just didn’t like to be called out on it. But he wasn’t about to argue. The last time he’d argued with Billy, he’d ended up on the floor of the Byers’ house with a concussion. So, “Maybe not,” he said between clenched teeth and a stiff smile. He turned to Billy to say a polite goodbye, planning on making a run for the house after all – that cake had looked good, and he wanted a piece – but the words died on his tongue as it registered that Billy was shirtless under his suit jacket. Not just wearing a shirt that was half-unbuttoned, like he’d expected – no, there was simply no shirt at all.

He stared for a moment too long, because Billy let out a laugh and said, “My eyes are up here, Harrington.”

Face burning, Steve’s eyes snapped up to Billy’s, expecting to see a mean smirk or calculating eyes. Instead, he was met with a smile and eyes glittering with mischief. It made him want to relax and tense up at the same time, not knowing what to expect. “Where’s your shirt?” he blurted out, in a too-obvious attempt at distraction. He had to have been wearing a shirt earlier – Steve doubted that the priest would have let him inside the church if he hadn’t been wearing one.

“Someone spilled wine on it,” Billy replied, still smiling.

“And, what?” Steve said. “Carol just let you walk around with no shirt on at her wedding?”

Billy took a step closer so Steve could hear the purr in his voice as he said in a low voice, “Carol was the one who spilled the wine. Accidentally, of course.” He raised one eyebrow. “She was also the one that pointed out I couldn’t very well walk around with a shirt with a wine stain on it. She basically begged me to take it off. And who am I to argue with the bride on her wedding day?”

Of course. Steve wasn’t even surprised, Carol had always had a wandering eye – and even Steve had to admit that Billy was nice to look at. “And Tommy was okay with that?”

“Tommy had no complaints,” Billy said, voice low and rumbling like the thunder overhead.  “I caught him staring, too. Kinda like you, just now.”

The reminder brought a flush to Steve’s face, and he took a step back. Desperate to change the subject, he grasped for something, anything to ask.

“What were you doing in the woods?” was what he came up with.

Billy leaned back so he was half-sitting, half-leaning on the wooden railing, comfortable as you will while giving Steve his space. “Had to take a piss.”

“In the woods?” Steve asked, struggling to regain his composure after Billy had knocked him off-balance by getting so close and being so … shirtless and sultry. “Classy as always, Hargrove.”

“Have you seen the queue to the bathroom?” Billy cackled. “It was the woods, or piss my pants. And then I’d been without a shirt and pants, and then the horny little newlyweds would probably have ravaged me right there on the lawn.”

Pointedly not thinking about Billy out of his pants, Steve snorted. “You wish.”

Billy made a so-so motion and shrugged. “I mean, none of them would be my first pick, but it’d be rude to ruin their big day by refusing …”

Steve clenched his teeth. He knew he was being baited, knew he shouldn’t ask. He really shouldn’t ask.

“Who’d be your first pick, then?”

Fuck.

Billy’s eyes were sparkling with delight at Steve playing along with whatever game this was, and he flicked his eyes down Steve’s body, making sure to take his time as he dragged it up again. When he met Steve’s eyes, looking at him under his lashes, he bit his bottom lip and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy?”

Steve had to work to get enough spit in his mouth to swallow. Billy just stayed there, leaning back, watching. Waiting. His suit jacket was open, showing off his chest, still damp from the rain – or was it sweat? His eyes were hooded and his hair fell in messy curls over his shoulders, longer than they’d been when Steve last saw him. Steve wanted to grab a handful and pull, which was an insane urge that would probably get him killed if he gave in to it. Billy oozed danger; like a tiger in tall grass, waiting for its prey to get close enough to go for the kill. But it was a decidedly different kind of danger than he’d exuded back in high school. Back then, the end result would have been a beating. Now?

Steve was startled to realize that he kind of wanted to find out.

But playing along just to see where this would lead would be stupid, and dangerous, and Steve had had enough of being stupid and running into danger to last him for a lifetime. He much preferred to face the threat head on. Which was why he straightened up and stood with both feet steady on the ground as he asked, “Okay, what is this?”

It seemed to throw Billy off, but only for a moment. His smile faltered, but was quick to reappear. “What is what?”

“This,” Steve said, motioning between the two of them. “What are you trying to … What are you saying, exactly? What is this? Are you flirting with me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Doubt made him impatient, and he was a second away from stomping his foot like toddler. Swallowing against sudden bile, he huffed, “Cut the crap, Hargrove. We both know you hated me in school, so what the fuck are you –“

“What? I never hated you,” Billy interrupted, looking honestly surprised.

Which just added to Steve’s ire. “What do you mean? Of course you did! You were a right asshole, you were on my case all the time, wouldn’t leave me alone at practice or in the hallways. You beat me up!”

That elicited a reaction. Billy pushed off the railing and mirrored Steve’s posture, feet planted and arms at his side. Not threatening yet, but ready for a brawl. “Okay, first of all, you lied to me about my sister’s whereabouts after she’d gone missing, when I finally found her in that weird house in the woods with you and a bunch of boys. That was super sketchy, and I won’t apologize for what I did, back then. You deserved that.” Steve took a breath – to say what, he didn’t know – but Billy continued before he could speak. “As for the rest of it …” He shrugged and turned his head so he was looking out over the lawn. Another flash lit up the world, and for that bright white second, he looked uncertain. When the rumble of thunder followed, it almost drowned out his voice. “I liked you.”

Sure he’d misheard, Steve blinked and shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “I’m sorry, what?”

Billy took a deep breath, and pulled on the mask of confidence like someone else would pull on a jacket; he straightened his shoulders and turned back to Steve with a cocky smile that was too wide to be real. “I used to crush real hard on you, man. Guess I didn’t handle it very well.”

He was pulling Steve’s leg – it had to be a joke.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“But you slept with like, half the girls at school!”

“So?”

Frustrating! Billy was so frustrating. Was he seriously standing here, telling him he used to have a crush on Steve, and that that was why he was such an asshole in school?

“I don’t believe you,” Steve all but spat.

Shrugging, again with just a little too much flair to be real, Billy took a breath and turned away, as if to leave. “Believe what you want, then. I’m out of here. Have a nice life.”

Steve’s hand shot out before he could think it through, grabbing Billy by the arm to stop him from leaving. Billy didn’t speak, just turned his head slowly to look down at Steve’s fingers around his bicep. Then, just as slowly, he looked up at Steve. There was something wary in the way he looked, but there was steel in his eyes and voice when he spoke; “Didn’t know you were so homophobic, Harrington.” Steve reeled at what he saw in Billy’s eyes; words that were supposed to be a joke, which hid a threat, which hid … vulnerability?

He pulled his hand off the other man’s arm as if he’d been burned. “I’m not. Homophobic, I mean.” Billy watched him cautiously, and Steve babbled on. “One of my best friend is a homo. I mean, she –“ Shut up, Steve! “I mean, I don’t have anything against –“

“Fags?”

The word cut through the air between them just as another flash of lighting lit up the sky. They stood in silence while waiting for the accompanying thunder to pass – it took longer this time, so maybe the storm was waning – and when the only sound was the noise of the rain around them, Steve opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn’t. The silence grew to discomfort, and something in Billy’s posture crumbled. He smiled, sardonically, and looked down at his own two feet. “Great talk, Harrington. See you around.”

Steve didn’t reach out this time, but he called out “Wait!”, and Billy froze. “I don’t have anything against … fags,” Steve said, rushing to get the words out and not caring if the words were right or wrong. “I really don’t. I have friends who are like that, and, and. It would be pretty hypocritical of me, actually, considering my first kiss was Tommy!” His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath – he hadn’t meant to admit to that – but it worked, as in that it drew a surprised laugh out of Billy.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” In for a penny, and all that. Steve braved a smile and gave a one-shouldered shrug that probably failed at making him look indifferent. “We were like, nine or ten, and he was crushing hard on Carol even then, and we got it in our heads that no girl would want to kiss someone who didn’t know what he was doing. So … we practiced. With each other.”

Billy still looked guarded, but there was a small smile playing on his lips even as he said, “Kid’s stuff, Harrington. It doesn’t count.”

“Well,” Steve said and swallowed in preparation for taking the plunge. “We continued practicing until our second year in high school, so …”

That got a reaction. “No shit? You and Hagan?”

“Why are you surprised? You just said that Tommy ogled your bare chest when Carol got you shirtless. You have to have suspected.”

“Tommy being at least half gay doesn’t surprise me, I’m pretty sure he and Carol are plotting to try to get me into bed with them on their wedding night as we speak … But you! King Steve.” He looked honestly flabbergasted, but there was delight tinting the surprise. “You’re shitting me.”

It was a thrill to be able to throw Billy’s words from earlier back in his face. “I’m not, actually.”

“Huh,” Billy said. He didn’t look like he was planning on leaving any time soon. “How about that. The biggest womanizer in the history of Hawkins’ High … playing for the other team?”

“Now, now,” Steve said, holding a hand out. “I wouldn’t say that. I like girls. I just …” He thought about everything he and Robin had been talking about, and finally decided on, “I’m just an equal-opportunity guy, I guess.”

“Really?” Billy said, and looked almost impressed.

Steve felt warm under his gaze. “Yup.”

“So …” Billy said, and that mischievous glint was back in his eye. “Did you ever …” He made some lewd gesture, complete with raised eyebrows, “… with both of them? Tommy and Carol?”

Steve was pretty sure that the way he blushed at that question was answer enough. By the way Billy threw his head back and cackled, it was.

“Shut up! It was one time!”

“Oh this is too good! Wow! You are such a slut.”

“You’re the one to talk!” Steve said, but he couldn’t help smiling because this felt … this felt more like friendly ribbing than anything else.

Billy ignored him. “Oh my god. You should have brought that up in a speech during the dinner.”

Steve actually hadn’t done a speech. Instead he’d bought the happy couple a set of expensive kitchen appliances, and called it a day.

“Yeah, well. It’s not exactly something that one should speak of out loud in Hawkins.”

That had a sobering effect on Billy. His smile dimmed. “Don’t I know it.”

Their whole conversation had been a roller-coaster and Steve still didn’t feel all too stable in it, but Billy looked almost wistful – so much unlike the Billy he remembered from a year ago – that he couldn’t help but ask. “Is that why you …?” When Billy looked over, he made a face. “You know. Went out with all those girls?”

Billy exhaled and tilted his head to the side. “I mean, yeah. There’s no better place to hide than in a crowd.”

Silence descended on them again, but it wasn’t so awkward this time. And this time, Steve was the one to break it.

“So … are you also an equal-opportunity … player? Or …?”

“Oh,” Billy said, then shook his head. “No.” And for a second, Steve felt a thrill of fear run through him, suddenly convinced that Billy had been lying in order to get blackmail material on him. But then Billy continued, “No, I was never really into … girls.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, mind whirring. “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

It was weird. There must have been something about this particular place, and this particular moment. The two of them were standing in a run-down gazebo, rain beating down on everything around them and separating them from the outside world. It was like they were in their own little bubble, outside time and space. It felt as if everything revealed here was … safe. In that way, it didn’t feel real.

“Why are you telling me this?” Steve asked, softly. Because he suddenly had a lot of things that he would have to think about, but that question was on the forefront of his mind.

“Because …” Billy started, and hesitated. Like he wasn’t sure himself. “Because I don’t live in Hawkins anymore,” he decided. “No one here can hurt me.” His eyes flicked to Steve at that, as if to make sure that Steve didn’t mean any harm. When Steve didn’t move, he relaxed a fraction. “And because … I saw you today, and.” He cut himself off, looking down at his shoes. Scuffing one against the wood underneath his feet. “And I think I might have lied to you, just now.”

Furrowing his brow, Steve tensed up. “What?”

“I said I had a crush on you,” Billy said, and Steve had time to feel crushing disappointment in the split-part of a second before Billy added, “But I think that I still do, actually.”

And before he knew it or could react, Billy was in his space and his hands were in Steve’s hair on either side of his face, and that was Billy’s lips on his and –

– and time stood still. Like if lightning had stuck him where he stood, the world lit up with white light and electricity. Gone was the sound of the falling rain and the rumble of thunder, gone was the house and the woods and the lawn, gone were the whole world outside of this gazebo, outside of this moment. His heartbeat made its way through his body drumming like an army marching to war. Steve didn’t breathe, didn’t blink – just existed in this moment where there was only Billy, and Billy’s lips on his.

And then the world turned white for real and shook with a boom, and they jumped apart. Billy swore and ducked over the railing to check the sky.

“Shit,” he said. “That was a close one.”

Steve’s whole body was tingling, the hairs on his arms standing up. The air smelled crisp, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the lightning, or because of the kiss. Maybe both.

“We should …” he said, a bit shakily. “We should get inside. It’s not safe out here.”

Billy glanced at him, with a hint of apprehension that might as well have been a blaring neon sign pointing at his head. He was obviously nervous about Steve’s reaction to the kiss.

“You worrying about me, pretty boy?” he said, but his voice shook a little, as if he was struggling to hold on to the confident façade. And Steve marveled, because had he always been this transparent? He couldn’t believe he’d been fooled by Billy’s cocky attitude back in school.

“Well,” Steve said, and pointedly looked down at Billy’s bare chest. “It wouldn’t do to deprive Tommy and Carol of their eye candy on their wedding day, now would it?”

Relief, in the form of a smile. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Well,” Steve said, and gestured kind of helplessly to Billy. All of him.

The smile grew. “I’m staying at Motel 6 when I’m in town,” Billy said, apropos of nothing.

They both drifted forward, and were suddenly in each other’s space. The thunder rolled over the sky, but without a flash this time. The rain wasn’t coming down as hard anymore. The storm was abating.

“Uh-huh.”

“So I was thinking …” Steve watched, mesmerized, as Billy bit his lip; watched with bated breath as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “If you want to, you could stop by tonight … after the party …?”

“Yeah?”

“And we could …” He exhaled on a laugh. “Practice kissing some more.”

Steve leaned back, if only to attempt an insulted gasp. “You think I need the practice?”

Billy honest-to-God giggled. Fuck, Steve was screwed.

“I don’t know, Harrington. You don’t exactly seem to be a hit with the ladies these days.”

“Hey!” Accurate, but still. “I get around.”

“Uh-huh,” Billy said with a smirk. “You do know your date is a lesbian, right?”

That actually had Steve take a step back, mouth open. He didn’t think he’d let that particular cat out of the bag, Robin was going to kill him –

“Relax, I saw her smooching with Heather in the pantry after dinner,” Billy said, which – huh. Way to go, Robs. “And also, I clocked her on my first week in Hawkins. No straight girl draws boobs on her shoes.” He gave Steve a significant look. “Like knows like, I guess.”

Steve didn’t have time to answer, before another lightning lit up the sky – further away this time, though, and the rumbling of thunder took some time to reach their ears. When he turned to look at the house, he could clearly see the lit-up windows and the people milling about inside. When concentrating, he could hear music coming from inside, and he realized that he could only do that because the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Their bubble was gone.

“We should probably …” He gestured towards the house.

“Yeah.”

Not knowing what to say, he only managed an awkward, “So …”

Billy rescued him with an all-too-aloof, “So, I’ll see you later?”

Steve could feel himself grinning. “Yeah. Room 10, right?”

Billy matched his grin. “Room 10.”

“It’s a date,” Steve said, heart fluttering, and grabbed his empty champagne glass. “Now let’s get out of this rain. I want some cake!”

[adragonsfriend]

Jango Fetts’ armor rusts like a cybertruck if he doesn’t wipe it down after it rains, pass it on

[sysig]

Delusions (Patreon)

"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.

"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."

Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.

Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.

"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.

"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?

"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"

Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.

"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.

No, not angry.

Betrayed.

He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.

"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"

Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.

"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.

"Sir, I didn't-"

"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."

[ivanttakethis]

Sure I think Luka is pretty, but I also want him to die.

[nixie-deangel]

Hi, I hope you’re doing well, and that I’m not sending too many at once! But how about ✍🏻✍🏻🍼🍼🔥🔥

(I’m a sucker for some insecure Bradley, I can’t lie)

Hi Harry!!! Absolutely not sending to many! (if you want, or anyone does, feel free to send more! I'm actually making slightly more progress my stories because of these! )

(Insecure Bradley is like catnip for me XD)

✍🏻 insecure bradley - hangster

He knows this won't last. None of the things he wants or needs ever do. But Bradley can't help to still want and need it. To need Jake. To want him in all the ways he can. To desperately hope Jake could want him as well. To need him like Bradley does. Bringing his hands up, he scrubs harshly at his face as he lets out a self loathing laugh at the thought though. There was no way Jake would ever truly want him like Bradley does. To need him like Bradley does. Because really, beyond a good fuck and a few moments of fun, what good was Bradley Bradshaw to a man like Jake Seresin? Nothing. That's what good he was, nothing.

🍼 non navy bradley/fighter pilot jake as parents - hangster

Jake knows he's being an asshole. Knows he's being even worse than he'd normally let himself be. But what the fuck was he supposed to do? His little girl, his baby, was halfway around the world and sick. And he was fucking stuck on a carrier in the middle of the damn ocean when she needed him. When Bradley needed him. "You still being a bitch, Bagman?" Shoulders tensing, Jake doesn't turn to watch as Phoenix steps up and settles onto the guard rail he's leaning against. "Not now," he mutters, voice low, dark, just the barest bit threatening. "Yeah well, no one else had the balls to come make sure you unclenched your ass enough to get your head out of it."

🔥 virgin jake - hangster

Jake can't help but frown as he stares up at his tutor. "But wouldn't it make it better, if I were to learn how to please my vampire before I am given to them? Would I not be able to bring them more pleasure and fulfill my purpose better if so?" He watches his teacher's brow raise before they give a small shake of their head at his questioning. "No. No, I am afraid it is best if you do not learn before they are ready to teach you, young one." But before Jake could further question the man, the sound of knocking at the open doorway drew both of their attention and Jake couldn't help but flush as his eyes fell upon his personal guard, Bradley. Whom he wished he could give his heart, and body, too.

Make Nixie Write This Weekend!

[l3viat8an]

Nsfw content MDNI (repost!)

Honestly thought I reposted this one already- oops- CW: mildly dubious consent (not really but just in case!) Levi being mean and fucking you and using his tail, then being really soft in the end cuz I’m a simp-

Dom Levi <3

Who drags you back to his room already muttering under his breath, “Filthy fucking whore.” all because you spent the day with Asmo out shopping and having a spa day~

Getting to his room and he pushes you inside, closing the door and saying one word “Strip.” you look at Levi shocked, he’s rarely this bold after all- Levi sees that you haven’t moved yet and his eyes meet yours, “Did you not fucking hear me? I said strip.” you blink, still a bit shocked but start stripping “Yes sir.”

Levi’s eyes follow your every move as you pull your top off.

You can tell Levi’s even more upset then you thought because his demon form comes out as he strips, his tail swaying behind him as he gets closer to you, pulling your body against his and kissing you.

His tongue slipping into your mouth, only breaking the kiss when you need air, “You couldn’t even wait for me-” Levi’s grumbles, kissing ‘n nipping his way down your neck, biting a little harder and leaving a mark right above your shoulder. “-So you have to flirt and practically eye fuck Asmo over dinner!! You slut!” Levi snaps, pushing you so you’re bent over the cold edge of his bathtub bed, ass up, ”Levi I wasn’t-“ “Shut up!” Levi snaps again, his tail tip suddenly slipping into your mouth as Levi lines his cock up with your hole, “Just shut up and do the only thing you’re good for. taking my cock~”

And he sinks his cock into you, groaning out “F-fucking hell, how is a whore like you so tight?” All you can do is moan a bit around his tail that’s still in your mouth and rolling over your tongue “I bet you’re not even thinking about me right now!! You’re probably thinking or Asmo! Bet you wish it was him fucking you like the slut you are!” you try to shake your head but really can’t as tears poll in your eyes.

Levi’s pace is brutal as he fucks you, never shutting up calling you every filthy name he can think of “Bitches like you, just need to be fucked dumb huh? Isn’t that right?” you moan around Levi’s tail and involuntarily clench around his cock, “Ha! You really are a slut! Getting off on b-being called a bitch~? S-shit d-do that again~”

You can tell Levi’s getting closer as he starts whining a bit a muttering under his breath “S-shit need you to- damnit-“ pulling his tail from your mouth and your mouth falls open in another moan. As Levi’s tail slides down your body and to your clit. The very tip of his tail flicking your clit “Listen to me slut, you’re going to cum with me got it?” you whine but can’t form words. Levi bends over your back his lips right by your ear, gently nipping your earlobe. “I said, got it?” His tail speeds up and you cry out “G-got it! Y-yes Levi!” “That’s it, just like a good little bitch. go on then, cum. Cum now!”

and how could you not, with the way his tail moves and his cock feels inside you. You practically scream his name as you cum and you can feel Levi’s cum filling you up.

Levi stays bent over you for a minute panting while you both come back down to hell lol

Levi’s mind clears first and he gently gets off of you pulling out and watching his cum spill out “Whoa….oh!! O-oh uhhh MC? A-are you okay?!” you groggily turn and look at Levi “Bit sore.” you groan and Levi scrambled to get you into his bed and more comfortable, “I-I’m sorry!! I let my envy get the better of me!!- b-but you did s-so good and I-I- don’t think you’re a slut or anything I said!!” Levi peppers light kisses over your body and back up to your lips, before softly kissing them, “I’ll get us something to clean up with. You just uhhh stay here…..” You let out a little laugh “Believe me, I’m not going anywhere.”

[aerithisms]

i think the weirdest 2013 discourse brained doctor who take i've seen is people who came back to watch capaldi era, realised it's good and that they really like the twelveclara dynamic, identify all the things that are compelling about it but then say "moffat doesn't know he did this though." bc they can't budge from the position that he's a hack so they have to convince themselves it's, like, only accidentally good

[bloop-im-a-frog-now]

"Spread The Sculk"

Cub never does something twice. Last time, his little sculk possession had been fun, putting sculk catalysts in everyone’s base, and forcing the others to cure him. The addicting feeling of letting his body being control will never cease to amaze him.

But it’s over now. 

“No more sculk,” he tells himself as he does his usual early season routine.

The last time he told that to himself, he let the hungry desire of diamonds take control of him during a civil war.

He isn’t the weak-minded fool he was before. He can control himself and the itch of letting an entire hivemind take his body as a host and doing their bidding for them. Sculk is very last season trend, and he has no desire to do anything with it again.

It means nothing every time he went mining, he always managed to find some sculk veins or an Ancient City. After all, Cub is able to go back where he came from and leave the place for good. He doesn’t need to block all the entrances to where the sculk is calling him. It isn’t calling him.

Cub sighs. The more he spends in denial, the more his work becomes affected by it. Doing the custom fireworks takes him more time than he planned it to be. All that for satisfying a stupid itch and a growing curiosity of the calls. 

He decides to go down in his mines, one day, silk touch pickaxe and some golden carrots in his inventory. He breaks the stone that blocked the entrance to the Deep Dark and inhales the air. A strong odour of fermented mushrooms takes over his mind, and something Cub thought he had buried deep inside him resurfaces at the smell.

He accidentally places his hand against the wall, and almost jerks his hand away at the feeling of the sculk veins, slimy and cloudy at the same time, like bread covered in jam. 

“Just exploring, okay Cub? You’re just exploring, and then you’ll go back.”

A clicking noise resonated in his skull, and that is when Cub knew he will not just explore.

“Just a taste,” he tries to convince himself. “Just a taste.”

His heart pounds in his head as he walks towards the Deep Dark, towards an Ancient City most likely. He is both frightened and delighted to be around sculk. Last time, it had taken them ages to cure him. The vex had simply stopped pestering his head, though by the way Scar often smirks at him, he has a strange feeling his friend made a deal with them. 

Sculk is both a different infatuation and a similar one. Cub knows the sensation of possession, of giving his free will to a malevolent entity only looking out for itself. Sculk seems to take control of him in a way he isn’t used to.

And that excites him. 

The air he inhales digs inside his lungs, wriggling as if it was a worm looking for a place to plant its eggs. Cub does not feel panic. As he arrives to an open area of the Deep Dark, close to an Ancient City, he realizes his lungs are filled to the brim with not air, but cotton balls clinging to the walls. 

His mind now has one objective, and he welcomes the sculk in his body with open arms. You can never satisfy an itch unless you scratch it until it bleeds.

The tremolo of the sculk sensor sends shivers down each vertebra of his spine. His boots crunch the sculk veins, becoming sparse the more he travels in the Deep Dark. He was in need of a sculk catalyst. 

Sculk sensors click around him. He knows being careless could cost his life. As the shiver spreads to the extremities of his members, as something worms itself in his heart, he grins widely. 

“Missed this,” Cub mumbles to himself, silk-touch pickaxe in his hand. 

He closes his eyes, and hums. The sculk washes around him, like waves against a beach. Slow and mounting, whispering sweet nothing to his ears as he walks on the sculk, a smile growing on his face. 

The sculk calls for him, left and right, and he can only obey to it. He steps on the sculk veins, the clicks of his boots against the stone bricks matches the tremolo of the sculk sensor. 

Cub opens his eyes as a Warden spawns. 

Right in front of him is a sculk catalyst, all alone in the myriad of sculks. 

“Let’s go,” he cheers quietly to himself as he breaks the catalyst with his pickaxe. 

The roar of the Warden echoes in his ears, but he simply closes his eyes once again, and lets the sculk call to him.

He does not need to speak. Something squeezes his heart as his feet walk on their own, triggering more sculk sensors and creating more Wardens. The creatures can not hear him. He grins to himself as he lets go of the control of his body. The sculk silences his breath, slithering to his nose and covering his mouth with its viscous body. 

Cub can no longer breath, but he is not worried. Its tendrils give him the bare minimum of oxygen he needs to survive, but he knows he is much more useful as a host than a body that has free will. His grin doesn’t come undone as the sculk pulls his legs forward, out of the Deep Dark, away from the Wardens searching for who had awakened them from their slumber. 

Sculk has limitations. It can not carry Cub above the mines, but he does not need them to. Determinedly, he walks to the surface, close to his base, and places the sculk catalyst right at his front door. 

“Time to spread it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps on the catalyst. 

Immediately, sculk veins burst out of the catalyst and turns the grass to sculk. Cub softly laughs to himself as the sculk takes over his legs, over his body and forces him to jump over and over again on the sculk catalyst. 

It will spread to Etho’s base, which will spread to Tango’s base, which will spread to Cleo’s base. 

A tremolo greets his jumping, like a cat purring, but it isn’t a purr. It is a laugh, echoing in Cub’s head, becoming louder and louder the more he jumps. His legs become as heavy as lead. He is no longer the one jumping, but he doesn’t care. His thoughts are swallowed by the laughter, and he pants for air the more the weight of exhaustion crushes his body.

The tendrils in his heart squeeze the organ again, to make it skip a beat before wrapping around his lungs. Cub laughs hysterically.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he wheezes out. “Take me with you.”

His mind flashes memories of the vex possession. The laughter morphs into their cackling, and Cub’s heart wells.

It feels like home.

“Master,” he lets out.

His vision turns black and faintly, he hears something snap, like a footstep breaking a twig. 

With his thoughts no longer existing, he does not become aware the sculk broke both of his legs, letting him lie there in it. The addicting feeling of giving your freewill to a parasite has carved itself a warm hole into Cub’s brain. 

He never left the sculk. The sculk never left him.

[youngpettyqueen]

ummm um fic recs….in a horrible turn of events garak and bashir have to babysit the ds9 kids?

ive been wracking my brains over how Garak and Julian would end up babysitting a bunch of the kids and I had a hard time figuring out something that would work with Jake and Nog, since theyre older and dont really need a babysitter, so I went with them babysitting Molly and Yoshi! I hope that's alright <3

Garak isn't sure what to expect when he the door to the O'Briens quarters slides open. All he knows is that Julian told him to come, and his only answer to Garak's many questions was to repeat himself with a don't ask just do it tone.

So, Garak had. He'd come. In the middle of the work day, something he's not planning on letting the Doctor forget. He'd come, and he steps inside as the door slides open, and he doesn't know what he was expecting to find here, but it certainly wasn't... this.

Julian is sitting on the floor by the coffee table, the infant Kirayoshi cradled securely in one arm. He also has what appears to be a plastic crown on his head, which is several sizes too small, and perches awkwardly atop his hair. The older of the O'Brien offspring, Molly, is sitting beside him, in what Garak would guess is a human princess costume, all shiny fabric and very, very pink.

Garak comes to pause, considering the scene before him. There are little plastic teacups and plates set out. A few larger plush toys are also around the table, with teacups and plates of their own. It's quite the little set up.

"Good morning, Doctor. Molly," He greets, turning a quizzical raised brow on Julian, "Might I ask why I was called here?"

Julian gives him a look that is very, very tired. "Good morning, Mr. Garak," He replies, "You were called here because you have been invited to Princess Molly's tea party." He informs him.

"Tea party?" Garak echoes.

"I'll explain later," Julian tells him, "Just come sit." He gestures to an open space at the other end of the coffee table.

"Wait!" Molly pipes up, quickly standing. Julian winces at her volume, quietly shushing her as he looks at Kirayoshi, who appears to be sleeping. Garak turns his attention to the child, who holds her head up high and informs him, "You have to bow first."

Garak considers her for a moment. He catches Julian stop himself from laughing in the corner of his eye. Of course, Garak knows about royalty systems, so he knows what a princess is. And he can't imagine himself bowing to one, but Molly has a very stern look on her very little face, and he has a feeling he's in for a fight if he doesn't comply.

He bows. Dramatically, with a flourish. Molly giggles, and the sound is... pleasing.

"Thank you for the invitation, Princess," Garak bids her, continuing to play along as he straightens himself, "May I...?" He gestures to the open seat.

Molly, to his surprise, shakes her head. "Not there," She tells him, "You have to sit with Uncle Julian. Miss Flutterhooves will move." She gestures at the plush sitting on Julian's opposite side- an equine, if he remembers his Earth animals correctly, except this one is... purple, and it has a shiny silver horn protruding from its forehead.

He goes with it. Why not, at this point? He's clearly not getting out of this. "Of course," He says agreeable, stepping closer. Since the plush toy can't move, for obvious reasons, he gently picks it up, "Pardon me, Miss... Flutterhooves," He shoots Julian a quick glance, who nods approvingly, and he proceeds with moving the toy to the open spot at the end of table, and then going to take his own seat beside Julian. He shuffles in as much as possible, awkwardly crossing his legs and trying to keep his knees from tucking under the table, "There we are. This is... very lovely." He compliments as he settles into a somewhat-comfortable position.

"Very lovely," Julian agrees, looking at Molly, "You've done a wonderful job, Princess Molly."

Molly gives Julian a pleased little smile. "Thank you!" She squeaks. Then she suddenly perks up again, like she's heard something, "Oh! I have to go get the tea. It's done sleeping." She stands and, tucking up her skirts like a proper lady, she hurries off to go and... wake the tea, apparently.

"Steeping," Julian offers, as Garak gives him a confused look, "She means steeping."

Garak nods. That doesn't explain... anything else that's going on here. "Tea party?" He asks. Again.

"An old Earth game, of sorts," Julian replies, "Human children commonly pretend to hold tea parties, usually with their parents and their toys involved. Hence," He gestures around the table with his free hand, "All this."

"I see," Garak says, "And I was invited, why...?"

Julian suddenly won't make eye contact. "Molly insisted," He tells him, quick and clearly not the entire truth, "And I just got Kirayoshi to sleep for the first time all day, so I wasn't about to risk Molly getting upset and waking him," He does look at Garak again, this time with a surprising amount of desperation for a man sitting in front of a plastic teacup, with a plastic crown on his head, "He cried for three. Hours. Garak." He stresses each word, exhaustion and desperation oozing from every syllable.

Garak knows of the infant's tendency towards tears. He has no idea how Kirayoshi manages to wail for so long, considering how tiny his lungs are, but he's been able to hear the shrieking from across the promenade.

"I'm not sure the Chief would approve my being here," He points out, "Or Mrs. O'Brien, for that matter."

"I won't tell if you won't. Just play along," Julian implores him, "That's all I ask, just play along. Molly is very sweet, and also very stubborn, and I promise you I'll make it up to you if you just humour her." He's very nearly begging.

Garak has seen Julian less desperate in active crisis situations. He sighs, making a point to be melodramatic about it. "Very well, my dear," He agrees, "I suppose I can find it in myself to play along with the whims of a little girl. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Don't invite that on yourself," Julian warns, "You haven't seen her when she's cranky."

At that moment, Molly returns. In her hands she carries a teapot that matches her teacups, and she proudly brings it to the table and sets it down in the middle of everything. "Ta-da!" She announces, prompting Julian to gently shush her again, "Tea time!" She does not heed his shushing, "Want the first cup, Uncle Julian?" She asks, holding the pot out to him.

Just like that, Julian is smiling again. "I would love the first cup, Princess Molly," He says. He holds the teacup up, and it's comically small in his hand, "Thank you very much."

Molly tips the teapot forward. No actual tea comes out. Still, she holds it like that for a few seconds, before she tips it back. "There you go!" She chirps. Right, pretend. She turns her smile on Garak, and offers him the pot, "Tea?"

Garak delicately picks the teacup up by the handle, which he has to pinch between two claws. "I would be honoured," He says, laying it on thick. Molly pours the pretend tea into his cup, and he gives her his most winning smile, "Thank you, Princess."

Molly goes around the table, pouring tea for the other guests. Garak resists the urge to comment on the teapot apparently being bottomless, and instead glances at Julian. "Uncle Julian?" He questions, an amused smirk curling on his face.

"I'm her favourite uncle." Julian grins.

"I'm sure," Garak murmurs. Molly retakes her seat, and he turns to her, "Ah, Princess, allow me," He reaches across the table to take the teapot, and he pours her her own cup. He's not sure of the exact method to this, but he counts to 3 and then stops, and she looks satisfied, "Could I ask you a question, Princess?" He asks as he sits back, setting the pot down.

"First, cheers," Molly insists. She thrusts her cup up into the air, and Julian raises his, so Garak follows their lead. They clink their little teacups together- literally, "Clink!" She says.

"Clink." Julian echoes.

"Clink," Garak adds. Then Molly sips, and so does Julian, so he follows. When that's done, he inquires, "May I ask my question now?" Molly nods, and he smiles, "Ah, thank you. Yes, my question is, what made you invite me to the tea party, Princess Molly?"

Molly sets her teacup down. "For Uncle Julian." She replies.

Garak can see Julian looking pointedly away from him in his peripheral. "I see," He says, "And why was I invited for Uncle Julian?" He follows up.

"Cause you're married." Molly replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the Quadrant.

Julian chokes on nothing. Garak's eyes widen. "Married?" He echoes. He turns to Julian, who's gone a truly impressive shade of red, right up to the tips of his ears, "Married?" He repeats.

"Yeah!" Molly says, apparently an expert on the subject, "That's what grown-ups do when they're in love! Like my mommy and daddy. You," She points at Garak, "And Uncle Julian are in love, so you're married."

"She's 5." Julian hisses under his breath, just loud enough for Garak to hear.

Garak needs to take a deep breath. He's not often truly caught off guard, but that... he feels like he's just been knocked flat on his back. Alright. Married. He can go along with that. He's certainly gone along with far worse things.

Suddenly he understands Julian's exhaustion and desperation a few moments prior.

"Well, it was... very polite of you to invite me, Princess," He manages to get out, trying to slot back into his role here, "It's nice to spend time with my... husband." That makes Julian turn even redder. He looks like he's about to start glowing.

"Mommy and daddy wanted together-time today," Molly tells him, looking oh-so-serious for a girl of 5 years old, "So you and Uncle Julian probably want together-time, too. That's what married grown ups want." She explains.

Garak can't help but chuckle. "You're very wise," He says. Because she isn't... wrong. When it comes to him and Julian, at least, "I did want together-time with Uncle Julian today." He admits. They were supposed to see each other for lunch today, but then Julian got called away to babysit the O'Brien children, so it was to be rescheduled. And, soft as it makes him, those lunches are truly about... the only thing he looks forward to, so, yes. He did want together-time, as she put it, with Julian.

Molly glances at Julian, and then she leans over the table. "He did, too," She whispers, except it's very loud, and Julian can obviously hear her, "He told me he missed your lunchtime."

Garak glances at Julian, who's again very much not looking at him. He can't help but melt, just a bit, just enough to soften up. "Did he now?" He hums, "Well, that's alright. We have this tea party, don't we?" He puts his hand on the table, holding it out to Julian.

Julian looks at his hand. Then looks up at him, all round eyes and surprise. And then he smiles, all warm and affectionate. "That we do." He says, taking Garak's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Ew," Molly pulls a face, "You're being gross like mommy and daddy."

Julian snorts a laugh. Garak chuckles. They let go of their hands and go back to their teacups, following Molly's lead as she sips at air again. Then she insists on refilling their cups, and they sit back and let her.

Julian's hand finds his on the floor. Garak takes it, brushes his thumb over Julian's knuckles. They exchange a private look, a small smile, Julian still red in the cheeks.

Maybe this isn't such a bad way to spend an afternoon, after all.