#the cobs are probably freezing

[unch4rted-territ0ry]

The poor cobs in the field

It's all frozen-frosted over

[numberonetacostan]

ONE HEADCANON FOR EVERY II CHARACTER!

Hello everyone!!!!!^^ For a little holiday season special, I’ve typed out a little headcanon for every character!!! By character I mean contestants + host + assistants!!!!! Sorry to all the Nick Le fans out there, he is not included. Since everyone is here, there are characters I may not know as well as my main roster, so if I get anything like, objectively wrong, feel free to let me know!!!^^ Please enjoy!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Apple- Her favorite song is Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. She doesn’t really understand the lyrics but she really likes ponies!!!! I also think she’d start misspelling her name as “Appell” pretty often after she finds the song. 

Balloon- The first thing Suitcase does with her prize money is buy him a poetry book. He is so very moved by this and writes her dozens of poems with various styles he sees in the book within a few days. He’d read from the book and his own works to Suitcase every night before they go to bed. Some others could join in for a nice bedtime story :). 

Baseball- Once, while the hotel was under construction, Baseball fell down the stairs. And then kept rolling. And rolling. And bouncing. And rolling some more. Overall it set construction back two weeks and Paintbrush broke their leg trying to help stop him. Baseball was banned from the hotel until the elevators were finished. 

Bomb- He can’t eat spicy food. As in he’s banned from eating spicy food. If he gets too hot, he can accidentally set himself off, so despite his claim that he has a great spice tolerance, he is not allowed anywhere near the hot sauce. He doesn’t complain about the ban anymore post-canon, too risky, yeah? 

Bow- She watches so very many makeup tutorials, but being a ghost, can’t practice any of it on herself. That is, unless she possesses someone, like Marsh who would be very easy to put makeup on relative to other objects!!! She’d probably get pretty good at it, after some time, and Marsh would have some lovely new eyeshadow looks every day! 

Knife- He has a longer ghost tail than Dough and Bow do, so I propose him wrapping said tail around people and things he likes!!! Wraps around Pickle when they’re standing next to each other, wraps around Suitcase’s handle when they’re together, etc.!!! He’d get rather flustered if anyone called him out on it. 

Lightbulb- Gives incredible hugs. Incredible. How does an object made of glass and metal give such cuddly, warm hugs? Nobody knows. Sometimes she’ll turn herself on during the hug to make it extra warm!! As long as the person she’s hugging closes their eyes, it really elevates the already sacred experience of a Lightbulb hug. Luckily for everyone else, she is always happy to give one!^^

Marshmallow- She’s still pyrophobic after having been burnt all those years ago. As a very flammable marshmallow, fire would be scary to her anyways, but after having been roasted it’s a whole other story. She’d rather freeze than get close to a fire, but that’s not a problem since there’s a certain fruit always willing to warm her up with a hug <3!!

Nickel- He became very, very, very nervous to give his apology to Suitcase after she blew up Cobs and ate his corpse. He was planning to apologize either way, but clearly Suitcase could absolutely obliterate him if she wanted to do so, which means this apology has to be quite good or else. He has a serious amount of respect for her now. An upgrade, I’d say. 

OJ- His favorite Pokémon is Charizard. It’s orange, it’s very popular, OJ loves it. I know Justin has made a list of the contestant’s favorite Pokemon, but I have not read it in a while so Charizard it is!!!

Paintbrush- Experiments a lot with their image after season 3, mostly by dyeing their bristles with paint!!! Lightbulb helps :3!!! And by helps I mean makes it silly and very fun. Maybe she puts a little dot between Painty’s eyes to give them a “nose”. I think they’d try a solid color first, then maybe a fade, and eventually dye the nonbinary flag into their hair!!! They slay it of course. 

Paper- Pickle once wrote “Property of OJ” on Paper’s back and he didn’t notice for three days. No one told him it was there. When he asked everyone why in the world they would not inform him they said it was because they all thought OJ had written it and he was keeping it because he liked it. OJ did not know why Paper avoided eye contact with him for a week that one time but he did not like it. 

Pepper- Hotel OJ head chef. Yeah you heard me. Let me cook by letting her cook!! Salt wouldn’t like cooking, too much work, so this is something Pepper could enjoy on her own!! And it would be the sole reason that OJ has not yet kicked Salt out of the hotel- if he does than Pepper might be too sad to cook, and with the depressingly low amount of hotel residents that can make food, and the even smaller amount who are willing to make enough food for everyone, they need her. And, if Payjay help out, they can spend more time with her and get to know and enjoy her presence without Salt ruining it!

Pickle- With some help from Tea Kettle and Pepper, he makes Knife a new Dora doll post-finale, since it vanished with the rest of the stuff made by MeLife. He lets Knife possess him if he wants to hug the doll, but it also gets possessed by Knife so he can hug Pickle. Ah shit sorry my Knickle got all over the headcanon dang it. 

Salt- I headcanon her as the only cisgender, straight, alloromantic (I think that’s the right term?) member of the cast. Basically the only one who isn’t queer at all. But uh an actual headcanon for the ~60 or so Salt fans out there, both she and Pepper sleep with those little hair bonnets on to keep their salt and pepper from falling out of their heads in their sleep. 

Taco- This one is fitting for the winter season!! Taco is afraid of snow. Like, straight up terrified. I think she would grab a bunch of blankets and hide in the vents of the mansion whenever it snows, so she can be inside of the inside, as far and safe from the snow as she can be!! Having been homeless for years, she’s had some miserable experiences with hypothermia after it snows, and now that she has a home to live in, she’ll be staying inside until all the snow has melted. 

Mephone- I think he should have a pet bug post-canon. A little beetle or something that just chills on his head and feasts on the many crumbs he gets on himself while he eats. An intelligent one, like Baxter!!! Since we know Mephone will be stepping up into the more ‘big brother’ sort of role for 3GS, I think the bug would be a good outlet for Mephone to talk about his more intense feelings, specifically revolving around Mepad and the contestants. I also think, following his very creative naming of the contestants, the bug would be named Buggy. 

Box- I think she would be an insomniac. After years and years of living in an empty, timeless void-space thing, she’d have a lot of trouble getting to sleep!! She’d definitely need the whole works, warm milk, cheese, lullabies, etc., etc., just to get to sleep, and even then she probably wouldn’t sleep for very long. A lot of nightmares on this one, yeah? 

Cheesy- I think he’d actually quite enjoy eating cheese, as long as it’s not a chunk like he is. He’ll eat nachos, pizza, mozzarella sticks, grilled cheese, etc., etc., but he will not eat cheese cubes. He’d make approximately 5 cannibal jokes every time he does this, and this average goes up to 8 if Pickle is around. 

Cherries- They give Toilet their old Mepad mask post-canon, to try and make him feel better. Toilet might hang out with them a bit more after this- they can do some drawing together!! The more prank-buddies, the merrier, yeah? 

Dough- He eventually did get the recording of Bow saying that he was her brother!! Was it a cut-off version of her denying it yet again (though this time more playfully than anything)? Yes. Does that make him any less happy about having it? No. 

Fan- Out of everyone, he’s the most upset about II ending, and wants to find a new special interest!! He’d try a whole bunch of things, games, music, movies, TV shows, art, and I think it would be funny if he settled on the ii-universe equivalent of Survivor, since it was such a big inspiration for II!! He’d also occupy himself with being very interested in whatever Test Tube is doing and cheering her on!!! Also being a good Dad to Bot!!^^

Microphone- Has, on occasion, accidentally had her volume button pressed in her sleep and woke not only herself but everyone in the vicinity up with her snoring. The first time it happens post-canon it takes her a half-hour to get a very startled and scared but very sleepy and confused Taco to come out from her hiding spot under the bed. 

Soap- Her soap is french vanilla and rose scented!!! She’d find her own scent rather pleasant, yeah? I think being empty for her would have a similar effect on her as it does on objects like OJ and Test Tube, though if she’s in a real pinch she will use her own soap to get clean!! Letting someone use her soap would be a sweet gesture of love/appreciation from her!!!

Suitcase- Balloon would write her a lot of poems once they’re back together post-canon, and she’d keep them all inside of her!! She’d keep a lot of special little gifts from important people inside of her. The stone that Knife set beside her the first time they spoke on the docks, a dried flower bracelet from Box, whatever suits her fancy! (Get it? Ge- ‘cause she’s a suitcase? okay ill leave).

Test Tube- I think she would make phones for everyone post-canon!!!^^ It’s a big island, yeah? And they really need to be able to contact each other in case of emergency, with them being able to truly die now. She could make a functioning rocket out of a vending machine, I fully believe she could make however-many functioning phones out of what she can find on the island. (Or even better, Mepple HQ. I think they all should loot it.)

Tissues- He likes coding :) I personally hate coding, because I sucked at it in school and never want to look at one of those evil “easy kids coding” websites ever again. HOWEVER coding is something he could still do while he’s feeling sick, most of the time!! And we have quite a few gamers living in the hotel, so it would be a great way for him to connect with others!!!

Trophy- He always enjoyed photography as a hobby, but very much threw himself into it after being freed from the elimination closet. After months of seeing nothing but the snotty closet walls, he had a lot more appreciation for scenic and natural photographs. He’d hang a lot of them on the wall of his room to look at as he sleeps, since the rooms don’t have windows. 

Yin-Yang- This one is from my partner @galacticrain!! Because I consider them my resident yin-yang expert^^ Yang isn’t actually gluten free, like he says in season 2 episode 5, he just knew that Yin would confess to the eating of Dough if he put any ounce of pressure on him to tell the truth. 

Mepad- Another cold weather hc! As a Mepple device, he doesn’t really get cold! However, during their first winter together, Toilet worries that Mepad has no winter clothing!!! He buys Mepad one of those super fluffy, pink cases. Mepad does not take it off for months, until his systems start to overheat because of it. 

Toilet- I think he would be rather curious about what having limbs is like. He wouldn’t be particularly upset about his own lack of limbs, just curious!^^ He would ask Mepad about his legs, (try to) ask Mephone about his arms, and maybe make a little doodle of himself with a lot of limbs. A biblically accurate Toilet, if you will.

Blueberry- I like to think his white eyes glow a bit. He functions best in pitch-black darkness, yeah? So imagine you’re walking in the dark and two white eyes are staring at you from the depths. He would love scaring people with it, I think. 

Bot- Hanging out with everyone post-season 3 finale and even more so post-canon, they discover that they really do love videogames, similar to what they told Cabby!! They would absolutely dominate in fighting games, and would main R.O.B. in Super Smash Bros.!!! A fellow robot with a 3 letter name? Sign them UP. 

Cabby- She is endlessly fascinated by how Taco’s arms work. They just…go back in? How? Could she pull them out backwards? Both on the same side? Could she reverse them? Taco does not know either, and the two of them spend a full day together just trying to figure out how they work. Cabby gets a lot of new info about them, and Taco in general, after that :). I’m projecting but I think Cabby would be curious too.^^

Candle- Her meditation training post-canon is what keeps like half the cast from losing their minds after everything that happens. She is very very much needed after… all that. Meditation would help her too, of course, in the way that it usually does, but being so helpful would probably make her feel better than that. 

Clover- She was once blown across the entire island because someone dropped a penny on the ground. It was a particularly shiny penny, though, and the year was one her many, many lucky numbers!!

Goo- My little fella!!! Uh obviously he and Bot would make comics together. They like to draw, he likes to write, it’s perfect!!!! They could help him condense his writing down into a comic format as well!!! They could also make fanart and fanfics together!!! Goo would be a shipper I think he already ships Silver and Painty if you sit that little guy down in front of Steven Universe he will explode. 

Lifering- With everyone losing their immortality post-canon, he quickly becomes one of the most popular among the contestants. Twisted your ankle? Go see Lifering. Migraine? Go see Lifering. Ate the mushrooms that Taco very clearly told you were poisonous? Hurry to Lifering!! He’s happy to be of so much help, but gives some long and rather informative lectures on proper safety checks. 

Silver Spoon- Fills his room with candles. Particularly purple ones. And ones scented with lavender and chamomile. He’ll go on and on about how much he loves candles. Particularly purple ones scented with lavender and chamomile. No one can tell if Candle is trying to politely turn him down or really hasn’t noticed. He progressively gets more and more obvious with his candle collection and nearly sets a building on fire. 

Tea Kettle- #1 Nickloon shipper. I’m serious. Whether they get together or not, she ships it. I don’t think she’d be pushy about it, insistent that they get together if they’re interested in other people, but… we know silly Nickel, always chasing a Balloon. And if he needs a little help catching it, TK will be there in a flash!!!! She’d make them a little romantic picnic complete with hors d’oeuvres! 

The Floor- My guy The Floor still visits Mephone almost daily post-canon. I really don’t see the guy being super upset or holding a grudge over Mephone having made him. He’s pretty cool, if he does say so himself!!^^ And they’re buddies, anyways, so Floory would want to check in on him after his abusive father killed everyone and then was exploded!!!! He might even befriend 3GS while he’s at it :).

[sizebrained]

Christmas Shopping Surprise, Part 1

Ben and Hazel come across an unexpected surprise while out shopping for the holidays.

CW: None? Probably the most vanilla wholesome installment.

***

It was very cold. It was cold enough to snow but it hadn't yet. Hazel was hoping for snow.

She used to dread snow these past few years in the shed, but, for the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to enjoying it safely and without freezing.

She leaned the whole side of her body against Ben's neck for a bit instead of just a steadying hand. He was so warm.

Ben was glad for the chill, it provided the perfect excuse for Hazel to curl up inside his scarf next to his neck. It kept her from being seen and more than that, he liked having her there against his skin. As he thought about it, he felt her whole body suddenly press against him and it made him stop walking. He wanted to ask if she was alright. He worried that maybe she had slipped but that was so unlike her.

There were a lot of people around. There weren't that many days left until Christmas Eve. And so many people who were milling about were also staring or outright gawking at him. So much attention always made Ben hesitate to say anything to Hazel. He stayed quiet and started walking again when he felt her body lift up off of his neck. After several minutes of silent walking, he realized that it was rather nice to share a moment in silence like this with her. He liked their talks, but this was a nice change. Every so often, he felt her one tiny hand pressed against the side of his neck so that her other hand could pull down the lip of his scarf to peer over it. Sam and Cob did not seem to suffer from the same worry as Ben did about being noticed. He had lost track of Sam well over an hour ago. But he knew her and Cob would be fine.

His older sister, as she insisted that he call her instead of little big sister, was dashing in and out of stores like Scrooge on Christmas morning. More and more bags were being added in tow as she went in and out. Ben was pretty sure she had managed to get his credit card again, but he didn't actually mind it for some reason at Christmas.

Sam had added a headband with reindeer antlers and bells on it that made her even louder still at the very first store they went in. He assumed Cob might be hanging on those antlers now for a better view if the bells weren't too loud. Several stores later, in an overcrowded toy shop, Ben had enough and needed air and space. He didn't bother to ask Hazel if she felt like staying as the noise and motion inside the overcrowded store was making his pulse quicken. He much preferred walking through the festive, but still overcrowded, streets of the downtown shopping area. It was older than the rest of the city, and some of the side streets even had cobblestones that would have been treacherous when he was on crutches.

He was glad to be off of them finally and thought how much it would suck for anyone who needed them all the time, or his neighbor and her wheelchair.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?" Ben whispered down at his shoulder breaking into his train of thought not remembering Hazel being this quiet for this long. Hazel patted his neck like she was reassuring her very large circus animal before a show. "Yes that is very sweet of you to ask. But I am perfectly well." She paused for a moment before continuing, "And do not be afraid to actually...you know go into any of these lovely stores and get some presents. I thought you had a list?" He did have a list, but he did not like the stores in this part of town. He was far more accustomed to modern big box stores with warehouse high ceilings and very wide aisles.

All of these stores were postcard perfect and they felt about the same size as a postcard to him. Something about so many people taking selfies or photos made the whole thing worse as he noticed several bystanders take his photo as he passed. "Uh...I will but you know I'm not exactly sure what I want to get for anyone yet...and uh I'm sure I'll know it when I see it you know?" Ben sputtered thinking of a poor excuse on the spot. Hazel knew he felt anxious in such tiny shops. From her spot against his neck, she could literally feel his heart pounding faster underneath and all around her. In the toy store, the thumping had gotten strong enough to shake her whole body. Thankfully, it slowed down fairly quickly when he was out on the street again.

He was getting much better, or at least getting better at knowing what made him calm down. If Ben had jumped, he would have either put a hole in the toy store's ceiling or knocked himself out or both. She wanted to push him to stay but thought better of it.

It was Christmas after all. She thought he deserved a respite from working on his fits.

She found herself enjoying silent walk. Besides, it wasn't like she needed anything in the store or could buy something for herself in any event.

Hazel let herself imagine what it would be like if she was human and she could go shop like all the people she saw going in and out of stores.

She wondered what she'd be like as a human for several long moments. Ben would still be giant but much more manageable. She wondered if they would be a couple if she was human. It was a nice thought. She was getting lost in her own thoughts before something caught her eye and attention.

"Oh! What is that shop! On the other side of the street," Hazel shouted and tugged on the inside of the scarf in the direction of the store.

Ben turned his head and saw a single large window completely filled with a jumble of books. It didn't look like the owner was even trying to have them displayed, just stacked and piled everywhere.

Even from across the street, he could tell it was older and smaller than most of the other stores.

Ben caught himself before he groaned out loud at the thought of having to squeeze into it.

Still, despite his misgivings, he crossed the road and stopped in front of it. He stood there looking down at the window and even smaller than usual door.

"Blackwell at Finchingfield Company's Rare and Desirable Books," Ben read out loud with a chuckle.

"Oh my god this sounds more British than you do," He said down to his neck. "That's near London..." Hazel said flatly back to him as she stared at the words over the scarf as well.

Hazel didn't elaborate any further. Ben sighed as he noticed that there were a few steps leading down to the actual entrance. It was a basement shop but no sign of a store above. Maybe the owner lived above it.

Ben bent down low with a grunt to open the door. It made a bell attached to it jangle loudly.

He sidestepped into the bookstore and immediately regretted his decision. He stood upright and hit his head far sooner than he expected.

The ceiling was abnormally low. It was a basement, but this was ridiculous. He kept his knees bent and felt a tightness in his back.

There were very narrow, angular pathways made their way through floor to ceiling shelves overfilled with books. Ben knew this was going to be an ordeal.

Ben heard Hazel gasp.

"Oh...it's wonderful!" She said in hushed surprise.

From behind a stack of books, Ben heard a very faint voice call out. "Oh hello you two! What a lovely surprise! Come in, come in, please take your time! It's wonderful to have you both! It's been so long."

Ben and Hazel froze in panicked silence. There was no way someone could have spotted Hazel behind Ben's scarf or hear her from that far away. Maybe they were confused anyone actually would come into the store.

"Uh Hello? It's just me...by myself..." Ben yelled out after a very long awkward silence.

Hazel slapped Ben's neck as hard as she could for saying something so awkwardly suspicious.

"Oh! Just you! Right of course dear, just you. I understand. But please come in and take your time. Let me know if you need anything," The voice replied back.

Ben wasn't sure what to do. Half of him thought to just turn around and leave. He stood still for what seemed like an eternity. His back was starting to hurt.

Finally, the oldest, smallest woman he had ever seen slowly stepped out into one of the aisles about 10 feet ahead of him in an aisle. She slowly made her way towards him.

"Dear me aren't you a big one. I swear they get bigger every generation." The old woman said adjusting her glasses and craning her neck to look up at Ben who was still crouching down because of the ceilings.

Ben recognized her British accent through the sheer age of her voice. She was wrapped in a very thick gray button up sweater and looked like she was born in a bookstore hundreds of years ago.

Ben gulped.

"Uh...yeah...but just me...see...and you had said two?" Ben said hoping maybe her mind was going before the old woman interrupted him.

"Oh! Ohhhhhh....Of course, of course, just you dear! And my aren't you big enough for two people anyway. Certainly, certainly, I understand..." the old woman said in a knowing tone that didn't seem like she was missing a beat at all despite her age.

As if to confirm Ben's suspicions, the old woman made a big show of winking up at him and giggled under her breath.

Ben was sure that somehow the old woman knew that Hazel was hiding behind his scarf.

Without saying anything else, the old woman turned and made her way back to her spot again. Ben remained totally still, crouching in place right at the front door. Finally, he had enough and just got down on his knees. It helped.

Hazel popped out from behind his scarf to admonish him in a hushed whisper, "What the bloody hell are you doing?! Get up and go look around!"

Ben looked at her with a grimace afraid to say anything and really make the old woman think there were two people in the store.

"She knows!" he dared to whisper as quietly as he could. Despite his best efforts, his whisper still sounded loud amongst all of the books.

Hazel rolled her eyes huffing in exasperation.

"She knows you are a lunatic the way you are acting right now..." she said while pulling down Ben's scarf.

She walked out onto his shoulder. Then without saying anything, she leapt onto a nearby shelf.

Ben stopped himself from shouting after her. Instead, he decided to turn and awkwardly knee walk down the main aisle towards the old woman.

The sides of his coat were brushing the books and making a swishing sound from the material of it.

Hazel was moving far faster and easier as she disappeared into the stacks far ahead of him. She started looking at the various titles and sections as she raced past them.

She could spend days in here and surely she could avoid being seen by one very old lady.

Hazel was tempted to ask Ben to leave her there so she could explore on her own before she heard him catching up.

After a few labored moments, he finally made it over to where the old woman had shouted at him at the front door. She was standing behind what looked like a very old fashioned cash register with a small, handwritten note taped to the front that read "Cash Only".

Even on his knees, she still had to look up to make eye contact with him. She looked up at Ben with a pleasant expression as if she was waiting for him to speak. He felt the pressure of it and finally blurted something out.

"You've got a lot of books."

Hazel was watching him from a nearby shelf, looking out from behind a small dust covered book. She shook her head in disbelief and rubbed her face.

"Why yes dear. As it so happens, this is a book store," she said emphasizing the word with the same kind of dryness that he noticed in Hazel. She called it wit.

"So I find it does help to have many for sale. Any topics of interest to you or your friend...oh sorry right. I mean are you looking for yourself or someone else?" The woman said correcting herself like she was playing along with a small child over a game of pretend.

Ben stayed silent staring at her. He knew that she knows. He knew that she knows and he knew that she knew that he knows. But she kept up the facade at least.

"Someone else...well she...I mean she likes everything. She's really smart and well read so I don't know what I could get that she wouldn't have already read or could probably recite without reading," Ben replied before she cut him off again.

"A special book for a special someone? I have just the thing." The old woman declared.

Hazel felt her heart flutter a bit at hearing Ben talk about her to someone else like this. She dared to step a little further out from her hiding spot.

Ben started blushing at the long stare from the old woman. She wasn't wrong about Hazel being his "special someone." But it was so weird to talk about it with anyone other than Sam.

"Oh my so large and full of feelings dear..." She said noticing his cheeks. Then she cackled as she walked past him, disappearing into the shelves.

He tilted back and forth on his knees as he waited. She returned to her side of the register holding a small tan book that looked very old. "Does she...Well I suppose that the proper question is do you have this? They never do have their own you know. They're always borrowing in their way but it's fine they never need much and we can always share isn't that right?" the old woman asked with another cackle up as she held out the book to him.

"No I don't have this..." Ben said taking the book. He tried to ignore her comments and not let anything slip. He read the cover, it was The Mentor Book of Major British Poets. It looked like it had a bunch of different poems in it as Ben turned it in his hand and looked at the back.

"Of course they're not all British poets. We have the bad habit of lumping in the whole Kingdom rather than admit the Welsh and Irish are often better poets in our own language," The old woman said.

Ben just nodded in silence and handed her a twenty dollar bill.

"But poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason my boy. You can never go wrong with a book of poetry as a gift." She continued as she punched the loud keys of the register.

"And your special someone? What is her name?" the old woman asked as she made change for him.

"Hazel," Ben said without skipping a beat forgetting himself.

"Oh we never knew a Hazel back home. I imagine she must have been in a different pod. Was she ever in London?" The old woman asked.

"What?" Ben asked stupefied.

"Hazel, was she ever in London? She must have been at some point. They bloody live forever so I'm sure must have at some point," the old woman said like she was remembering more than talking to Ben. Ben felt the sweat on his forehead in rising terror. Hearing this woman casually talking like she not only knew Hazel was there but had come across tiny people like her before filled him with terror.

"Yes I was in London." Hazel suddenly said from a shelf just above and to the side of the cash register. She had made her way over across while the humans were talking.

Hazel dropped down and then stood up on the top of the cash register. Her arms were crossed and her tail swished slowly from side to side.

Ben's eyes went wide and he stood up bringing his hands to either side of Hazel. But before he could grab her tiny body and flee, he hit his head on the ceiling as he rose. The whole place shook and rattled from the impact. Even the bell on the door rang softly.

He crumbled straight down with a loud yelp holding his head with both hands.

The old woman cackled with glee louder than she had since they had come into the store, ignoring him and keeping her eyes locked on Hazel.

"Oh that's just wonderful! I had hoped you would let me see you! It's been so long! I haven't seen one of you since the war. This is just the best Christmas wish come true," the old woman shouted clapping her hands together.

"Hazel it's lovely to meet you, I'm Penny." the old woman said.

"How did you know I was here?" Hazel asked warily.

Ben groaned and muttered rubbing his head in a massive heap on the floor filling most of the aisle.

"Oh but of course I knew you were here dear. A pact lingers even if one of you goes. Although sadly your side never seems to make it if the human gives up the ghost first." Penny said wiping her eyes that seemed to be tearing up.

"You were..." Hazel started saying before the old woman interrupted her.

"Yes I was in a revealing pact with one of your kind for many many years. Jacob was his name. Jacob and his whole family lived with mine for many, many generations." Penny said with a smile at Hazel.

"Ever since, I always could feel when one of you was near. But it's been decades since I felt it. But sure enough as soon as your large lad here came in I knew I could feel it like it was yesterday. I am so glad. We have so much to talk about." *** End Part 1

[burdhousecookbook]

Scrap Broth

This recipe's a fabulous way to reduce food waste in the home: by turning vegetable scraps and chicken carcasses into hearty broth you can use in whatever! It'll probably take you awhile to accumulate enough scraps to put into a full pot, but when you have them, go for it! I started doing this when we did meal kits, and it's a really lovely way to make something from what would otherwise just be waste!

Needs: A large stock pot or slow cooker A large amount of vegetable scraps/discards (I usually fill a gallon freezer bag and use that much.) (Optional) A rotisserie chicken carcass: the bones, skin, etc

Start saving vegetable scraps from your meal prep and storing them in the freezer. I usually use a gallon freezer bag and just keep it in the freezer til it's full. It's usually a good indicator to me that I have enough to make a pot

See list at bottom for a guide on what's good to save.

Make sure to wash whatever produce you're using, since most of these scraps will be peels or ends of things.

If you eat meat, a rotisserie chicken is a cheap source of protein for other dishes, and all the leftover bones, skin, and other bits add a lot to a broth.

Save the gel out of the bottom of the container and throw the twine in too. It's full of flavor!

Once you get a full bag of scraps and are ready for the long cook, add your ingredients to your big pot with enough water to cover everything, then season to taste:

I usually omit salt since I know I can add it when I cook with the broth later. It keeps me from over-salting.

My go-to seasonings are garlic, sage, rosemary, thyme, celery seed, and bay leaf, but you can also modify it for what you plan to use it for.

I usually splash in some white vinegar too, since it's supposed to help you get more out of the chicken carcass.

If using the stovetop, bring to a simmer for an hour or until the flavor and color comes out in the broth. If you cook it too high and the liquid gets low, just add more water.

If using the slow cooker, try low for 7-8 hours.

When you're satisfied with your broth, strain it through a fine sieve to separate the broth from the scraps. You can skim off any fat and scum as it cools.

The broth freezes well if you're not planning to use it immediately!

Worthwhile scraps guide:

Great to save: Carrot peels and ends Celery ends Onion/shallot peels/ends Asparagus ends Mushroom stems Garlic peels/ends/tops Tomato (de-seed to prevent bitterness) Zucchini ends Corn cobs Leftover fresh herbs (Rosemary, thyme, etc) Ehhhh, maybe? - • These can make broth a bit starchy, but can be good anyway. Winter squash peels and pulp Sweet potato peels Potato peels What to skip: Anything that's gone off. If you wouldn't consider eating it, toss it. Brassicas - Most of the vegetables in this family can turn a broth bitter which you don't necessarily want. Most other leafy greens - They can also make for a bitter broth or just don't add much flavor. Bell Peppers - They can make stock a little funky and bitter. Personally, I take a lot of guidance from this blog post on the topic: [x]

[ghostfives]

Fun In The Snow

A/N: This is a Chirstmas present for @ahsokatano-thetogruta. I hope you like it and I’m so sorry it took so long.

“Come on, Dogma! Stop being a baby.” Tup teases as he drags his boyfriend through the snow, pulling the sled behind him as they head up the hill. Dogma just huffs. “But it is cold, I’m freezing. Should we even be doing this? Where did you get that sled?”

Tup laughs softly. “Yes, we should be doing this. Because it’s fun! And a civie was nice and gave it to me, now come on!” They get to the top, and Tup sits the sled how it’s supposed to go and sits in the back. “Come on, in my lap.” He pats where he wants Dogma to sit, and his boyfriend sighs and sits down.

“I’m only doing this because I love you.” He grumbles, earning a kiss on the back of his neck from Tup, who starts pushing them forward. “Ready?” Tup asks, and Dogma nods. With that, Tup gives a mighty push and they’re off! Right down the hill. Tup yells with joy, and he can hear his boyfriend yelling in a mix of joy and terror.

They slide down the huge hill, and Dogma starts laughing with joy as they finally stop. “C-Can we do this again?” He asks nervously as he stands up, getting a laugh and a nod from Tup.

“Of course!” Tup happily shouts with joy, pulling Dogma with him as they both head back to the top. Dogma immediately sits in the sled when it’s sat down, and Tup sits behind him as they both slide down again. They both go over and over again, having so much fun.

After the tenth time of going down, Tup chuckles and grabs Dogma before he runs back up. “How about we do something different now? Do you want to build a snowman?” He asks, making Dogma nod. “Sure? How do we do that?” He asks, getting a laugh from Tup.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Tup says, leaving the sled and moving to a spot away from the hill with Dogma. “Now, you make a snowball and start rolling it around to collect snow. You can make the bottom, so make it as big as you’d like.” He says with a smile.

Dogma nods, making a snowball before starting to roll it around. He doesn’t quite understand it, but he’ll do anything for Tup. And besides, sledding was fun, so this probably will be too. He rolls the little ball around, smiling when it gets bigger continuously. It takes a few minutes, but then he has to stand up to roll it around, getting it nice and big. 

Dogma gets it to a size he’s happy with, very big, and he turns to watch Tup roll his own snowball. “This is fun.” Dogma admits, making Tup turn to him and smirk. “Told you so.” He teases.

Dogma watches as Tup rolls the snowball until it’s half the size of the bigger one. He lifts it, and puts it on top, then turns and smiles at Dogma, warning his heart. 

“Alright, now you just make a smaller on for the head, while I go get the stuff to decorate it that the civies gave me.” Tup explains and goes running, making Dogma laugh. He bends down and makes another snowball, then rolls it around for a few minutes, but not as much as he did before. Once he deems it the appropriate size to be the head, he lifts it up and on top. 

That’s when Tup runs back over to him, holding a box full of things. “Alright! You ready?” Dogma nods, and Tup lets out a snicker, moving over and kissing Dogma’s cheek.

Tup then reaches into the box, pulling out three flat rocks. “These are the buttons.” He says and placed them on, then he hand some pebbles to Dogma. “The mouth.” Tup explains to him. Dogma nods, placing the buttons on and arranging them into a smiling shape, a happy smile just as his handsome Tup has.

“Now a button nose, and two eyes made out of coal. The civie kids were very specific about that, and a few other details.” Tup explains, and Dogma nods. He looks into the box and grabs a top hat. “This?” He asks, getting a nod from Tup. “Yep! Guess it’s a magicians they said?” 

“Magicians?” Dogma asks curiously, placing it on the snowman’s head. “Why?” 

Tup shrugs. “Don’t know, but we’re done! Look how great he looks! Just one more detail, a corn cob pipe.” He says, placing said object in the snowman’s mouth. Dogma hums. “Looks amazing, Love. And it was very fun!”

Tup pulls Dogma into a kiss. “I’m glad you had fun, Love. should we head inside now for hot coco? Get you all warmed up?” He asks, seeing Dogma shiver a bit.

Dogma nods. “Yes, please.” He says, letting Tup lead him into the base, happy as can be to have this time with the man he loves.

Tup kisses Dogma’s head as he sits him down and helps get his snow clothes off before wrapping him in a blanket and giving him a steaming cup of coco. They curl up together and drink it, watching christmas movies into the night.

[twistedtummies2]

“Oh Dear, What an Awkward Situation...”

So...had to share a little thing that happened today with you guys, because I figured it would make a few of you chuckle. XD Today I had a visit with an old friend and colleague of mine, who I haven’t had a chance to properly see in almost two years. He’s something of an aficionado for older films and television shows (as well as radio programs), and among a few other things today, we decided to watch an episode of the old time sitcom “Sgt. Bilko.” (The series was later the inspiration for a Steve Martin comedy of the same title, which may be where some may recognize the name.) For those who don’t know, Sgt. Bilko is an army sitcom focusing on the title character: a con-artist who has somehow managed to become a high-ranking sergeant in the U.S. military. The series focuses on Bilko’s many misadventures, as he tries to square being a patriotic soldier and commanding officer with his nature as, in his own words, “a real conniving louse.” My friend decided to share an episode with me I hadn’t seen (I’m not super familiar with the series) which features the first onscreen appearance of an actor I like, Fred Gwynne. Now, at this point, you’re probably thinking: “Okay, TT2, what are you driving at? Why do I care about some old TV series I probably haven’t even seen?” Answer: the episode in question was entitled “The Eating Contest.” Yeah. Suddenly I have your attention, right? The plot of “The Eating Contest” has Bilko feeling frustrated that he keeps losing various gambling games to a rival division. Determined to get revenge (and win back his losses from these earlier gambles), Bilko gets an idea when he finds out one of his new recruits actually has a reputation as basically a professional at eating contests: a guy with SUCH a big appetite, he has literally earned the name “The Stomach.” He thus decides to make a bet with the rival division, who have their own big eater, who calls himself “The Hog.” However, it turns out The Stomach has more or less retired from his gluttonous ways, so Bilko and his cronies have to find a way to convince The Stomach to take down The Hog. Now...this is a live-action series. From the 1950s, no less. So, as you can imagine, I don’t necessarily find the CHARACTERS appealing - I don’t have a crush on The Stomach or The Hog, as they are presented - but the CONCEPTS of this episode? They are another story. I swear, a lot of the visual gags and the dialogue in this episode feels INTENSELY like something I would write or one of my friends would write: for example, the Stomach drinking down a whole bowl of soup, or grabbing two corn cobs at once and alternating between them as he chows down. There’s even a line where Bilko warns one of his men, while the Stomach is getting ready to get to work: “Stay back! Do you WANT to be eaten?!” Even the personalities of both The Stomach AND The Hog feel almost like characters I would make. By Gadfrey, just the descriptions of how much both can eat feels so much like something I would put to paper,  With that in mind...yeah...it actually felt preeeetty awkward sitting there and watching the episode with my friend sitting there. And as you can imagine, it IMMEDIATELY started giving me ideas for doing a story featuring characters I DO find appealing, which didn’t help a whole lot. The only thing that kept me from blushing like wildfire and freezing up was probably the fact that...again...live-action sitcom from the 50s. So I guess that was a saving grace in THIS instance. XD Anyway...just wanted to share that with you all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go brainstorm ideas for the old Malleus vs. Leona eating contest idea I’ve had kicking around for a while. >///>

[aleximustd13]

@fxckthe-noise thank you so much, this goes back to you as well!! 🖤

@magnifying--glass @slavet0thegrind @peppermint-candy @i-dont-like-rice @emometalhead

Let’s spread some positivity! Tag some blogs you want to share some love with!

@piratewithvigor @jaxl-road @smokeandmirrorz @sheris532 @sams-serialkiller-fetish @slashscowboyboots @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands

[banashee]

  CW: - swearing - exhaustion - longing / loneliness

Late night and early morning

 In all honesty, it could have been much, much worse. At least, this is what Jon keeps telling himself as he is wide awake in a hotel bed and doesn't even react when a heavy arm is swung over his shoulder, almost hitting him in the face.

 He sighs, not for the first time that night. Jon simply moves the hand out of his face and closer to his shoulder in slight irritation, knowing it won’t stay there for long.

 Predictably, the only answer he gets is a long snore, about as gentle as a chainsaw.

 Eyes heavy, Jon tries to make himself more comfortable. But once again, this proves itself to be a lot harder now that Tim, fast asleep and dead to the world, seems to have chosen him as his own personal pillow. Or teddy bear - it’s a bit of an even tie so far.

 Truth be told, this is not at all what Jon had expected from this work trip.

    A few hours earlier     -

     It isn’t that big a deal, really. Jon and Tim have been sent to a small village up north, in order to investigate an old, abandoned farm building. Strange things are supposed to happen, and well, given the nature of their job, it is on them to take a close and personal look at it.

 Truth be told, the two of them are happy to get out of the city for a bit, especially since it’s on the institute’s dime. They just have to be there, wander the old abandoned farm and then make themselves a few nice and comfortable evenings. There is a small pub, right next to their hotel, and a lake that is nice to sit nearby.

 All in all, it is a rather nice and idyllic place.

 “This is great, I almost feel like we’re on a holiday. Well, minus this part here, maybe.” Tim gestures around and in the general direction of a very old, ragged scarecrow to prove his point. It really is an ugly thing.

 “The village, certainly. Him over there? Not so much.” Jon nods over to the scarecrow, and for a moment, it feels like it might be staring back. He shakes his head - what a silly thought. He continues,

 “I have a feeling we’re wasting our time here. I cannot see anything out of the norm, this place is just… Old. And abandoned. “

 “Well, it adds to the…      Spooky     factor.” Tim grins at the disgusted look on his friend's face as soon as the word leaves his mouth - he knows that “spooky” gives Jon the hives, and admittedly, he’s having way too much fun with it.

 “Eugh. I wouldn’t put it like that, but… Yes. Yes, I think it does.”

 “It’s a psychological thing… But then again, people did disappear here. I’m just not sure if it really is something paranormal or simply, well, crime.” Tim shrugs, and bends forward to take a closer look at some dusty artefacts in a lopsided shelf on the wall. It’s mostly fertilizer, watering cans and all sorts of small tools - nothing that would look suspicious on a farm at all.

 “And as far as we know, Police never found any signs here that would indicate crimes. Still… I’m really not sure about this… Hmm...” with a thoughtful noise, Jon peaks around the corner of a dusty, cob-web covered tractor. Careful not to touch anything, he searches the corner with a torch and almost jumps to the ceiling when the light cone lands on a fairly large spider in her net, surrounded by several egg sacks in the corner. Jon could swear the bloody thing is staring right back at him with way too many hungry eyes.

 “Jesus! Fuck no…”

 “Everything okay?” Tim asks from behind him, and Jon can hear him stepping closer as his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He      hates hates hates    spiders with a passion, and for good reason… But he isn’t willing to discuss this right here.

 “I- yes, I’m fine… I just got startled, is all. Huge spider.” Jon shudders in disgust, and is ridiculously proud that he doesn’t jump at the touch from hand on his back. Mostly because he knows who is coming up behind him.

 “...That’s one big Nope in a web.” Tim agrees, peering over the smaller man’s shoulder and then makes a face.

 “At least there is nothing else to look at there… No hidden doors or anything strange as far as I can tell.”

 “No, it doesn't look like it. Come on, let’s call it a day. We still need to check in to the hotel.”

 “...Right.” quietly thankful for the excuse to leave,  Jon easily falls into step with Tim. They only arrived a few hours earlier, but they knew that once they checked in, they wouldn’t want to leave anytime soon. So, they make their way to the hotel right after the first, very rough investigation.

 It’s a small village and the hotel is easily found. It’s an old, but well taken care of building. Clearly, it is a very central place and looks pleasant enough from the outside. It is definitely a lot nicer than anything either of the researchers would have booked for themselves. But since the institute is paying… Well, they intend to enjoy the stay while it lasts.

 From behind the service desk, Jon and Tim are greeted by a clerk who is of friendly and helpful nature. This is probably why it takes the two men a second to catch on when he reads back the booking information to them for confirmation.

 “So, that is one double for three night’s then, gentlemen. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

 “No thank you, this is fine - wait, a double? Not a twin?”

 The smile on the clerk's face seems to freeze into place, and he begins typing, slightly more panicked than before.

 “I am so sorry, there must have been a mistake in the booking.” Apologetically, he looks up and back and forth between Tim and Jon.

 “...Usually, I’d offer to rebook but as it is, we’re full for the next two weeks. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience, gentlemen.”

 Jon glances over at Tim.

 The two of them have been working together for a while now, and it is safe to say that they’re friends. There might even be something like a mutual crush, but… It’s not like either of them is talking about that part. Instead, they share another quick glance and come to an agreement.

 “That’s alright, we’ll take the double. Please, there is no need to worry.”

 Clearly still embarrassed, the man behind the counter sends them on their way with not only the keys to the room, but also a generous handful of vouchers for the in-house restaurant.

 The evening itself is quiet and comfortable, spent with good food, conversations and friendly banter. It’s easy to forget about the job, now that they’re done for the day. And thankfully, it seems to be a bit of a bust - as frustrating as it is to find that, they still have three nights booked here and they’ll be covered back at the institute for the time being.

 In all honesty, both Tim and Jon could think of plenty that would be worse than being stuck in a nice little village with a friend.

 As the evening is getting late, the two of them make their way up to the small but comfortable room.

 And this is how the two of them end up in the double bed.

     At first, they’re back to back, with a tiny bit of casual distance between them. It’s their careful attempt to not remind themselves of feelings that may or may not be mutual. But that lasts for about five minutes, which is about as long as it takes Tim to fall asleep that night. As soon as he is out, Jon is informed of that fact when the first wave of snores shakes the bed. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.

 “Psst. Hey. Tim. You’re snoring.” he presses out between clenched teeth, but it’s useless. Jon sighs, but he doesn’t try again. For one, he doesn’t want to make a fuss, and he also doesn't really want to wake Tim up.

 Lord knows, he is aware that sleep doesn’t always come easily to him. It doesn’t come easily to Jon himself, either, and that’s not even taking into account someone who clears an entire forest in their sleep right next to his ear.

 And this is when the shifting back and forth begins.

 Arms are flailing, elbows collide with ribs and shins are kicked - Jon does his best to rearrange himself in order to be somewhat comfortable, but it never lasts long.

 That is, until Tim turns over onto his other side and slides his arms around Jon. He shifts a bit, until they’re pressed flush against each other and Jon can feel the warm, even breath on his neck. At least, Tim’s snoring is now way more quiet - more like a soothing white noise instead of the offensive chainsaw.

 Even though it is dark and no one else is awake to see it, Jon can feel the deep flush creeping up his cheeks. But apart from that, he is… Comfortable - happy even.

 His heart is beating faster now, almost hammering out of his chest. It feels like it must be deafening, and Jon is almost surprised that the sound of it doesn’t fill the entire room.

 He didn’t expect any of this, but there is no denying that it feels good to be held, to be close to someone he cares a lot about. But Jon doesn’t know how to address any of this in the future. He is well aware of his ever growing feelings for Tim, but this… This is much more.

 Jon feels warm, happy and comfortable. Laying here like this, surrounded by warmth and with the breathing, sturdy body of his friend pressed against him, the idea of actually talking to Tim about this doesn’t seem too bad anymore.

 Almost without noticing, one of his hands finds its way to Tim’s forearm slung over his chest. Skin brushes against skin, and it feels just right.

 “You couldn't have come up with that position like an hour ago, could you?” Jon asks sleepily, but he smiles. Unsurprisingly, all he gets in response is another quiet snore as Tim tightens his hold around him. It only makes Jon smile wider, but he already drifts off into sleep and doesn’t answer. .

     Sooner rather than later, the next morning comes. The first rays of sunlight creep in through the half closed blinds, tinting the room into a soft glow.

 Tim is the first to wake up, and he is pleasantly surprised when he realizes that there is a weight on his chest and hair tickling his chin. It’s been a long time since he woke up with someone else, and truth be told, he’s really missed that feeling.

 He is especially happy since it is Jon of all people who is currently fast asleep half on top of him. There is something between the two of them, and has been for a while actually. A feeling that seems to grow every day, and yet, neither of them has initiated a conversation about it as of now.

 Tim glances over at the clock on the bedside table - it’s still early, so he closes his eyes again and lets himself drift back off into sleep.

 The next time he wakes up, the sun is completely up in the sky and the clock informs him that they were asleep for longer than they probably should have been.

 Despite all that, Tim doesn’t make a move to wake Jon up, too happy and content to be close to him. Instead, his hands start combing through his hair absentmindedly until eventually, Jon stirs awake. He blinks a few times, clearly taking in the situation, but he doesn’t move away.

 That fact alone makes Tim happier than it probably should.

 “Good morning.” he says, carefully casual while he continues to gently untangle a knot in the other man’s hair.

 “....Just five more minutes…” comes the sleepy response, muffled into his chest.

 “Five more minutes.” Tim agrees, and leans in closer. He’s perfectly fine with that - it’s not like this is a hardship. Not at all.

 But as it is, the idyllic morning can’t last forever. The next time Tim looks at the clock, he realizes that now they really are late - it’s not like anyone would care or find out, but the responsible adult part of him already feels slightly guilty.

 “Jon, wake up. We’re late.” he regretfully informs him, and Jon shifts a bit while opening one eye. He looks like a sleepy cat, and Tim finds that endearing as hell.

 “I suppose we are… But it’s not like anything would wait for us out there.” And grumpy, too. That’s good to know, he figures.

 “Oh wow, I’m sure Creepy Frank over at the farm would be disappointed to hear that.” Tim quips at him, the smile clear in his voice.

 After a beat of silence, Jon lifts his head off of his chest and squints at him through messy strands of his hair.

 “You named the…? You know what, nevermind.” he flops down again and decides to not-care. He’s too tired to deal with this.

 “Well, we’ll spend some time at that farm, we might as well give our ugly friend a name.”

 That actually gets him a laugh.

 “How very charming of you. What time is it?”, he asks then.

 “Half nine.”

 “Half - okay yes we really should get going….” Regretfully, Jon peels himself off of Tim and feels across the nightstand with one hand, searching for his glasses without actually sitting up. Even though they haven’t even left the bed yet, he already feels colder.

     Their day is largely uneventful. Mainly, the two of them keep investigating and walking around the old farm, talking and bantering like they always do. Occasionally, they throw a quip towards Creepy Frank, just for the fun of it, but they still can’t find any evidence of anything that would be relevant to them and their jobs.

 They discuss this while sitting by the lake, comfortably in the shade of a large tree while they’re having a late lunch.

 It’s idyllic and comfortable, and under different circumstances, “romantic” would be a word that could come to mind.

 But as it is, neither of them mentions the last night or the way they woke up. It still doesn’t stop them from sitting closer together than usual, close enough even, so that their legs bump together.

 Maybe, one day, they can come back here together - it's a daydream well worth entertaining.

 When the darkened night sky stretches out over the village, Jon and Tim climb into bed next to each other. But unlike the night before, they don’t even try to keep a distance. In quiet agreement, they shuffle close to one another and rearrange themselves until they’re both in a comfortable embrace. They fall asleep fast that night, listening to each other's heartbeat and breathing until sleep pulls them under.

 By the time morning comes, both Tim and Jon are once again happy, warm and comfortable as they wake up wrapped around each other. Sleepily, they enjoy the gentle physical contact for as long as it lasts.

 They are well rested - better so than either of them has been in a long time.

     Their remaining days in the village are pretty much the same. There is nothing noticeable going on in the old farm and Creepy Frank is unsettling as always.

 Around lunch time on the last day, they have once again made themselves comfortable by the lake. They write their reports there, because there is no point in going back to the farm or the hotel now - they’ll leave later that evening, their luggage already stashed away in lockers at the train station. They’ll miss this place - despite it being technically a work trip, It has been a nice change from their busy everyday life in London. Not to mention the other, more private parts of it all.

 Neither of them has made a move to talk about The Thing between them yet, and maybe that won’t happen until they’re back home - who knows. Just a few times, Tim opens his mouth as if he isn’t sure what to say, but then he always comes around with some sort of joke or teasing.

 Jon picks up on it, but he isn’t great at talking, either. He wants to - but as it is, he remains silent and chews on his words without getting any of them out.

 At first glance, it looks like nothing has really changed, but when Tim and Jon walk to the train station in the early evening, they hold hands the entire way. Once they have found their seats, they continue to do so, but still, neither of them mentions anything. For now, it is perfectly alright. Neither of them wants to have this potentially awkward conversation in public.

 They keep up their conversation and occasionally squeeze the other’s hand in silent acknowledgement.

     The everyday life in London and the Magnus Institute gets them back into its claws almost as soon as they return to work. There isn’t a lot of opportunity to start a serious personal conversation, and so they fall back into their old routine. They work on opposite desks, they share lunch breaks and walk to the library together, and things should be as they always are.

 They are not.

 Jon notices it in himself first. In the short time he’d been away with Tim, those three nights sharing a bed with him had been the best sleep he’d gotten in months, if not years. It had been only three nights - but Jon misses him already.

 When before, he’d been faintly aware of, and mostly ignoring his feelings for Tim, now he lays awake at night because he feels cold and lonely without him.

 Jon stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, eyes itching from tiredness. He’d give anything to fall asleep right now, but he knows it is useless.

 Sleep has always been a difficult topic for him, as insomnia, nightmares and circling thoughts about everything and anything tend to keep him awake on a regular basis. But those three days… Those three days had been special, and Jon isn’t sure he can ever get back from the way that makes him feel.

 One night, about a week after returning back home, he is staring at his ceiling again, half-tempted to text Tim, who always looks tired and worn out when he sees him at work. But Jon doesn’t want to take any chances - what if he does manage a bit of sleep and then gets woken up from a text in the middle of the night?

 His thumb hovers over the send button in their ongoing text conversation.

     Hi,  

     Are you awake?  

 It’s short, but Jon knows it will tell Tim an awful lot. He sighs, unsure what to do. But then, he accidentally moves wrong, and he hits SEND without meaning to. He shoots up into a sitting position in his bed, cursing out loud as he stares at the screen. After the first shock, he calms down. it’s not like he didn’t want to send the text, it’s just that he isn't’t mentally prepared for it. Not really.

 Before he can go down another rabbit hole of thoughts, his mobile phone vibrates in his hand, and a text from Tim appears on his screen.

     Hi, I sure fucking am. Can’t sleep. You?  

     Can’t sleep either. Not since. Well.  

 Jon doesn’t even think as he types his reply, and he sends it off before he can stop himself. He is half tempted to ask if Tim wants company, although he doesn’t know how to phrase that over text. Not with all the feelings they haven’t yet talked about.

 He is saved from agonizing over it when Tim himself asks him the very same question.

     Do you want company?  

 It would be an understatement to say that Jon is relieved.

     Yes, please. I’d like that  

     Tell you what? I’m already on my way. I fucking hate sleeping on my own.  

 That last text makes Jon’s heart beat a little bit faster once again, but he is more relieved than anything. And to his great surprise, it doesn’t take as long as he’d thought it would until his doorbell rings.

 He scrambles out of bed and into the hallway to open the door. It doesn’t occur to him just how frazzled he must look. Deep purple bags under his eyes, hair standing up in every direction as it has escaped from his braid and clothes that are way too big on him and hang off of him like potato sacks.

 He is tired - so, so tired.

 Only a short while later, Tim shuffles out of the lift, and he looks just as exhausted as Jon feels. He must have rolled straight out of bed, put on shoes and a jacket and that’s it.

 Instead of making one of his usual quips, Tim simply slumps into Jon as he hugs him, his head resting on top of the smaller man’s.

 “Hey.” He hugs back and remains standing in the doorway - he is pretty sure they’re both going to fall over if he tries to move now.

 “Hmmm… Much better.” Tim squeezes him a bit tighter, like he always does when he is showing affection. it’s very much him, and Jon finds he is long used to it by now. Even more so, he needs it. It makes him feel warm and reassured.

 “Wanna come in? It’s much more comfortable than the hallway.” he tries to reason, and yawns. All he wants is to get back to bed, preferably with the warm presence that is Tim.

 Quietly, he nods and let’s go of Jon, but very reluctantly so.

 The two of them shuffle back into the dark bedroom, where the covers are kicked aside in a messy tangle. Clear evidence that Jon himself has trouble sleeping as well, even though it is obvious by now.

 Almost wordlessly, the two of them climb in, much like they did the other week in the shared hotel room, and simply hold each other close.

 “Thank you.”

 The words are so quiet, Jon almost misses them. But he doesn’t, and he knows exactly what they mean. As bad as he is with communication and interpersonal relationships sometimes, he understands. He understands and he feels the same.

 “Of course. I missed you, too.” he answers, just as quietly, and without thinking, presses a quick kiss on top of the bright purple mop of hair resting on his chest. It’s ironic, really, how their positions are now in reverse to what they were back on the work trip, but they don’t mind either way. All that counts is that they are close now.

 They don’t talk any more than that, because they are both way too exhausted to hold a conversation.

 As they drift off into sleep, they remain wrapped around each other, soaking up each other's warmth and company like a sponge. Being together feels just right.

 Tim and Jon have been friends for a while, and neither of them could tell when the romantic feelings had first started to show themselves. But they know that they care deeply, and most of all, need each other.

 Falling asleep together is bliss, and it makes them feel safe and loved. It really shouldn’t have been surprising that the two of them had so much trouble after getting a small taste of what could be.

 Jon and Tim hold each other close as they finally fall asleep. Fingers brush softly over beard stubble, hair and exposed bits of skin while their lips quietly find each other in the dark. And really, for now that is worth much more than words.

        “I can’t sleep without you anymore.” They don’t say that night, but they do so the next morning when they wake up, almost in the same embrace as they have fallen asleep in.

 They face each other, and their words are sealed with another kiss. It feels different, in the light of the morning, but it feels just as right as searching for one another at night, exhausted but safe together in the dark.

 “I love you.”, the two of them blurt out pretty much simultaneously soon after, and really, what else is there to say?

 Both Jon and Tim are happy, after all. And so they make their way into the kitchen for breakfast, hand in hand and with a warm, quiet and content feeling spreading throughout them.  

[mcatra]

Catra works at burger king part 2

AO3

art by quackleroys part 1

As promised, Adora had taken care of everything even though she never asked her to. Adora and Glimmer’s family as well as Sea Hawk’s parents had paid off the damage like it was nothing. In fact a sparkling new window with the Burger King logo appeared installed at her next shift, looking so pristine it almost seemed out of place in the dingy establishment. Rich people were scary. 

Catra had expected the usual beatdown lecture from her regional manager, but to her surprise nothing came. Adora took 100% of the blame and omitted Catra from the narrative, and as much as she hated to admit it she was grateful. No way she could have ever afforded to replace the door when she couldn’t even afford a whole meal at Burger King. 

Not with the $3 she had currently in her account. Right now however, she was pretending to be asleep in the back of the student council room until all of Adora’s annoying prefects left. They were currently having a meeting about the annual swimming preparations.

Usually Catra would be more outspoken to represent the students of her old school, but today she didn't want to speak to anyone. She hadn't heard a lick of an apology from the girls, who had just thrown money at the problem until it went away like it never existed. They probably expected her to thank them, and no way were they getting a thank you for something they caused.

They finished up their meeting, chatting about whether or not they should be allowed to wear bikinis or something as they shuffled out.

‘Is it really okay to just let Vice Captain sleep through the entire meeting?’ Mermista complains, and Catra tenses in annoyance.

‘Shh, don’t wake her. I don’t see you sweeping up glass until midnight from when your boyfriend smashed her workplace door.’ Adora chides, and Catra feels a little bit smug.

‘...Fair point.’

The door clicks shut, and silence settles over the classroom. Catra can hear Adora tiptoe quietly over to her.

She half expects for Adora to shake her awake, but to her surprise she feels fingers carding through her hair.

Catra freezes, trying to keep her breathing even. What was she doing?

The touch is soft, gently pushing her hair back and brushing her scalp.

She lets it go on for a few seconds, before she grabs Adora’s wrist, letting one eye lazily open. The blonde's eyes were wide, like a kid that got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

‘Stop touching me so familiarly. We’re not friends.’ Catra says, but there's no heat behind her words. She forces herself to get up, fake yawning as she gathers up her books.

Adora's cheeks are pink, her hands bunched up around her skirt. 'Do you have another shift? I’ll come.'

'No one asked you to!' Catra replies, making her way down the now empty corridor. Of course Adora memorized her work schedule. She starts power walking her way to the school doors, hoping to lose Adora on the way.

All she wanted was to finish her shift, get a few hours of study done so she could get the damn scholarship and graduate. It was for her first choice of university, and they were granting a free ride to the top student of their school. If she could just manage that, she could get a degree and finally get a good job. Catra didn't need distractions by her rival, not everyone could effortlessly get full marks on every subject. She had to struggle for it, if she was ever going to get out of this cursed cycle.

‘Are you seriously following me to work?’ Catra says, deadpan. Adora was scurrying after her like a puppy with separation anxiety. She stops walking, watching the blonde trip over herself in her hurry to catch up to her on the street. ‘Dude I’m begging you, please get a life.’

‘Why not? I want some chicken nuggies.’ She says. Catra shoots her a look of disgust.

‘You’re going to get pimples and DIE from all this junk you eat!’ Catra whaps her over the head with her textbook. Adora winces, and almost walks into a lamp post.

‘Aww, are you worried about my health?’ Adora teases. Catra goes to kick her, but the school captain dodges it, her wide grin illuminated by the setting sun.

‘Eat a damn vegetable instead of coming to Burger King everyday! You’ll ruin your perfect figure.’ Catra shoots back, hoping that Adora would care more about maintaining her sculpted body than annoying her everyday. Wait, that wording was kind of-

‘You think I have a perfect figure?’  

The brunette can feel her face heating up, and she knows she’s blushing. She shoves Adora away, turning away so she can’t see her face.

‘Fuck you and your fucking corn-cob abs, stop eating here!!! Unhealthy shite!!’ Catra curses, but Adora just laughs, clutching at her wrists so she can’t hide her furious blushing.

‘Even when you’re angry you can’t stop complimenting me.’ Adora replies, biting back a grin.

‘Don’t make me perma-ban you from the store!’  

--

The day of the swimming carnival finally arrived, colourful flags decorating the outside pool. Hundreds of students were seated on the concrete steps, waiting to compete in the relays, or currently in line to the canteen.

Adora looked good in her one piece swimsuit. It highlighted her muscled back that was currently glistening from the pool water. Her golden hair was damp, curling around the edges. She looked almost ethereal, sparkling in the sunlight.

Meanwhile Catra sat in the bleachers in her ratty t-shirt and shorts watching her, feeling like the embodiment of that one Taylor Swift song. Stupid Adora.

Adora's friends had coordinated their outfits to match their Bright Moon house colours, all pinks and purples. Mermista's house was dressed in blue, while girls from Perfuma's house fawned around the lifeguard on duty. They had even painted their faces with coloured zinc.

How nauseating.

‘You want some hot chips?’ Scorpia asks, plonking herself next to Catra. She nods and scarfs it down, eyes laser focused on Adora’s long legs.

As the day dragged on, they were doing admittedly worse than she would’ve liked. It was proving difficult to get them motivated, and doing 3rd out of 4 houses was not a good look.

‘Scorpia, you’re up for the 100 metre freestyle relay, do not let me down.’ She pats her friend on the shoulder, glaring at the other teams.

‘Aye aye, Cap’n!’ Scorpia grins, doing a mock salute.

Scorpia was against one of their biggest competitors Huntara, another girl from Perfuma’s house. They line up at top of the platforms, and when the whistle blows she dives in.

It’s close, but Scorpia wins by a hair winning the final. Catra grins at her, and Scorpia beams back. Even though Perfuma’s house lost, the blonde was all giddy over Scorpia’s performance.

A voice blares over the loudspeaker.

50 points.

The Horde was now at second place. Catra’s heart starts beating faster, ecstatic. Now they actually had a chance at beating Adora's house! She stands up and swivels around to face her own team.

'Listen up, assholes!' Catra she barks, looking at the sea of mismatched green. Their disinterested eyes blink up at her.

'We're gonna get the most points and we will win!'

She hears a group of boys- Sea Hawks old friends, probably, mutter to themselves.

We?

Why should we try when she won’t even do one race?

I know right. Who even elected her as house captain?

‘Excuse me, what the fuck did you just say?’ Catra growls, marching over to the chad looking teenage boys in her house. Instead of backing down as most people usually did, they glared back at her. The tan one with patches of facial hair named Scurvy stands up to confront her.

‘Miss Vice Captain thinks she’s too good to compete in the relay while we do all the work.’ Scurvy says, and the boys behind him all nod in unison. ‘All of us have already competed and we’re tired.’

‘Uh, does it look like I care? Get back out there so we can beat Adora!’

‘Hell no. We’re boycotting, until you can prove you’re gonna pull your weight.’ He declares, poking a finger at her chest.

By now everyone in the Horde was staring at them, and by their defiant eyes seemed to be agreeing with him. Her position as house captain was slipping.

She slaps his hand away, incensed.

‘What do you think you’re doing, undermining my authority? If I say get back out there, then go! ’

‘Why, too scared to swim? Afraid you’ll lose?’ Scurvy challenges.

Catra grits her teeth. It’s not like she was going to admit to these extras that she was afraid of water. Usually intimidation worked, but they didn’t seem to be backing down either.

As if he sensed her hesitation, Scurvy grabs her arm and his other two friends grab the other. They're surprisingly strong, Catra's arms are like twigs in their grip.

‘Get off me!’ Catra screeches, her pulse speeding up. They start walking her to the deep end of the pool, to the sound of cheering from her house like the traitors they were.

She tries to kick at her captors, but they’re laughing, like it was all a fun game.

Catra feels lightheaded as they approach the edge of the pool. 'Stop it, it's not funny!' She tries again, feeling desperate. Where was the lifeguard when you needed him?

Scurvy gives her a cocky grin, not catching on to her fear. No one seemed to be paying attention to her internal mental breakdown, they had probably thought she was infallible. Unafraid of anything. They swing her back, and then let go.

Catra shrieks as she hits the water, making a loud splash as she falls in. That proved to be a mistake, as she inhales a gallon of water doing so. She splutters and gasps, trying to scramble to the edge but failing. Instead she was sinking, her arms flailing pathetically.

Catra couldn’t breathe, the surface seemed so far away now. She had to be drowning, water rushing through her ears, clawing through nothing. There’s only a rush of bubbles and a pressure on her lungs as they fill up with chlorinated water. People were shouting from above, but it was muffled.

There was a reason why she hated water as much as she did. Their foster mother Shadow Weaver had dunked her head into the bath countless times, holding Catra’s head in place with her sharp nails. She had always said it was to clean her properly, but she knew it was her punishment for just existing in her household. The result of that was her never learning how to swim, and a crippling fear of water.

Catra could feel her legs locking up, paralysing fear coursing through her veins. The more water she inhaled, the more dizzy she got, her limbs feeling heavier than bricks.

Spots appear in her vision, and her lungs finally give out. She had to be on the bottom of the pool by now, but it was strangely calm down here. When she feels her back hit the tile, she blacks out.

--

The next thing she knows is that a warm pair of lips are pressing against her own. They’re soft, and they kind of taste like strawberry chapstick. Her head is still swimming though, like she was still underwater. The person breathes in air into her mouth, and she vaguely comphrends Oh, they’re giving me CPR.

Before she can react, someone practically body slams her chest and she chokes. Before they can do it again she pushes them off her, she was going to throw up. Catra turns to the side and promptly splutters out the entire pool’s worth of water out of her lungs.

She can feel herself being unceremoniously brought back to life, weakly coughing out the last of the offending liquid. Catra can feel herself swaying from side to side, her hands shaking like crazy.

‘Hey!’

The person’s voice is muffled, but soon her ears pop and she can suddenly hear everything again.

‘Catra!’

Everything was too loud, too bright. There were people surrounding them, blurry colours mixing together like the weirdest acid trip she’s never had.

A warm pressure is on her side, and she hazily blinks up at the loud noise in her ear. Blonde hair, a red varsity jacket.

Suddenly she’s panicking for a whole other reason. Everything hits her at full force now, the crowd, the stares, fucking Adora out of all people giving her CPR. Her greatest weakness being exposed in front of everyone. She felt like a kid again when Shadow Weaver frequently tried to drown her bathing her in front of the other orphaned kids as they watched on.

Sweat beads at her forehead, everyone is talking so loudly and her gut is twisting and she can’t breathe.

She couldn’t swim?

What’s wrong with her?

Someone call an ambulance!

‘No-No ambulance-’ Catra stutters, keeling over. Like she could afford a $400 glorified taxi to the damn hospital. She tries to inhale, but it just comes out as rasping.

Catra frantically scrabbles at her throat, leaving long red marks across the wet skin. She can feel hot tears bead in the corners of her eyes, contrasting with how cold the rest of her body felt.

‘Catra!’

It was Adora again. ‘You have to sit up, open up your airways.’ Catra glares at her, but the blonde manhandles her into a better position. She takes in another breath, and to her relief air starts flooding back into her lungs again.

‘Everyone back away, you’re stressing her out.’ Adora commanded the crowd.

'Here, wear this.'  She takes off her jacket and bundles it protectively over Catras shoulders. ADORA is emblazoned on the back in big white letters. Catra looks at it in confusion, until belatedly realizes her drenched shirt stuck to her like a second skin so it was almost see through. She grips the jacket around herself tighter, embarrassed.

The lifeguard and the teachers finally arrive, and she’s carted away from the crowd.

-----

Catra jolts awake to a loud rattling knock on her garage door. She blinks a few times, getting the grit out of her eyes. Since when did she get visitors? The only person who knew where she lived was Scorpia.

The knocking gets louder, more urgent. It vibrates through the concrete walls of the tiny refurbished garage. Catra gets up, still feeling groggy from the fever. Adora’s varsity jacket laid next to her, still smelling vaguely like the blonde mixed with chlorine. Somehow she had made home after the swimming carnival. The last thing she remembered was collapsing onto her mattress after refusing to go to the hospital.

‘Catra? Are you in there?’

What the hell? Is that Adora?

Catra forces herself to stand up, her bare feet pattering across the cold concrete. She kicks a few cardboard boxes out of the way so she can manually roll up the door. The automatic function broke ages ago, and her landlord still hadn’t gotten it fixed.

Why on earth she was letting her worst enemy in her home was beyond her, all of the water that went up her brain must’ve made her stupid.

She only has the strength to lift it halfway, the sunlight blinding her in discomfort.

‘Why the fuck are you here?’ Catra growls, however she must not paint the most intimidating picture. Probably gave the impression of a cracked up ogre in a cave.

Adora laughs a little, as she tries to maneuver her way into the garage. She ducks underneath the roll up door like it’s a game of limbo, and to Catra’s satisfaction she bangs her head on it.

‘I brought soup.’ Adora lifts up a small plastic bag full of ingredients. She looks around nervously for a kitchen, but becomes increasingly distressed as she starts to realize this whole place was only one room.

‘So- uh.’ Adora chokes out, clearly embarrassed. ‘This is...where you live.’

Catra rolls her eyes at her attempt to not insult her living conditions. Her furniture consisted of an old mattress, a sofa from someone's front lawn, a rotting table and chair from the council cleanup, and a tiny mini-fridge and a portable stove she got from the dump, all crammed into the small garage.

It wasn’t too bad, as terrible as it was at least it was her space. The landlord never came to bother her and charged half the amount of current rental homes in the area, so all in all it was a pretty good deal.

‘Not what you were expecting, Princess?’ Catra yawns, scratching her back to return to her bed. ‘Let me guess, Scorpia told you where I lived. God knows why I tell her anything, she can’t keep a secret to save her life.’

Adora nods, placing the groceries on the table. ‘I just wanted to see if you were feeling any better after…’ She flounders, looking extremely out of place in her iron pressed pristine uniform.

‘Take a seat.’ Catra gestures to the sofa. ‘Don’t worry, I got rid of the lice ages ago.’

Adora gives her a look.

‘I’m kidding.’ She wasn’t, but it didn’t look like Adora was gonna sit on it otherwise.

Adora gingerly sits down, avoiding the odd looking stains on the fabric. They sit in silence for a minute, as she drinks in her surroundings.

‘So, the boys who pushed you into the pool got suspended.’ Her school captain says, scratching her little blonde poof on the top of her forehead.

‘Good.’

‘How’s your fever?’

Catra sighs into her blanket, rolling around to glare at the other teenager. ‘Fine. How long are you planning to be here, anyway?’

‘Oh, uh-’ Adora gets up to rummage through the plastic bag she brought. ‘Also I was just gonna stick around to um, make you some soup. I brought meds too!'

She triumphantly brings out some Panadol, only belatedly realizing that there was no tap inside to pour Catra water.

‘There’s a hose outside if you want water. You have to boil it though.’

‘R-right.’ Adora says awkwardly, but makes no move to actually leave to go outside. Instead she picks up the contents of her plastic bag and makes her way to the fridge.

‘Oi, don’t touch my food!’ Catra calls out, annoyed.

Adora pauses, the ingredients that needed to be chilled still in her arms as she opens the fridge door.

‘There’s nothing in here though.’

‘Uh, yes there is. Don’t you see that stack of bread? Managed to convince my manager it was expired, so I got it for free. Don’t go touching it.’ Catra says proudly, smug that she had finessed the Burger King system. ‘Also Lonnie never notices the condiments going missing. You can’t use my ketchup and mustard packets for your stupid soup, you hear?’

‘Catra.’

‘What?’

‘How...how can you live like this? I had no idea it was this bad.’ Adora says, kneeling in front of the mini fridge like she was gonna have a first class breakdown.

Why was she the one getting upset? She wasn’t the one who lived here.

‘Kinda rude thing to say as a houseguest, much.’ Catra scoffs, offended. ‘Sorry for not living in the lap of luxury like you do.’

‘But even applying for welfare, surely the government could-’ Adora objects.

Catra could almost laugh at how naive she sounded. ‘What, so they could catch me and throw me back into the foster care system?’

‘You know what I mean. Even Shadow Weaver’s foster home was better than-’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ Catra snaps, her blood suddenly boiling with rage. Just the mere mention of her name brings a flood of memories she didn't want to remember. Adora looks back at her, surprised at the sudden outburst.

‘I’d rather die than go back to Shadow Weaver. You know she used both of us just for welfare money?’ Catra seethes, stalking her way closer to Adora. They’re face to face now, the blonde frozen in place.

‘I..’

Years of resentment start spilling over, and Catra can’t stop.

‘Not like you care, since you were adopted out by a nice rich family with your new sister Glimmer. Must be nice to be picked out with your goody goody nice girl persona and forget all about the people you left behind huh?’ Catra grits her teeth, she’s shaking in rage now.

She still remembers that day when the tall rich lady with the pink and purple hair decided to adopt a child to fill the void in her heart left by her deceased husband.

When she picked Adora, even though she was going to be adopted by Shadow Weaver already as her favourite.

How Catra was left alone with nothing when Adora went with Angella, the abuse increasing tenfold as Shadow Weaver took out her anger at her. No one ever asked to see Catra, with her untrusting eyes and feral mannerisms.  

‘Who would adopt me, right? What a joke. Now you come in here insulting my place when I made it here on my own, with no one to help me?!’

Adora stares at her in shock, speechless. The words hang in the air, like they were a rope choking them both. They look at each other until Catra’s rapid breathing calms down.

‘I..I’m so sorry Catra. I did try to contact you...but you never replied...’ Adora says, throat tight with grief.

Catra rolls her eyes. ‘Like Shadow Weaver personally hand delivers me mail, got it.’

Adora swallows, lip trembling. ‘I really did try to go back, I did. But Shadow Weaver told me you had run away, and I couldn’t find you anywhere no matter how hard I tried. I thought...I thought-’

A tear drops down Adora’s face, and she quickly wipes it away before Catra can react.

‘So when I saw you had transferred to my school, and that you worked at Burger King, it was like a miracle to me. You were here, and you were alive, and I was so, so happy to see you. Even if you hated me coming to your workplace everyday, or that you thought I was only doing it to rub my good fortune in your face... I just missed you so much, I couldn’t help it.’ Adora exhales shakily. Her words seemed genuine, and Catra felt her heart tighten.

More tears spill out, and this time Catra reaches over to cup her face. She can feel her last remanments of her anger dissipate as she thumbs away the hot liquid from Adora’s red cheeks.

‘Why are you the one crying? IIIdiot.’

‘Mmn.’ Adora mumbles, her hand curling around Catra’s. ‘About yesterday. Seeing you go under the water like that, I just couldn’t bear to lose you again. So I found myself here. I'm sorry.’

‘I get it. I seriously get it.’ Catra pushes Adora’s nose up so it resembles a pig. ‘You big stalker.’

Adora wrinkles her nose. ‘I’m glad you know now though. Eating Burger King everyday was awful.’

‘Then don’t eat here!’

‘But I wanted to see you.’ Adora pouts, and Catra rolls her eyes. So clingy.

‘Just you wait. I’ll take first place and get that scholarship so I can finally get out of this dump.’

The blonde smiles, but it slowly turns serious.

‘Catra...I know you don't want any help but it doesn't hurt to accept some? I'll bring food to you- proper food and not mouldy Burger King leftovers.’

The offer sounded tempting, especially to her empty stomach. But Catra forces herself to resist. She had her pride, and she knew better than to rely on Adora as a steady source of help.

‘I’m not gonna rely on you again, you know. I’m not here to fuel your savior complex, or to alleviate your guilt.’

Adora contemplates for a moment. If she thinks too hard she’ll injure her tiny brain, Catra scoffs.

‘If you won’t accept it for free...How about a trade?’

Catra raises an eyebrow, letting go of Adora’s face. ‘What do you want from me? Let me guess, same thing the other dudes who propositioned me for cash?’ She makes a lewd motion with her fingers, and Adora gasps in scandalized shock.

‘N-no! Wait, did you-’

Catra blinks, before realizing the insinuation. ‘Fuck no! I've never done anything with anyone except for-’

They both recall the CPR kiss from the day before, and they look away, faces burning.

After an awkward moment of silence, Adora speaks up.

‘How about we be friends again? That's all I ask for.’

‘Hah?’

‘Also you have to unblock me and allow me to message you!’ Adora says triumphantly, her eyes suddenly burning with intensity. It catches Catra off guard.

‘What the fuck? You see me at school?’

‘And I get to message you everyday.’  

'Once a week.' Catra shoots back.

'Once every 3 days.' Adora says. She's too close, and it's frying Catra's brain.

'Fine!' Dealing with Adora was exhausting. How on earth Glimmer and Bow handled it, was beyond her.

Adora smiles, and it's almost blinding. ‘Great! I’ll start bringing you groceries then! Plus I owe you for the whole door breaking thing.’ She snatches up Catra’s old cracked phone, and starts adding herself as a contact.

‘Wait I forgot about that! Give my number back!’ She tries to swipe for the phone, but Adora lifts it out of reach.  

‘Too late! Friendship is about not tallying about who owes who! It's equal!’

‘If I wasn't sick right now I’d pummel you to the ground.’

‘Nah you wouldn't.’  She was right but she wasn't gonna say that. ‘Come on, let’s take a photo together for my contact pic.’

Adora places her arm around Catra, angling the phone to get a good picture.

The flash blinds Catra, and when they turn to look at the screen it’s a less than flattering image. Catra’s face is scrunched up, while Adora has posed, looking flawlessly photogenic.

‘Ughh, do you have to be perfect at everything?’ Catra complains, ducking underneath her arm. ‘Delete it, I look like I’m having a seizure.’

‘Well I love it.’ Adora smiles, adding Catra’s number into her own phone. She’s looking at the photo fondly, sending it to herself. ‘It’s our first photo together.’

God, did Adora need to be this embarrassing all the time?

‘Yeah yeah, you sap.’ Catra grumbles, but she can’t help but smile too.

Flash .

‘You smiled! You smiled!’ Adora crows, grinning ear to ear from behind her phone camera. ‘And I got it on camera!’

‘I’m going to break your phone!’

This new 'friendship' with Adora was going to kill her.

[just-horrible-things]

Masterpost - Misc Writing

Things I have written on this blog that do not fit into any of my main stories, catalogued for my convenience and perhaps yours.

Falling 488 words How to mourn someone who has fallen from the Edge of the world

Night Without End 480 words Atmospheric, invitation to a world without sunrise

The Pursuit Of Understanding 719 words Engineered vampire studies medicine via a hands-on approach

The Dragon And The Musician 1071 words A musician is kept as part of a dragon’s hoard

The Spider’s Door 2455 words Cultist Simulator fanfic, a woman muses on her occult mistakes and their consequences

Phoenix 674 words Rebirth through flame

Blood By Moonlight 1,126 words A clawed, fanged monster hunts his nemesis across the junkyard

Seven Cages 822 words Seven caged prisoners play “In my grandmother’s shopping basket...”

Red Bracelet Please 354 words Attending whumper’s soiree as a whumper without intending to be one

Flotsam 416 words Monologue on the inhuman callousness of the sea

Cancer 517 words Nuclear horror. In the aftermath of the bombs, everyone has cancer.

Spite And Cold Water 2,051 words Forced to tread water in the dark inside a large water tank.

The Murder of Mara 321 words A family accused of allowing their grandmother to starve.

Cob And The River 1,361 words A man learns why he cannot cross the same river twice.

Cob’s Revenge 349 words Revenge fails to free a man from his ghosts

I Can Still Fight 2,762 words Soldier in a foreign jungle finds that he cannot die

Feeding The Dogs 648 words In the aftermath of a remote facility’s destruction, a surviving employee shares what little food she has with the dogs

Mind If I Cut In? 539 words Mistress-at-arms intercepts a suspicious young lady during a ballroom dance

I Don’t Want To 396 words BBU training. A reluctant pet learns to dissociate. Forcefeeding. Implied noncon.

Not Dead Yet? 343 words Mercenary provides perfunctory first aid to a collateral casualty

Beg To Differ 379 words Caged rebel defies captor even in defeat

Let Me Carry You 1,437 words Shen and her mother face the end of the world together

Don’t Hold Your Breath 347 words Kidnappee is probably a terrible person

Trust Doesn’t Enter Into It 392 words Pillow talk between dangerous people

The Storm To Come 563 words Top down view of a battle and the start of an invasion

Family 1169 words Career criminal sits a man down with a cup of chamomile tea

Dyad - 1, 2 2376 words Immortal tortured by his nemesis, Cultist Simulator fanfic

Did That Hurt? 517 words Demon hunter catches his prey

Can’t Sleep Like That 561 words Angst over unnamed character being unable to sleep in the bed with his partner

At Attention 2,819 words Soldier is left standing at attention overnight

Sky Stories Lean Times - 564 words Battle at the Empyrean - 491 words Tiny Sunless Skies fanfics

Atna 4,225 words Soldier in a fantasy setting brings a foreigner back to her camp to keep him from freezing to death. Both are quarantined, but he receives medical help.

Waiting for the High Hunt 1,896 words Cultist brings food for a prisoner who will be hunted as prey on the full moon.

Zack Marsh - 1, 2 1,504 words A phonecall from a life he thought he’d put behind him plunges Zack back into a criminal underworld

World Aflame - 1/10, 2/8, 3/5, tbc 4,279 words Science-fantasy revolution

Prisoner of War - 1, 2 1,984 words Defiant prisoner chooses dignity over amenities

Daphne’s Wings 1,695 words Angel wings are grafted onto a human’s back, in an age before anaesthesia

Feral Weapon 470 words Cyborg subdued by full system overrides

Nightmares 892 words Unseen overseers keep captive workers in line with the threat of nightmares

Masks 1,000 words Strangers flirt at a party

Barbed Wire Gag 325 words Description of damage done

Hibernation 1,433 words If humans hibernated, and could be forced into hibernation

Stitches 731 words Torturer stitches captive’s eyes closed

Ceasing to Be 579 words Condemned criminal’s execution by airlock, reflecting on identity and regret

Enthralled 716 words Telepath confronted about an infatuation

Halcyon Days 1,122 words Lives fallen to pieces after too much of the sex, drugs and music lifestyle

Camilla - 1, 2, 3, 4 3,791 words Inhuman protagonist shaped by the perceptions of others

Strain 7K 805 words Hero goes to villain for help after contracting deadly engineered plague

Weapon 1,747 words The making of a cyborg assassin, from childhood to escape

Tables Turn - 1, 2 2,037 words Revenge whump: first one way, then the other

Linked 1,278 words Thought-sharing telepaths get into a fight with aggressive soldiers

Sick At Night 489 words Unspecified illness causes nightmares, dysregulated temperature and nausea

Masterpost updated 05/10/2023

[ask-decomposingko]

cracked open a cold one eh? *offers winter wear*

[They take the winter wear and quickly plop it on over their regular clothes as they head inside the room. Enid is unbothered by the temperature, while Rad shivers and hugs himself in an attempt to keep himself warm below the winter clothes.

"It's freezing in here!" Rad looks over at the thermostat. "Did he turn it down?"

"Probably," Enid says, approaching the thermostat and getting on one knee. She squints and wipes off the frost that's formed over the numbers on the reader. "Oh my cob."

"What did he turn it to?" Rad speaks between chattering teeth.

"Way too cold," Enid mumbles. She quickly turns the nob to raise the temperature back up to what it normally is. "He's definitely in here somewhere."]

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 31)

The smell of buttered, barbecue corn on the cobs mixed with the scent of burning firewood makes Mila’s mouth water like the cookie monster catching sight of chocolate chip cookies, as she and Juri make their way down the dark street.

“Can you smell that?” She asks Juri. “Smells nice, right?”

Juri nods eagerly and the blue eyes glistens hungrily. 

She’s holding a bottle of vodka in her right hand and Juri’s hand in her left as they struts down the street towards the bonfire and the sound of chatting people. Juri’s dressed up in a knitted sweater, sent from mama in Russia for his second birthday. The shirt was way too big for a two year old, so Mila left it in a drawer until they had to leave, to escape when all hell broke loose. It’s maroon with white, traditional pattern over the chest. 

“Are you excited?” Mila asks as they pass Jessie’s house, and a sad feeling overwhelms her. Poor Jessie. She shifts her focus from the now empty house to Juri, who nods at her. “Yeah. Me too. It might be fun. You remember the barbecues at Ellie’s and Joe’s?” Juri nods once again. Of course he remembers ‘grams’ and ‘gramps’. It felt weird to Mila that he knew her foster parents better than his real grandmother, whom he called ‘baba’. But baba was always baba. Juri gestures at her, expresses a feeling of longing for the three of them. “I miss them too, Malysh.” She smiles. “Think about the barbecue.”

That’s a thought that cheers both of them up. Mila loves barbecues. She has experienced several very different variants of the event during her short lifetime. Hot summer evenings at the Dacha at home in Russia, when the whole neighborhood gathered from the surrounding summer cottages in the largest garden and built a barbecue of old brick or sheet metal. Everyone contributed food and the vodka was lined up on a table. They danced, sang, there was always someone playing the accordion and some dexterous ribbons of wreaths. The smell of smoke settled deep in the clothes, but it did not matter, it was part of the experience itself. It was so easy and homely. In the wee hours, when half the vodka ration was consumed, there could be both hopak dancing and sniping. During the autumn harvest, people also grilled, especially during forest excursions and mushroom picking. Mama fried mushrooms over an open fire while papa boned fish. In the winter, they did the same thing, dressed up in several layers of clothes and fur hats. Their breaths stood like ice clouds from their mouths, but they didn’t freeze and the fire kept their cheeks glowing hot. 

In the States, she got to experience a different kind of barbecue, not as folksy, but still nice in that American, exaggerated way. Joe Galka owned a Weber grill, a piece as big as a piano, Mila thought, to which he was very attached. He could grill most things. In the summers there was a barbecue almost every weekend and friends and family were invited. Mila’s, Billy’s and Adam’s friends were always invited. Even in the States, people brought food to the festivities; meringue pies, apple pies, ribs dripped with sauce, mashed potatoes, salads and god knows what. Significantly less strong booze than the Russian festivities, but all the more pale beer; disgusting Corona and Budweiser, that the middle-aged men, gathered around Joe’s grill, wearing the same type of cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirts, happily sipped. And sniping was out of the question in the suburbs. When Mila met Jim and they went on hikes just the two of them, Mila went in childhood. They grilled over an open fire in the woods, or at a beach, using firewood and matches, an old frying pan and some simple tools. They brought food, coffee, booze and, God forbid, a big bag of marshmallows. Jim loved those grilled, melting sugar bombs, while Mila couldn’t stand them, instead preferring grilled fruit with a little honey and cinnamon. Then they picked out the guitar and the harmonica and sat there, playing and singing Creedence, country and other great songs, in the light of the fire, drinking booze, hearing the waves smoothly run into the sandy shore, the leves rattle in the breeze. 

Despite the fact that Mila sees herself as an established barbecue visitor by now, after exploring her way through several barbecue cultures, this is a new version. Post-apocalyptic barbecue. 

“Wonder what food we get, except for potatoes and corn.” Mila says. Juri chuckles at the thought of an all potato and corn barbecue. “Maybe some-” Mila thinks. “Green beans? Tomatoes? Oh, and what if they have found some broccoli! You’d like that.” 

Earlier in the day, Mila took Juri out outside the safe zone and went on a journey of discovery in a direction they had not previously gone. After 1,2 miles they came to an open field which Mila immediately recognized as a vast potato field. There were a few, ravaged plants sticking out of the soil, but the chance that there were a lot of potatoes hidden underneath was huge. She let out a roar of joy at the discovery and frightened a couple of birds that angrily lifted from the untouched, rugged earth, and flew away to calmer lands. Some distance away, a barn loomed and Mila purposefully steered her steps towards the grayish-brown building, where the paint had begun to flake from the walls. She pushed open the door and went in, made sure that no walkers were lurking before releasing Juri from the harness and instructing him to search for potato sacks, and other useful things. Mila found the potato sacks, while Juri found a rusty shovel. They returned to the field and Mila began scanning the earth for a potentially lush piece to start digging on. Then she started digging, while Juri began to scrape the ground by hand. The sweat evaporated from her forehead, but being out there in the big field with Juri, performing body work, created an endorphin surcharge within her she hadn’t known for a long time. She felt alive. The smell of the earth, the still breeze and the sound of the shovel shaft digging into the ground. It was agrarian, made her homesick for Russia, to the Russian countryside. Sure, it was barren and vast beyond infinity, but she loved it. Her strong, Russian soul needed an outlet right there and then. Mila started singing. A hair-raising, Russian partisan song, something her grandfather sang for her as a child. Then she needed to cheer up the mood a bit, so she started singing “Panic” by The Smiths instead. Whether it was merry was questionable, but the melody was catchy. She then went down on her knees and started to dig with her hands in the soil. Suddenly she felt something in the ground, and triumphantly she pulled out the lower part of a potato plant, where surely eight or ten potatoes were still attached, and they looked really good!

“Jackpot!” Mila exclaimed. 

While digging and tearing up cluster after cluster of potatoes, Mila and Juri talked about all the good potato dishes they could now make, making their mouth water with saliva. Potato gratin, fried potatoes with dill, moussaka with potatoes, one of their absolute favorites. They stopped digging after a sack was filled. Mila had to carry it home, and the sack probably weighed well over 30 kilos, so they stopped working and decided to come back another day, by car. 

“Sorry, malenkiy. Time to use your legs.” said Mila, hoisting the sack onto her shoulder, next to the rucksack. Well, time to use mine as well, she thought and felt the heavy bag weighing her down. If Grandma could carry two full buckets of water from the well twice a day for seventy years, I should be able to carry thirty kilos of potatoes back to Alexandria.

Thank goodness she had tough, lanky muscles. And they didn’t run into anyone on the way back. Soaked in sweat and back inside the Alexandria walls, Mila dropped the heavy bag in front of Carol in the kitchen. Carol looked as if she could not believe her eyes at the sack. Mila went and took a much-needed shower, while Carol and Juri started peeling potatoes. She then helped Rick chop wood. 

“Ya’ good at this.” Rick said as Mila, once again dripping with sweat after that very unnecessary shower, easily split firewood after firewood with the other ax.

“It may sound like a stereotype, but in Russia you learn this early in life, if you do not want to freeze to death.” Mila huffed and wiped her forehead on her arm. “Grandma and grandpa didn’t have electricity. Then you had to chop wood.”

She took a second shower an hour later, and got herself and Juri dressed up in, not fancy clothes, but clean ones, not covered in soil, dirt and potato peel. In front of the mirror she inspected the scar after the wolves machete. It was still red and bumpy, but had healed nicely, a slight miracle since she hadn’t been taking care of it nearly as well as Denise told her to. She then stepped into a pair of blue, worn jeans and ripped a top over her head. While Juri brushed his hair, Mila inspected him and cracked open a bottle of vodka. 

She’s accustomed to pre-parties and has been an avid supporter of the phenomenon since her teenage years; never arrive sober to a party, or a funeral, or anything really if you’re an alcoholic like Mila.

She looks at the brand new bottle of Russian standard in her hand, contemplating if she should sweep it at the spot to increase her chances of ‘mingle and jingle’. Before she turns thought into action Maggie comes up at her right side. 

“One could think everything was somewhat- I dunno, pre- all this.” Maggie says and lifts her eyebrows underneath the side swept brown hair.

“Feels odd.” Mila admits. “Nice, but strange. Be happy you don’t feel sick yet. The barbecue smell would kill you.”

Maggie looks down at the grey tank top underneath the checked shirt, smiles at the sight of her own stomach. It’s not prominently pouting yet, but in a few weeks it won’t be possible to hide the bump. 

“Can’t wait.” Maggie replies ironically and nods towards the vodka bottle.

“You’re prepared for disaster or what?”

“Mouth water.” Mila says simply. “Bad breath.”

“Might be because of the mouth water.” Maggie grins as they catch sight of the bonfire and the Alexandrians, gathered around it. Maggie sniffs in the air as a puff of grilled meat comes their way. “Okay, I’m starting to get really hungry. Holy moly.”

“Preggers cravings.” Mila teases at the same time as she sees Abraham walking towards them, dressed in a button down shirt for the occasion underneath his jacket. “Looking sharp.” She greets him as he reaches the three of them. His red hair burns even brighter in the light of the flames from the fire. 

“Gotta make the best of the opportunity. It’s a party.” He smiles and places a big, bearded kiss on her cheek and gives Maggie a warm hug before he squats and holds up his big palm towards Juri. “High five, little man.” Juri slams his small hand into the big man’s and looks really happy. “Heard ya’ found the potatoes.” Abraham says excitedly. “Great job, dude!” 

Maggie and Mila look at each other. Yup, Juri’s the hero and Mila’s the burro, carrying the goodies more than 1,2 miles back to Alexandria. Nah, I can handle it, she thinks as she sees Juri’s proud grin, being the potato boss for the night. 

“Come on, Romeo.” Mila starts walking towards the fire, that lures her towards its glowing sphere of heat and safety, awakening something primitive within her, a feeling that fire equals safety. 

All of the Alexandria residents seem to be attending. Even Carl sits on a log, dragged in front of the fire, next to Aaron and Morgan. His head is wrapped up and he looks a million times better than two days ago. The color has returned to his cheeks and the sheriffs hat rests homely at the brown curls. Mila smiles at the sight. Rick appears in her field of sight at the same time. He looks fresh out of the shower and as he approaches she clearly feels a faint scent of men’s perfume. 

“Carol’s over the moon with the potatoes.” He greets her as he stops in front of her. 

“Glad I could contribute.” Mila says. “Where’s Daryl?” She looks around, searches for the broad man on the other side of the bonfire and in the shadows, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “I haven’t seen him today.” 

Rick shrugs a little, as to say ‘who knows’. 

“Come on.” He nods with his head to the side. “Let’s get ya’ beer.”

“Great.” 

While Juri runs off on his own, around the bonfire to sit with Carl, Mila follows Rick over to a table, set with beer and soda. Michonne’s leaning up against the table top with a Coke in her hand, probably mixed up to a Jack and Coke if Mila knows her right, talking to Sasha and Eugene, who, judging by the strong scent, have bathed himself in shaving water. Carol, an Alexandrian woman and Denise sets the table with bowls of food. Mila’s astonished over the amounts of different dishes and sides they managed to put together for the evening. Sasha and Abraham went on a run and found an abandoned greenhouse, which hid all sorts of vegetables that miraculously survived on their own during the apocalypse. Another group of Alexandrians went fishing and also ran upon a few bewildered chickens, who had to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the festivities. 

“The wall’s coming along nicely.” Mila says as she lets her gaze wander to the wall, where the big gaping hole where the church tower crashed through about a week ago. The debris is all gone and the hole is temporarily fixed with a few cars, but the structure that's supposed to become the new, reinforced wall, is already appearing. 

“It’s gonna be solid.” Eugene says and nods, trying his absolute best to seem cool about it. 

Mila’s been amused by him ever since he introduced himself to her; he’s intelligent, awkward and quite strange, but he certainly entertains her with all his clumsiness and strange talking. Despite her nearly ten years in the States, language is still the biggest challenge. Mila’s still learning new words and expressions and Eugene has undoubtedly made it a challenge for her to understand what he’s saying from time to time.

“Yippie.” Mila preaches as Rick puts a beer bottle in her hand. She takes it and chugs the bottle immediately, feeling a sudden rush of intense thirst only an alcoholic can feel in the presence of beer and booze. The intellectual with the prominent mullet stares at her as she takes the last sip of the bottle and puts it away. His expression pokes at her shenanigan-nerve, fuck she has to mess a little with him. “I’m into some real kinky shit after five bottles.” She therefore says and grins wolf-like at Eugene. 

Eugene’s cheeks turn red like the fire next to him and he swallows. Michonne laughs into her can and both Rick and Sasha grins, struggling not to laugh. Mila reaches forward and pats poor Eugene on the arm.

“Just fucking with you.” She says and blinks. “Cheers.” And she opens the vodka bottle and offers him the first sip. “Here, it’s good for the nerves.”

“You’re a real tearaway.” Sasha says and breaks off the cap on a new Corona light.

“Extremely poor impulse control.” Mila takes back the vodka bottle and takes a bountiful sip, once again feeling the deep sense of thirst down her throat. “It gets worse with age, I notice.” She peeks behind Sasha at the table. “So, what’s for dinner?” 

Carol, who happens to hear her question, comes up to the group at the table, holding a pie between the oven mittens.

“A real feast, that’s for sure.” She explains and puts the pie down. “Ribs, chicken, fish, vegetables, potatoes. Daryl must’ve hit the jackpot, he brought back an entire forest.” Carol smiles and removes the checked oven mittens from her hands. “And pie for dessert.”

“Are we celebrating something?” Sasha says. 

“Being alive?” Michonne taps her fingers at the can.

“Anyone having their birthday soon, or just had? That could be a reason.” Eugene suggests. 

“Don’t even know what date it is.” Mila says and takes another sip of the vodka. “Mine’s in June.”

“Gotta celebrate something.” Eugene continues.

“How ‘bout-” Rick begins. “A party for those who can’t be here.”

“A death party?” Mila raises her eyebrows at Rick. 

“That’s morbid.” Sasha wrinkles her nose.

“Could work.” Mila continues. “Russian funerals often turn into parties. At first people cry something incredibly for hours and hours and hours- Then you drink until you can’t feel feelings anymore.”

“Sounds even more weird.” Eugene expresses. “I like Rick’s idea better.” 

“I’m gonna drink anyway.” Mila snorts and continues to drink. At least she’s dressed up somewhat properly for a funeral reception; black top, black leather jacket and, yeah the fedora might be questionable, but at least she wears black boots! 

They sit down and eat when Aaron, Glenn, Rosita and Gabriel have sliced the grilled meat and put it on the buffet table. Juri’s plate is filled with potatoes and vegetables as well as Mila’s and he’s got a juice box safely placed between his cute feet. They sit on a log with Rick and Carol; eating, drinking and talking while the fire crackles, the cicadas sing behind the wall. The sky above them is starry and the sparks from the fire rises towards the gleaming stars, millions of lightyears away. But Daryl is nowhere to be seen. Where the hell is he? Mila looks around every now and then, but Rick assures her that he’s alright. Why wouldn’t he? To calm her mind, she empties the vodka bottle and runs to get another one, just as the party attendants does a turn two at the buffet.

“Ey, look who’s back.” Rick suddenly says and looks at Mila- no, over her shoulder, behind her. 

Mila turns on the log and looks behind her. Daryl comes walking down the street towards them. In the warm light of the fire Mila can see that he’s fine, unharmed, but holds something behind his back. She gets up from the log, a movement that makes the others pause their conversations and laughter to look at her. Mila gets ready to give him a scolding, but Daryl’s facial expression makes her change her mind. It’s soft, somewhat gawky, but yet soft and not stern and grumpy. It strikes her there and then that he hasn’t looked surly at all lately, at least not while looking at her. She takes a step over the log and walks to meet him. The wrinkle created between her eyebrows softens as he stops in front of her in the light of the big fire. 

“Where’ve you been?” She asks and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Had a thing to do.” He says and screws a little, but keeps his back straight. “I’m here now.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Mila looks him straight in the eyes. “But where were you? I was worried.”

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, Mila has come to understand Daryl’s idea, that words are unnecessary sometimes well by now. He takes out what he’s hiding behind his back, and holds it out for her. A guitar. An acoustic sunburst Epiphone, with engraved flowers on the pickguard. Mila stares at the beautiful instrument as Daryl hands it over to her; the shimmery pearly detailing in the maple neck, steel strings and rosewood details. She lifts her gaze and looks at Daryl in awe. 

“Though ya’d like it.” Daryl looks at her, not sure if she’s happy or disappointed. “Ya’ said ya’ played.” 

Yeah, yes she did say that. But she didn’t think he’d remembered. She can’t speak. Instead, Mila wraps her arms around his neck, with the guitar’s neck still in a firm grip. The last time she got a guitar, it was Jim who surprised her with one. He blindfolded her and drove her to the music store where he led her in, like a blind. Mila stumbled on the threshold and tore off her blindfold, red in the face with anger over his shenanigans. But the anger ran off when she saw where she was.

“Pick one.”

“Pick what?”

“A guitar.” Jim reached out his arms to his side, to the guitars hanging around the walls of the shop. “Whatever one you want.”

Mila picked a light sunburst Fender that time. It was left behind in Brooklyn along with Jim’s old, trusted Gibson. At least their guitars were together. 

“Thank you.” Mila whispers into his ear and releases her grip around Daryl’s neck.

It’s one of the finest, most thoughtful gifts she has received in a long time. She squeezes the neck and admires the wooden piece. He really went off and found her a guitar. Around them, the other inhabitants have paused whatever they’re doing, to look at them. Abraham is the one that finally breaks the silence, still chewing on a glazed rib.  

“Well, whatcha waitin’ for? Play it, Jersey.” He points at the guitar with the bone.

Her mouth turns into a wide grin. My God, she hasn’t played in awhile and the guitar isn’t even tuned. She takes Daryl’s hand, intervenes her fingers with his and drags him off to the overturned log, steps over it and sits down next to Juri, who looks overjoyed with the possibility of some live music. Her number one fan. Daryl sits down next to her and Carol hands him a plate of food. It’s like someone pressed ‘play’. Everyone starts talking to each other again, eating and drinking, just as before Daryl appeared with the guitar. While Daryl eats, Mila begins to tune the guitar, at the same time as she gets meaningful glances from both Maggie and Carol, who blink at her.

“I did not know you played guitar.” Says Carl and looks wide-eyed at the guitar.

“I'm full of surprises.” Mila smiles cheeky at him.

“Can you make requests?” Rick says and takes a sip of his Corona.

“Depends on the request.” Mila replies. She knows that Rick has a similar taste in music as she; they have more than once hummed along to the same country songs while working, so he won’t have to be disappointed. “I’m a little rusty.” And not nearly drunk enough to feel completely at ease with performing in front of these people, she thinks and looks around. For some reason this is different than before. Different from the bars and the family gatherings with the Galka’s and Jim. “I’ll punch you if any of you say Wonderfall.” Mila squints her eyes at her crowd as she tunes the low E-string, considering the guitar to be in playable condition. 

“Thought it was Wonderwall?” Glenn looks at Maggie, slightly confused.  

“I’ll punch you.” Mila places her fingers on the cold steel strings and strikes a loop of chords, searching for a melody. She quickly finds the sound she’s looking for; huh, she wasn’t that rusty after all. With her tongue in between her teeth she starts playing something random.  

The sheriff's tapping boot is enough for her to pick Rick as her target. 

“Come on, I’m not doing it on my own.”

Rick takes a sip of beer, chuckles a little. But Mila’s serious. As is Michonne. 

“Do it Sheriff.” Michonne bumps Rick in the side. “We got ya’ back.”

Mila doesn’t wait for an answer. He won’t be able to resist later on. She adjusts the guitar on her leg and starts playing a tune, praying to some higher power that her voice won’t break. 

“As long as I remember, the rain's been comin' down. Clouds of mystery pourin', confusion on the ground. Good men through the ages, tryin' to find the sun. And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain-”

She gets chills down her spine as she manages to pull the Creedence classic off pretty decently, sitting at the log between the men in her life, surrounded by her new family. Just as when she performed it at that bar with Jim that first time she performed like that in her life, a couple of years ago. She vomited into a bin before going on stage, or more like a corner with a rug of the small, crowded bar in Brooklyn, but as soon as she had the guitar in her hands and started singing, she felt calm, secure. Jim used to say it was a miracle she learned to play the guitar at the pace she did, having only played piano and the violin during her childhood. Guitars was a dumb instrument, according to her papa. Pff, what did he know? Prison was for dumb people, and look where he was? Mila lets the chord die after the last “-and I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?”, then continues with Springsteen.  

“On a rattlesnake speedway in the Utah desert, I pick up my money and head back into town. Driving 'cross the Waynesboro county line, I got the radio on and I'm just killing time-”

She notices Daryl’s gaze in the corner of her eyes, just as she notices Juri’s nodding head and Abraham saying, mids a chuckle of delighted surprise: 

“I’ll be damn.” 

It’s like inviting all of them into a very special place of herself, a place where she can be something else than a mom, a dental nurse and a girl with a broken past. With a deep, lingering gaze, she tries to communicate that to Daryl, as a way of explaining her trust in him. To her, music is medicine for the soul and the heart. A heritage she has passed on to Juri when giving him the walkman for his birthday. 

“The dogs on Main Street howl, 'Cause they understand. If I could take one moment into my hands, mister I ain't a boy, no I'm a man. And I believe in a promised land-”

She removes her fingers from the strings and the chord echoes out into the night, blends in with the cheering. She’s warmed up now, overflown with the rush of happy adrenaline playing the guitar causes her, just as the applause makes her blush. Okay, let's go with something happy, she thinks.

“Here’s a lil' something to cheer ya’ll up.” She says in her most convincing country-voice, puts her fingers into a ‘G’ and: “Daddy won a radio and tuned it to a country show, I was rockin' in the cradle to the cryin' of a steel guitar-”

It takes Rick ten seconds to hear what song it is, he knows his country music. He jumps into the chorus, at first doubtfully, but encouraged by both Carl and Abe, who have taken out a cigar from his jacket, he seems to think ‘what the hell’, and sings a little louder, with more feeling. And it’s fun.

“Singin 'in the bars and- Chasin' that neon rainbow, livin 'that honky tonk dream.' Cause all I've ever wanted, is to pick this guitar and sing. Just tryin 'to be somebody, just wanna be heard and seen. I'm chasin 'that neon rainbow, livin' that honky tonk dream- “

He continues to sing with her as Mila follows up with the Beatles “Rocky Raccoon”, but lets her continue on her own after that, with both “Thunder road” and a country version of “I’m on fire”.

“Your accent disappears when you sing.” Maggie says as Mila takes a few sips of vodka. 

“Yeah I haven’t figured the reason for that out yet.” Mila wipes her mouth on the back of her hand as she grabs the guitar again, her fingertips pulsating from having to work the strings again. “But singing country with an accent would sound weird, I guess? Okay, one last one.” 

She ends her one woman-show, which could just as well be seen as therapy for her musically starving soul, with Kate Bush’s “Running up that hill”, as the flames from the fire licks the now pitch black sky, sprinkled with millions, billions of stars.   

“Say, if I only could, I'd be running up that hill. With no problems…”

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

[monstersandmaw]

Male octomer x reader (nsfw) - Mermay story #3

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This has been up on my patreon now for a little while, and folks seemed to like him a lot over there, and the preview I posted got some excitement too, so I hope you’re ready for Caspian!

___

As first days went, this one wasn’t necessarily a complete disaster.

However, walking into the specially-designed meeting room at the aquatic and oceanography research station in Starfall Springs with a very suspicious looking (and entirely innocent) wet crotch, you did feel your cheeks heat up. The room itself reminded you strongly of a beach hut or the like, with scrubbed and white-washed wooden floors, and white-painted, ship-lap walls, and a wide window at one end, overlooking one of the sandy beaches of the wider curve of coastline that was Starfall Bay itself.

The research station was built right at the end of a rocky cob; a curving, protective wall which jutted out into the sea. A section of the floor of this room at the furthest end of the station had been cut away to allow a kind of trap door to be opened into the water itself, allowing for merfolk of all kinds to be present at meetings and consultations, without running the risk of drying out on land.

The merman who was currently resting with his huge, bulky, tanned arms on the lip of the opening took one look at your soaked jeans and hitched a lopsided, cheeky smirk. Your feet faltered at the sight of him; not only was he incredibly handsome, but he was also massive. He had dark hair that was cropped very close to his skull in a side-shave that revealed tapering ears which were attractively tinged with an inky purple tone at the tips, while the rest of his hair was longer on the top. Sections of it flopped into his warm, cocoa brown eyes, and your heart definitely lurched in its regular rhythms.

Below him, visible through the rippling water, you could see glimpses his lower body. He was not like the other merfolk you’d met so far since starting work at the station. Eight muscular tentacles billowed gently in the washing currents, the skin a rich, mulberry purple with paler, lilac undersides. You tried not to stare or flush any hotter.

The only other person in the room besides the two of you was Garreth. When the leader of the Starfall Bay Conservation Society saw the slightly soggy state of you, the werewolf tipped his head back and laughed. “I see Naomi forgot to warn you about the tap in the kitchen…” he chortled.

The octomer in the water chuckled softly to himself, a low, amused rumbling, and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Not my finest moment. Is everyone here?”

Garreth shook his head. “We’re still waiting on Elliott. He was supposed to have brought me the report on the plastic survey for this quarter, but he didn’t show up yesterday.”

The octomer snorted. “Probably forgot… or got distracted by pearl diving or something…” he said dismissively.

“Let’s hope he brings it with him today,” Garreth said. “Now,” he added, turning to you, “Let me introduce you properly to Caspian. He’s the newest of our three representatives and mediators between the merfolk and the land-folk. He’s also working on a joint project at the research laboratory which is measuring ocean temperatures and the effects on the coral reefs just offshore.”

“Awesome,” you said, stepping over hand holding out your hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Caspian’s upper body was tanned a deep, nutmeg brown, and as you bent down, you saw a smattering of darker freckles across his cheekbones and down the length of his straight nose. His eyes were dark and kind, and they sparkled when he smiled. He really was huge though, you realised as you got close; had he been a human, he might have been pushing seven feet tall, with the broad shoulders and muscles to match.

His hand engulfed yours as he shook it, and his palms were rough and hard as a life-long sailor’s might be. “Looking forward to working with you on this project,” he said. “If our fourth member ever turns up…” He cocked his head slightly and you watched his tentacles tuck in so that he didn’t occupy quite so much space in the hatchway. “Ah… speak of the devil-fish…”

The final arrival shot into view with a stream of bubbles, a splash of water, and a burst of bright orange colour. He stuck his head above the surface, grabbed onto the side, slipped off, waved his long, floaty tail to bring him back to the edge and tried again. “Sorry I’m late!” he gasped. “I didn’t realise the time…”

Garreth laughed. “It’s alright, Elliott. We were kind of expecting you to be late.”

Elliott’s pale cheeks flushed almost as scarlet as his fiery tail, and he looked away. “I did bring the report this time though,” he said, shyly bringing out a clipboard with the report filled in with special pencil on waterproof paper.

The mer looked to be barely into his twenties, with long, flame-orange hair that was currently tied back with a length of seaweed at the nape of his slender neck. Sections of it had come loose, however, and they had plastered themselves to his alabaster face, half covering bright green eyes. Beside Caspian, he looked like an ornamental koi or betta fish, more suited to the safety of a secluded pond than the rough moods of the open sea.

Caspian, however, looked like he could weather anything the sea threw at him.

Your first assignment on the new project - monitoring the health of the reef, including pollution levels in the water - took you out into the field with him as your partner. You, of course, took the small RIB that the organisation owned, and Caspian had promised to meet you out there. True enough, as you slowed the small boat, he popped his head up above the water and grinned at you.

“You made it!” he called, waving.

“There was doubt?” you chuckled, cutting the engine and dropping the boat’s small anchor.

He only laughed. “You want me to check the anchor’s set ok?”

With a smile, you said, “Sure, if you wouldn’t mind.”

When he’d re-emerged, you passed him the various bits of equipment for data and sample collection and he dove down repeatedly, breaking the surface with minimal splash each time before handing you back whatever it was he’d collected for the project.

After the last sample had been stowed safely, he clicked his tongue at you and you looked round, puzzled. “Did I forget something?”

Caspian flashed you a broad grin. “Not exactly. Here…” and he handed you a shell.

At first, it looked like an ordinary scallop shell; pretty enough, but nothing special. Frowning with mingled confusion and curiosity, you turned it over and saw that the shell had a strange, dark colouring to it. The natural discolouration, however, resembled a little smiley face, with two eyes and a little curving, slightly wonky mouth that very much reminded you of someone… You held it up next to his face, laughing, and snapped a picture on your phone. “Looks just like you!” you said. “I didn’t know scallops painted portraits…”

Indignantly, Caspian cupped his hand and slapped it into the water, sending a large wave spraying straight at you. With a shriek, you lurched away from it, caught your calves on the side of the RIB, and fell backwards into the water.

Panic flared instantly and you flailed and sucked in a mouthful of water before you could stop yourself. In a rush of dark tentacles, Caspian grabbed you and practically threw you back into the RIB. Coughing violently, you rolled over onto your hands and knees, and he cursed.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t… Are you alright?”

You couldn't answer immediately, and when he got no response, he started to haul himself up onto the boat to get to you. The flimsy thing rocked alarmingly and then began to tip under his enormous weight, and you flapped your arm at him to try and get him to back off. It wasn’t going to sink, but he could still roll it enough that the contents - including you - might very well all roll out. You hadn’t the breath spare to tell him you just needed a moment.

He seemed to get the message and flopped disconsolately back into the water, still clinging to the side of the boat and staring at you with wide eyes.

With a tentative croak, you said, “I was not ready for that…!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think that… Well… I guess that’s it: I just didn’t think.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes stinging from the salt water, and still streaming from coughing so hard, and you saw the worry in his big brown eyes. You pushed yourself upright, sitting back onto your knees to catch your breath, and ran your hand through your dripping hair. “Good thing I dropped my phone into the boat when I fell,” you said wryly. “If I’d have lost that, you’d really be in trouble.”

His lopsided smile flickered back into life across his face as the worry receded, and you shook your head. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “If you were a landfolk guy, I’d at least make you buy me a drink for that,” you grumbled. “Jeez, now everyone’s going to think I’m completely incompetent. Can’t work a simple tap on my first day; can’t stay in a simple boat on my second… ugh.”

“You can tell them I did it,” he said.

“Yeah?” you snorted, raising your eyebrows. “And who do you think they’ll believe? The handsome genius researcher, or the clumsy new kid?”

Caspian blinked at that. “What?”

“Yeah. Just what I thought. Look, I’m going to get these samples back to the station before they all get cross-contaminated or something, and get me into some warm, dry clothes. It might be summer, but the wind is freezing out here. I’ll… see you back at the station when the results are back, I guess.”

“Wait,” he called as you started towards the outboard. “Wait… are you angry with me?”

You’d started to shiver with the windchill on your soaked body. “No,” you sighed. “No, I’m not angry. I’m just… cold. And embarrassed, I guess. I’m not a very good swimmer and I panicked. Look, forget it, ok? I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, you just left him and turned the RIB back to the station.

Garreth was standing on the jetty, watching you come in, and when he saw the state of you, his eyes widened. “What the hell happened?”

“Caspian.”

The head of the team scowled. “What? Are you ok?”

“Fine,” you snapped. “Just cold.” You tossed him the line and he secured the RIB for you.

“I’ll sort all this,” he said, gesturing at the samples. “You go inside and get dried out.”

With a watery smile of thanks, you brushed past him and headed inside.

But of course, you had no spare clothes with you because you’d left the bag - which you’d deliberately put out that very morning for just such an emergency - in the hallway of your apartment. “Fuck!” you cursed as you realised where it was. “Fucking perfect.”

It was only then that you noticed that you were not alone. A very sheepish and unusual-looking creature was standing at the research station’s main entrance, staring straight at you. “Hello?” he said in a quavering tenor.

He was one of the strangest mer you’d yet encountered, with a large, orange shell behind him, and crab legs sticking out the bottom of it, while a humanoid torso rose out of the opening so that he looked a little like the mer equivalent of a drider or arachnid.

You turned to him and said, “Can I help you?”

“I… I’m here to talk to Garreth about some activities for the children’s summer camp… but if this is a bad time?”

“It’s a bad time for me, but not for him. He’s just tying up the RIB out back. He’ll be here in a moment, I’m sure.”

A second or two later, Garreth’s heavy boots on the wood announced his return. “Leo!” he grinned when he saw the hermit-crab mer standing there awkwardly, blushing and trying not to stare at your chest where your t-shirt was now plastered to your skin. Garreth turned to you and said, “Did you have some spare clothes?”

Miserably, you shook your head.

“Hang on. I’ve got a t-shirt you can borrow at least. You can hang anything else over the chains on the jetty. With this breeze and sun, they’ll be dry in no time. Just… tie them down well, ok? No need to lose them and have you going skinny dipping…”

You all snorted a laugh at that, and in no time you’d put on one of Garreth’s huge t-shirts and had hung your shorts over the little safety chain along the jetty. It felt a bit indecent to be sitting there in the sun wearing only your underwear and a colleague’s t-shirt, but there was no one there to gawp.

At least, you had thought you were alone until you glimpsed the smooth, billowing movements of a now-familiar octomer swimming through the waters of the harbour towards the station.

You’d been trailing your toes in the water, leaning back on your hands, but as he changed course and swam directly over to you, you sat forwards, hunching a bit and tugging the t-shirt down as far as you could. It still only grazed the top of your thighs. You felt the heat flushing from your face all the way down to your collarbones, even before he surfaced.

Caspian, for all his rugged size and good looks, appeared even more flustered and awkward than you as he stared at you. He couldn’t take his eyes off your bare legs for a very long time, and when he did, he swallowed thickly and took a couple of goes at speaking before anything actually came out. “So… uh… I… I hoped you’d still be here,” he finally said.

You just raised your eyebrows. He really didn’t deserve to be given such a hard time over this, but you were embarrassed.

The octomer smiled sweetly and said, “I… I had hoped our first job would go better… You see… I’ve never worked with a human before.”

“I thought you were doing a joint project with the research lab in town?” you asked, surprised.

He nodded. “I am. The team is composed of non-humans.”

“Oh.”

“You said… You said if I were landfolk you’d make me buy you a drink…”

“Huh, I did, didn’t I?” you smiled.

Caspian’s chocolate coloured eyes drifted downwards again and you watched the thick tentacles writhe below the water.

“Look, it’s fine,” you chirped before he could speak. “I fell overboard, I got wet, no harm done. Let’s put it behind us. But next time I’m definitely not standing up at all in that thing.”

He hitched a lopsided grin, conjuring a dimple in one tanned cheek. “Listen, if we’re starting over, I want to ask you a question. Do you know about the Moonlight Festival?”

You frowned and shook your head. “No.”

Caspian swallowed and licked his lips nervously. “Ok, well… it’s… it’s a long-held festival in the bay. On certain summer nights, the sea glows. Way back when, we used to think it was magic, but now we know it’s actually just bioluminescence caused by a species of dinoflagellate called Noctiluca scintillans…” he broke off at the slight smirk of amusement growing on your face. “Fuck. Way to take the ‘magic’ out of it. Look, it’s a big festival, and the sea glows, and the landfolk like it, and the merfolk come and piss around in the water, and it’s pretty. I thought maybe you’d like to come. With me. But…”

“Caspian,” you said, laughing softly. “You’re not at all what I expected, you know that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, a touch defensively.

You took a deep, slow breath and shrugged. “I went to college with a lot of guys who looked like you.”

“There were octomer at your college?” he blurted.

“No!” you laughed, tipping your head back and cackling at the thought of a bunch of eight-limbed octomer flip-flopping down the corridor of a very human-orientated, landlocked college. “Oh man, I wish there had been. No, I just meant there were lots of big, handsome, sporty-looking guys who relied a lot on their looks and ‘charisma’ to get what they wanted. I honestly thought you were one of them… Clearly, I was very wrong.”

His face was a mask of confusion. On the one hand, he looked pleased, and on the other, somewhat deflated. “So I’m just a huge nerd?”

“You want to know something?”

“Go on then.”

“I’d rather go to a festival about bioluminescent plankton with a nerd than with one of those guys…”

Caspian bowed his head and rumbled a laugh. “Alight then. And I promise to behave this time…”

You stood, self-consciously holding the hem of the over-sized shirt close to your thighs, and looked down at him. His jaw was ever so slightly slack, and his eyes shone. You bit your lip, unwilling to entertain the idea that the huge octomer could be attracted to you, despite the evidence to the contrary. Deciding to be a little braver, you let go of the fabric of the shirt and let it blow about a little in the breeze.

Caspian’s throat bobbed and he ducked a little lower in the water. “I’ll… yeah I’ll see you then,” he mumbled, and then he vanished.

With a boost of confidence like that, you felt a little bolder about your choice of outfit for the festival. When the evening came round, it found you wandering down through Starfall Springs towards the beach wearing loose summer clothing and simple sandals. Little lanterns had been lit all along the beach, and you were astonished to see the sheer number of merfolk in the water. You’d not known there were so many who were willing to interact with the landfolk.

Like a pod of beached dolphins, some had even hauled themselves up onto the sand and were laughing and chatting with the landfolk, while others played about in the water. You could see a faint blue glow as they breached and splashed, but the sun was still up, and the full effect of the bioluminescence was not really visible yet.

You hadn’t been in Starfall Springs all that long, so you didn’t really know very many people. In fact, you didn’t know anyone outside of work at the research station yet, and that job was only a part time one that you’d secured until you could find another that was full time. Following your instincts, you headed away from the crowds and towards the research station at the far end of the bay.

You’d not arranged a place to meet Caspian for the festival, and since your fateful first trip, your schedules had not actually aligned. You figured that without having organised anything, the station was the logical place to go. Plus it stopped you looking like a lemon, standing on the beach on your own.

All was dark and quiet inside the station, and you didn’t even bother going inside. Instead, you made your way round the outside, following the boardwalk until it became the jetty, and sat down to watch the sunset with the curving wall of the cob behind you.

Time passed, accompanied by the rush and hiss of the sea, and of the laughter and music of the festival in the bay beyond the station. There was a lonely kind of peace to it, and you took your sandals off and trailed your toes in the water again. A silvery blue shimmer rippled through the water as you moved, and you smiled at the sight of it. You’d seen videos of the phenomenon before, but had never experienced it in person.

A shadow moved in the water and you instinctively recoiled, drawing your feet up. Sliding his head out of the water, Caspian looked up at you, his handsome face highlighted with blue and white lights as the bioluminescence ran off him. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You lowered your legs back in and laughed. “It’s fine. I was a bit lost in thought anyway. You found me then…”

He smiled and swam closer, the water flashing in mesmeric pulses around his body. “I figured you’d come here,” was all he said in answer. He raised his hand and the plankton flashed across his fingers. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, swinging your feet back and forth and watching the lights dance.

Caspian watched your movements as though captivated.

“Can I ask you something?” you said after few moments.

“Sure.”

“When you said you’d never worked with a human before, does that also mean you’ve not really been around many humans at all?”

He flushed and looked away. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’re staring at my feet as though they’re something… alien.”

“I can’t imagine what they’re like, that’s all. What it’s like to have only two limbs… to walk… to… yeah. I’m sorry.” He broke off, scratching the back of his head.

“You can touch if you want,” you said, perhaps a little coyly.

He turned in the water and looked up at you with eyes wide and alive. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Just don’t tickle me. I don’t want to kick you in the face.”

“You’re not that angry with me then, or you wouldn’t have warned me,” he grinned as he swam even closer and raised his hands in the water.

He slid his cool fingertips over your ankle and the top of your foot, and the moan you let out was not a sound you’d expected or intended to make.

“Is that ok?” he asked, touch faltering.

“Mmhmm,” you said. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, if tough, and as he closed his fingers and thumbs around both ankles and gripped experimentally, you inhaled sharply. If he’d wanted to, he could have dragged you off the jetty and into the water in a flash, but instead, he simply explored you with a stunning degree of reverence and delicacy.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, pulling himself slightly closer to you through the water. His limbs trailed behind him in the water, but you could see they were all flared wide, like an open parachute.

“So are you, Caspian,” you replied. “And you’re the most beautiful colour… you know that?”

He smiled and ran his palm up your calves.

You’d parted your legs before you knew what you were doing.

Caspian’s touch faltered and he looked away. “I…. probably shouldn’t…” he whispered.

“Caspian?”

“Yeah?” he said, his rich baritone hoarse and rasping all of a sudden.

“Can you… I mean… Can octomer leave the water at all? I know octopuses can, but… I actually don’t know all that much about your kind…”

He nodded. “Sure we can. Not indefinitely, but for a good amount of time. Why? You want me to come up there and join you?”

“I think it’d be easier than me trying to tread water…” you smiled.

“I’d hold you up,” he said, but he made his way towards one of the sturdy pilings which supported the jetty and latched his limbs around it. They were as muscular and powerful as the top half of his anatomy suggested, and with relatively little effort, he hauled himself up with a rush of glittering water.

Once he was on the wood of the jetty, with phosphorescent lights running down the lines of his bulky yet sinuous body, you felt your own mouth go very dry. He loomed over you while you remained seated, and he used his tentacle-like legs to pull himself towards you.

“Not too freaked out?” he said.

“Not at all.”

You turned to face him and he settled himself down beside you. You raised your hand and tentatively traced the lines of his collarbones and down his pecs, almost testing to see if he were really there, and not some salt-water hallucination. Caspian sucked in a breath at your touch, goosebumps prickling all across his torso.

“Ticklish?”

He shook his head, drops of sparkling water scattering around you.

“You like that?”

Mutely he nodded, and, feeling emboldened by his reaction, you continued to touch him, working lower and lower until you came to his hips. The skin at the transition between his human upper half and his octomer lower half was a bruised, inky purple, and the texture of it changed too, from smoothly human to a thick, tough sensation, almost like wet leather. His breathing hitched as you passed on down and shyly ran a fingertip along the top of one of his massive tentacles.

It coiled tightly and then went slack on the wood of the jetty. He started to keel over to one side, as if he were melting under your touch, and he barely caught himself on one arm. “Fuck…” he gasped. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

His head lolled backwards slightly and his lips parted to let loose ragged breaths.

You glanced down at his body and saw between his limbs that something else was becoming visible. When he saw you looking, he huffed an embarrassed laugh. “Look at the state you’ve got me into,” he snorted, and he started to pull back, pull away from you.

“Caspian, don’t…” you said. “You don’t have to… I… I want this… if you do…”

He fixed you with an unreadable look. “You mean it?”

You nodded. “You’re gorgeous, and funny, and intelligent… and… I trust you.”

He let out a shaky laugh and bit his lower lip hard. He put the flat of his hand gently onto your leg and began to slide it upwards, pushing the material of your clothes up with it, never breaking eye contact with you. He shifted closer on that writhing mass of limbs until he was rearing up above you. He let one tentacle slide around your ankle, and another began to creep up your inner thigh.

You tipped your head back and closed your eyes at the strange sensation of it. When he discovered a moment later how aroused you were, he moaned and rumbled something that might have been a half-swallowed curse. “You’re so warm,” he said, letting the tip of that tentacle play over your skin.

Fire shot up your spine the moment he began to circle and nudge you, and you arched your back. He caught your face tenderly in his hands and kissed you. His lips tasted of salt, but as his tongue found yours, you suddenly didn't mind. He continued to play with you while he kissed you, teasing you with the smooth, cool tip of his tentacle. When he sought out the heat of you more deeply, you felt yourself clench around him as he pushed gently inside you.

“More,” you gasped, loving the stretch of his tentacle inside you. “Please…”

He nodded and eased you down onto the jetty behind you so that you were lying flat on your back. He used two of his tentacles to undress you and then spread your legs, and once you were open for him, he began to squeeze around you, coiling and covering you with four of his limbs around each of your legs.

“Gods, you look so beautiful,” he said, face alight with wonder as he gazed at you. “You’re so beautiful…”

In the soft light you could see his cock now, flushed purple and fully hard, and weeping a pearly pre-come profusely down its length. It was shaped like a smaller tentacle, thick and ridged towards the base, with a more pointed head, and it coiled lazily in the summer air, drooling drops of his pre-come down onto your thighs. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” he asked.

You nodded.

With the highlights of bioluminescence in his hair and on his body, he looked incredible, and it was hard to believe he wasn’t some sea god or something, come ashore for the night as if out of a fairytale. As it was, you didn’t have time for any more lust-filled musings. He slipped the tip of his cock inside you and you gasped as he stretched you. The stretch grew until he filled you utterly, and as he seated himself fully inside you, he bowed his head over you, his whole body tense and taut.

“Gods, you’re so hot…” he hissed. “I mean… the heat of you is… it’s…” he shuddered and then began to move with an embarrassed chuckle as you grabbed his hips.

He started slowly, but soon his rhythm picked up pace. The tentacles that were wrapped around your bare legs began to grip you more and more tightly, each of the suction cups forming a delicious counterpoint to the intense pleasure that the ridges of his cock gave you as he pistoned in and out. His breathing deepened, quickening to match his pace as he lost himself in the feel of you, of being inside your heat. He used his hold on your legs for leverage, and tilted his own hips a little until he caught that spot inside you that made you see stars, and you yelled with pleasure.

“Yes! There… don’t stop… please don’t stop…” you whimpered, and he obliged. He fucked into you hard, the tip of his cock catching you over and over as you felt your orgasm building.

The white hot heat of it rushed up for you and as he squeezed your body just a little tighter with his muscular limbs, he grunted and tipped over the edge first. As the heat of his release filled you, you followed him a second later. Clinging to him, you felt yourself clenching around his cock, drawing his release from him. Caspian’s eyes rolled closed and he bellowed as he emptied himself into you in a series of powerful thrusts.

When he finally finished, he suddenly went limp, his tentacles losing all their strength and sliding off you, unfurling and falling to lie weakly on the jetty. Occasionally one would spasm and then lie quiet again. He just caught himself from crushing you completely, and propped himself up on shaking arms.

“Caspian?” you whispered, still dazed and still clenching around his cock whenever he shifted.

“Mm?”

“You ok?”

“Mm.” He swallowed. “You need me to move?”

“Not just yet.”

“Good, because I’m not sure I can… That was… That was incredible. You’re… You’re incredible.”

You smiled and kissed his forehead since it was all you could reach. He responded by nuzzling gently at your neck and kissing you there.

When he’d recovered, he rolled off you and lay on his back. You turned and watched him for a moment or two, enjoying the sight of his spent, glistening cock still lying openly amongst his limbs.

As you glanced down at your own body, you laughed and groaned at what you saw.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, cracking one eye open and looking at you.

You pointed at your legs. “Either I’m going to have to wear jeans tomorrow, or I’m going to have to say I’ve got chicken pox or something…”

He squinted, and when he saw the spiralling patterns of circles that the suckers of his tentacles had left on your skin, he laughed. Some of them, the ones where the tops of his limbs had been, were almost as big as the palm of your hand. “Sorry.”

You shrugged and lay back down beside him. “I might feel differently about them tomorrow, but right now, I couldn’t care less. You know, for your first time with a human, I’d say that was pretty good.”

“Being a scientist though, I can’t just rely on one experiment.”

You elbowed him hard in the ribs and he grunted. “I’m not a curiosity fuck, you know?”

“I know,” he replied, turning more serious. “But would you like me to do it again anyway?”

Turning your head to face him, you saw the way his eyes glittered playfully in the dark. “Yes,” you said very quietly, and you were met with a broad, happy smile. “Would you?”

One hand moved down his body to take his hardening cock in his fist. It writhed gently in his relaxed fingers, still covered in his come and once again leaking everywhere in anticipation of more. “Very much,” he said, and this time, it was you who straddled him.

************************************

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[lokidoki-imagines]

Everything is Blue

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Content/Warnings: Body image issues, fluff

Words: 2195

Prompt: Can you do something where the reader is half frost giant/Asgardian or human or half dark elf/Asgardian or human? They could be really self conscious about what they are or afraid like Loki is of his frost giant heritage and he could help the reader be more accepting of themselves? Idk I’ve never seen a piece where the reader isn’t Asgardian or human and I think it could be really different 🤷🏼‍♀️

Thank you to @skyrenx​ for requesting! Hope this is okay, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything!

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“I’m not so sure I’m gonna go,” Tying your shoelaces you stood straight, avoiding the glaring from the women before you. “I mean I’ve never been a massive fan of the heat and I always burn in the sun anyway -”

“You’re going and that’s final young lady!” Stomping over to your drawers Darcy began to pull out various underwear and t-shirts while Jane unzipped your travel case you kept under your bed. “Even if we have to hog tie and gag you, you’re going.”

Hip bumping her out of the way you took over sorting through your underwear, tossing in a bikini or two just to make them happy. “Will you stop man handling my underwear if I agree to go?” Your hand stilling you spun to face them both, “I’m not even sure I wanna know whether you were serious or not about the threat to hog tie and gag me...I wouldn’t exactly put it past you to know how.” Quirking an eyebrow at Darcy who lifted a pair of lacy underwear from your case, you began throwing the few summer items of clothing you had at them.

You could hear the smile in Darcys voice, “Who did you wear these for?” Jane snatched them out of her hands and stuffed them back into the case. You rolled your eyes, the topic of your love and sex life was a touché subject at the best of times. “My mirror.” You replied dryly, folding the only two summer dresses you own into your bag. “There, I’m packed. Happy now?”

Your summer wardrobe really was pathetic. Your luggage consisted of a few of your nicer pairs of underwear, a bikini and swimsuit, two dresses, a pair of shorts, one skirt and a few vest tops. “You seriously need to go shopping.” Darcy sighed, zipping the bag as you grabbed a jacket from your wardrobe.

“Just think,” Jane began as you grabbed the case off Darcy, “Sun, sea, sand and most importantly...Shirtless superheroes.” Giggling along with her you had to admit that the vision was pretty convincing. “Trust us, it’ll be so worth it.”

“This is so not worth it...” You mumbled in front of your mirror. Tony had kindly paid for a team vacation to Isla Bastimentos in Panama as part of a ‘team building exercise’. Or at least, that’s how he put it on paper for taxes anyway. You were here for a week and had been fortunate enough to have been given your own room for the duration. 

Turning to get a better angle you tried to suck in your stomach and push your chest out, a fake cheery smile plastered on your face. “I’m so happy to be here!” You spoke in a fake cheery tone, slumping back into your natural stance you groaned. “Who am I kidding?” 

The thought of having to stand and socialise with women like Natasha and Darcy made you want to be sick. Natasha had the perfect body, all womanly curves and toned abs while Darcy was the perfect hourglass, round hips and even rounder breasts. You however, were more like a nice plump pear. Rubbing your thighs and hips you wished that you were as voluptuous on top. Scowling at your pale skin and ice blonde hair you grabbed the straw sunhat that Pepper had leant you and threw the white cover up over your shoulders.

“Stupid tropical climate, why couldn’t it have been a nice team holiday to the Arctic?” Everyone had congregated on the strip of private beach in front of the beach house. You slowed your pace, torn between which camp of people to visit first. The frantic waving of Darcy made your decision for you, wrapping your cover up around your frame more you gave a small smile at the group sat on the sand.

“Why are you wearing that?” Darcy sneered a little, trying to pick the cover up off your shoulders as you sat down. “Because!” Shrugging her off you pulled your hat down a little more, “I told you I burn in the sun, lobster red isn’t my colour.” 

Smiling in thanks you took the cocktail from Jane and said a quick hello to the two Asgardians sat with you. Since the remaining Asgardians had settled in ‘New Asgard’, Thor and Loki had been Avenging. The two once quarrelling brothers had now reconciled and formed a semi-normal relationship with each other. 

Eyeing up a spot in the shade, you quickly stood and joined Loki under a parasol. “You don’t like the sun either?” Stretching your pale legs out in front of you, you let your toes bathe in the sun. He chuckled from his position next to you, laying on one elbow with his eyes cast forward on the horizon. “Heat doesn’t exactly do my Jotun heritage any favours.” 

“I forgot about that,” You mumbled, “I don’t like the heat either. Doesn’t exactly agree with my powers...” You’d wondered for a while about Loki’s heritage, everyone had said how he was the disgraced prince of Asgard, the stolen frost giant baby that Odin had used as a pawn in his plans, but to you he’d always just been Loki. The sarcastic guy who listened to your venting and read books with. Trying to sneak a sideways glance at him you saw him staring at you already. 

“And what exactly are your powers? I don’t recall you mentioning them before.” His words wasn’t as harsh as you probably thought they were, but to you it just sounded as if he was calling you useless. You are useless, what good is an avenger who can’t control their powers?

You picked up your cocktail, watching as the liquid slowly began to freeze over and the glass crack as ice encased it. Handing the frozen glass to Loki you pulled your knees up to your chest as he sat forwards, studying the glass in his hand.

“You can’t control it.” He guessed, having placed the glass on the sand, the ice melting in the sun. You shook your head, “No,” you replied with sadness in your voice. “Not fully anyway, it gets hard to control it when I get emotional.” You could feel a blush creeping onto your face, “I don’t mean to, it’s just that everything seems so much sometimes and...” You cringe at your words, “And I sound pathetic.”

Rubbing your hands over your face you couldn’t believe how much you were babbling, but you and Loki had always had a strange relationship. You’d gravitated towards each other naturally out of your love of books and quiet, conversations began small and eventually grew to you seeking each other out for hour long conversations about the mundane and everyday. Conversations turned to comfortable silence and comfortable silence turned into peaceful sleep. It wasn’t unknown for the two of you to wake tangled together, apologies and blushing glances thrown between you both.

He smiled, “You do not sound pathetic Y/N.” Rolling onto your front you leant up on your elbows, your sunhat on the sand beside you. “What if I’m like you?” You blurted, his eyebrows furrowing. “What if I’m a frost giant like you?” 

His smile was tense, “Your mother is too small for a frost giant,” He began, thinking of the time he’d accompanied you to a family dinner. “Your father however...” He was curious now to say the least, his hand twitching at the thought of being able to find out with a simple touch. 

You snorted at the mention of your father, “You know I never knew who my dad was. Mum said that he came and went quicker than I was conceived.” Loki smirked, an idea having formed in his head while you were talking.

He turned to face you fully, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Why don’t we find out?” Sitting up on your side you shifted a little closer, curiosity in your eyes. “How?”

His gaze dropped, confused you looked down. A royal blue crept along his hand, working its way up to his wrist with intricate patterns engraving itself into his skin. Your eyes met his, “Do you trust me?” 

“Always.” You replied, not even having to think. With a boyish grin he took your hand in his and watched as the same royal blue began to creep from his hand to yours. Frost giant. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you pulled your hand away quickly, a nervous smile on your lips. “Well...that explains a few things.” Laughing a little you felt a sense of peace overcome you, you’d waited so long to find out why you were cursed with these powers and now...now you knew.

“Loki,” You spoke, a lump forming in your throat as you threw yourself at the God next to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck you laughed a little as his wound around your waist. “Thank you.” You breathed, his hair tickling your face.

Your heart began to beat quicker as you pulled back, his arm staying secured around your waist. “It’s not as bad as I made out,” Scrunching your face up in confusion you realised quickly what he meant. “When we spoke about it before, about Jotunheim and Laufey...” His eyes softened as he searched for the right words, “It doesn’t define you, Y/N. You’re still you.”

You opened your mouth to speak when you heard a whistle from behind you, both of you turning to see Tony and the rest of the avengers walking up towards the beach house. “Hey lovebirds, lunch time.”

"Coming!” You shouted, your voice breaking a little. “You’d think he’d give it up with the ‘lovebirds’ thing by now...” You joked, a nervous blush on your cheeks.

“Hmm,” Loki hummed, “You’d think.”

If the day hadn’t been long enough from the travelling and socialising, then the night seemed to be even longer. Drinks and party games had kept everyone up until midnight, and the swirling feeling inside your head only seemed to feed your insomnia. Sitting up in a huff you knew your insomnia was a demon of your own making. Heaving a sigh of defeat, you left your room in your t shirt and panties and made your way up the flight of stairs.

“Going somewhere Y/N?” Your head snapped to see Thor exiting the bathroom, glass of water in hand. 

“I uh, I was just...Well I was-” Who were you kidding? You were desperate for some sleep and there was only one way you were going to get it. “I just need some sleep.” You admitted with a whisper, eyes dropping away in embarrassment. “I’m so tired and I can’t sleep alone anymore, it’s just not the same.”

Thor looked you over, baggy t-shirt and messy hair with bare feet he couldn’t help but think that you were the best thing that had happened to his brother in a  long time. “Well I won’t keep you,” Turning for his room you climbed the last few stairs. “Oh Y/N?” 

Turning to see his hand on the doorknob you tilted your head in question, “Try to keep the noise down, eh?” Mouth flailing open like a fish he sent you a wink before disappearing into his room. Clamping your mouth shut you turned with a shake of your head and stopped before his door, too tired to dwell on Thor.

Pushing the door open as quietly as you could, you were hoping that the room layout was similar to your own. The door closed with a soft click as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were half hoping that he couldn’t sleep either. That the comfort you gained from each other was mutual. Perhaps you’d gotten it wrong, paused halfway between the door and the bed you had second thoughts, you could easily sneak back out and he would be none the wiser. You’d tell Thor to keep his trap shut, and raid the wine bottles that were left downstairs to help welcome sleep.

“Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to come to bed?” His voice cut through the dark as you watched him sit up and turn the bedside lamp on, “Because I don’t know about you, but insomnia seems to have become my new best friend.”

You gave him a small smile as you toyed with the hem of your t-shirt, “And here I was thinking I was your best friend.” His face softened as you padded over to the bed, his eyes never leaving you. “And here I was thinking we were more than best friends.” 

You couldn’t hide the smile no matter how hard you tried, instead, you leant over him to turn the light off and settled beneath the sheets. Twisting to face him on your side, he mirrored you perfectly. “I guess we really are lovebirds then hmm?” Teasing him a little you leant in and pecked your lips against his before turning over, your back pressing into his chest. You felt him press a gentle kiss to your shoulder as his arm pulled you closer, “Goodnight Loki” You murmured, earning you a tired chuckle. “Goodnight Y/N.”

[dancingwithdylan21]

Puppy Love

Summary: The reader’s dog wanders off and she finds him inside of a Jeep that belongs to her gorgeous new neighbor. 

Pairing: cop!Stiles x Reader

Prompt: “Are you seriously interrogating me right now?”

~

“Murphy!”

You swear to god your dog is a ninja. He’s constantly sneaking off and getting his fluffy ass into trouble. He’s a 100lb German Shepherd and he’s worse than a little kid for Christ’s sake. You really should be able to keep track of him by now.

“Murphy! Come here, buddy!”

The beautiful beast is too smart for his own good. Murphy’s a troublemaker for sure, he always needs to know what’s happening at all times. You have a slight suspicion that he thinks he’s a police dog.

“Murphy! Playtime’s over. Let’s go!” You hear a quick bark and your eyes land on a familiar blue Jeep that’s always parked across the street from you. Oh shit.

Murphy is sprawled out on the black back seat of your neighbor Stiles’ pristine looking car. He’s new to the neighborhood so you don’t know him that well. You do know that he’s insanely good looking and that he really loves this Jeep. Wonderful. Your foolish dog is lounging inside of Stiles’ pride and joy.

You run across the street and immediately lean over into the backseat, you try to coax Murphy out but he’s being a stubborn fucker. You’re practically crawling across the seat to grab his collar, your ass is sticking up in the air and of course you’re wearing your pajamas. You’re pretty sure you look freaking ridiculous.

Next thing you know, someone is loudly clearing their throat and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. You reluctantly spin around and there he is, the delicious man known as Stiles Stilinski. Wearing a tight grey Henley and ripped dark wash jeans with combat boots only laced up half way.

Damn does he look good.

You’re suddenly very aware that your pajama pants are covered in purple cats and that you have an over-sized Family Guy t-shirt on as well. Awesome.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

Stiles doesn’t even speak, his eyes just slowly rake over you before he focuses his attention back on the large intruder in his backseat. You snap out of your awkwardness (barely) and jump into a rushed explanation.

“I'm so sorry! Murphy likes to slip out of the house and explore without my knowledge. I came out and noticed that he climbed into your car. I’m trying to get him out now.” You finally take a breath, silently telling yourself to just relax for the love of god.

Stiles bends over a bit and watches as Murphy rests adorably in his backseat. A warm smile appears like he’s remembering a happy memory, “He seems pretty cool. I love Shepherds. I had one growing up named Bullet.” Stiles finishes with a chuckle and it makes you do the same.

“Besides it’s kinda my fault, I just ran inside to get some paper towels.” Your neighbor holds up the roll in his hand. “I left the doors open cause I’m cleaning out the Jeep.”

“This dog is just very nosy.” You add shyly. “Nothing looks ruined but I want to pay to get it detailed just in case.”

“No it’s ok, Y/N. I mean if this happened after I cleaned out my car then I would’ve reacted differently.” He glares playfully at you.

“Oh ok. Thanks for not freaking out.” You grin feeling relieved.

Stiles gives a quick nod then pats his leg as he calls Murphy’s name, the dog automatically jumps up and out of the car without any effort. “Seriously?” You laugh softly. “At least you listen to someone, Murphy.”

Stiles gestures to your cozy pajamas, “Having a lazy Sunday, huh?”

“It’s only like Noon, dude. Don’t judge. I was up late binge watching Shameless.” You mention slightly insecure.

With an amused expression Stiles pops the hood of his car, “No judgement here, Y/N. I’m just used to girls who won’t leave the house unless their hair and makeup is done.” He shrugs at you. That’s weird. He doesn’t seem like the type who’d want to deal with a high maintenance chick.

“Huh. Let me guess…they wear their makeup to bed too?” You giggle while Stiles tilts his head with a knowing smile.

“Are you speaking from experience, Y/N?” He says in a teasing voice.

“Who me? Nah…ok maybe.” You admit sheepishly. “I didn’t wear my makeup to bed though! I just always wanted to be made up when I left the house.”

Stiles hums and squints his eyes like he’s trying to figure you out. He’s too gorgeous. You almost feel like you shouldn’t be allowed to look directly at him.

The brown eyed ruiner closes the hood and all the doors on his car, now giving you his full attention, “So what changed?”

“Oh, that’s a story for another day.” You smirk at him.

“Well…” Stiles crouches down in front of Murphy and holds his face, “I think you and mom should join me for lunch. How does that sound, buddy?” He then glances up at you and you freeze. You feel heat rushing to your cheeks and you decide to just nod in response.

“Sweet. Do you like hot dogs? I was gonna grill some and I have pasta salad and corn on the cob too.”

A sexy man that cooks? Hell yeah. “Sure, sounds good. I’m gonna go change then I’ll be over.” You tell him already walking away.

“Make sure you bring Murphy!” Stiles shouts as you’re about to enter your house. Son of a bitch. He probably likes the dog more than you. That would be your luck.

You quickly change into faded jean shorts and a hot pink tank top, opting out of doing your hair and makeup. You decide that you don’t need to impress Stiles, even if he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. After one last nervous check in the mirror, you grab Murphy and his favorite tennis ball then make your way back across the street.

~

Stiles’ front door flies open seconds after your hand hits the wood, it catches you off guard and it makes Murphy bark with excitement. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was anxiously waiting for your arrival.

The brown eyed stunner ushers you through his surprisingly homey living room and brings you into the kitchen. The smell of vanilla hits your senses as you move around his house and it thankfully calms your nerves a bit.

“Want a beer, Y/N? I have this new pumpkin ale stuff. I don’t know if it’s any good though.” Stiles asks opening his refrigerator.

You saunter over and peek your head in, “Oh! I’ve had that before. It’s pretty good.”

Stiles hands you one with a wink, “Here ya go, sweetheart.” He grins then moves towards the back door. “The pasta salad is done. I just need to grill the hot dogs and the corn on the cob.”

You and the pup follow your new neighbor outside into his backyard and you can’t keep your eyes off of his effortless swagger, every move the man makes is just sexy.

“Need any help?” You take a seat on the nearby patio and watch as he starts up the grill.

“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty, hun.” Stiles smirks your way. You roll your eyes but can’t stop yourself from smiling at the compliment.

“So I’ve only lived here for a few weeks, Y/N. Give me some dirt. The neighbors I’ve met so far seem nice but things are never what they seem.”

“Hm let’s see. Have you met Al yet? He lives a few doors down in the green house?” Stiles shakes his head no and waits for you to continue.

“Well…he suspiciously looks like Santa Clause. And he weirdly disappears around Christmas time.” You try to stifle a laugh.

Stiles tears his eyes away from the grill and shoots you a funny look, “Are you fucking with me?”

“No actually I’m not.” You chuckle. “It’s strange as fuck but he’s definitely a nice guy. Doesn’t bother anyone.”

“So I may or may not live near Santa. I can work with that.” Stiles snickers before taking a swig of his beer.

Murphy stops exploring the yard and comes running over with his tennis ball but instead of bringing it to you, he drops it in front of Stiles.

“Wow Murphy actually likes you.” You say without thinking.

Stiles pretends to be offended, “Gee, thanks!”

“Oh no! I just mean that Murphy doesn’t usually warm up to guys so easily. He’s always been that way. Not sure why, maybe a protective thing?” You shrug your shoulders.

“Murphy’s a smart boy. He can tell I’m awesome.”  Stiles adds with a crooked smile.

“Or maybe he’s just having an off day.” You sass with a straight face. Stiles breaks out into a full body laugh and it’s literally the best sound you’ve ever heard

“I’m just kidding!” You giggle at him. “Murphy likes you and you like him. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, I definitely like him.” Stiles licks his lips as he walks towards you. “But I have to admit, I like his mom a lot more.”

As if that admission didn’t make you completely melt inside, you give Stiles a quick smile and then pop up, “ Yeah I’m pretty awesome myself.”

~

With the yummy food grilled and the patio table set, you and Stiles finally sit down to eat while Murphy lounges in the shade. Part of you is thrilled because you’re starving, the other part is bummed you can no longer admire his muscles while he mans the grill.

“So what do you do for work, Y/N?” Stiles questions before taking a big bite of his mustard covered hot dog.

“I’m an event planner.” “Oh nice.” He delivers a cute smile. “That sounds fun.” “Yeah it is. What about you?” You attractively mumble with a mouth full of corn on the cob.

“I’m a cop.” Stiles tells you with a confident expression. No fucking way. You didn’t think it was possible for this man to get any hotter. You’re now on the verge of drooling because the sexy as hell image of him in a uniform appears in your head.

“Y/N?” Stiles’ deep voice yanks you back to reality. “Earth to Y/N.” “Oh! Uh that’s cool.” You answer sheepishly, tucking a few strands behind your ear which is a nervous habit of yours. With a squint of his eyes and a purse of his lips, Stiles’ curious side is now making an appearance, “What were you thinking about?” He stares intently at you.

Fuck it. “That you probably look really good in your uniform.” You mention casually.

An amused expression overtakes his handsome face, he leans over the table and whispers, “I’ll show you sometime if you want. I even have a gun to go with it.” You don’t trust yourself to speak, so instead your dorky self just looks down and starts giggling. Your reaction causes Stiles to laugh and sit back in his chair, he’s getting a kick out of making you blush. An enticing thought pops into your head, naturally you blurt it out before you can catch yourself, “So that means you have handcuffs.” You must be bright red right now as you lock eyes with your surprised neighbor.

“I mean…well…”  Shit. Did you really just say that out loud?! Stiles recovers quickly, instead of shock there’s now a smirk on his face, “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that, sweetheart.” He shakes his head looking visibly affected by your words. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.” You rush out before chugging down the rest of your beer. You really need something stronger. “Don’t be sorry.” Stiles chuckles at you. “It’s taking everything in me not to handcuff you to my bed right now.” Holy shit. Now it’s your turn to look fucking shocked. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Y/N.” Stiles flashes a crooked smile. “I really like you so I need to do this right. You’re not some random chick that I met at a bar, you’re a hell of a lot more than that.” He finishes and it makes your body freeze up. Stiles quirks an eyebrow, “You gonna say anything back…” He notices you seem a bit flustered and is unsure on how to proceed from here.

Snapping out of your dumb ass stupor, you successfully come up with a plan within seconds, “Actually can I borrow them?” You say nonchalantly.

“What?” Stiles furrows his brows. “My handcuffs?” “Yeah. I have a date tonight.” You narrow your eyes. “He’s not a pussy so I’m pretty sure he’ll want to use them.” Stiles fails to hold back a strangled growl, “Don’t play games, baby girl.” He challenges with a tilt of his head.

Wow, that didn’t take much. You try not to but you burst out laughing, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” You tease now pinching his cheek. He crumbles his napkin up and throws it at you with a pout on his lips.

You hesitate but then decide to just roll with it, “So do you always use handcuffs in the bedroom, Stilinski?”

Stiles ponders for a second, “It depends on the girl. I definitely don’t break them out with hookups. My real ones anyway. I’ll use the fake plastic ones whenever.”

“Why’s that?” “Because it’s never been a good experience with the real ones. The last girl I used them with started crying.” Stiles replies exasperated. “No she didn’t!” You gasp loudly then erupt into laughter. The police officer shakes his head, “If you pull on the handcuffs too much then they get tighter. I warned her so she wouldn’t hurt her wrists. Of course she didn’t listen and freaked out.”

“Wow. I bet that was fun.” You say sarcastically. “Based on her personality…I shouldn’t have done it. My gut said she wouldn’t like it but she promised she’d be fine.” Stiles lets out a sigh. “She must be so traumatized.” You feign sympathy making your neighbor snicker. Stiles suddenly turns serious, “Do you really have a date tonight, Y/N?” “Yes.” “With who?” He asks with his eyes boring into you. “Jeff.” “How did you meet him?” You raise your eyebrows, “The gym.” “Is it a first date?” “It’s the 4th date.” Stiles scoffs, “What does the guy do?” “Are you seriously interrogating me right now?” You question with wide eyes. “No.” He answers unconvincingly. “How about I take you out tonight instead? We can do whatever you want.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, “I can’t break a date last minute like that. Not unless there’s an emergency or something.” Stiles waves you off, “Just tell him you’re sick. We can try the new Italian place that opened downtown. Or there’s a..” “Wait you’re dead serious?” You cut him off. He just nods. “Stiles, he’s a nice guy. I’d feel bad blowing him off like that. We can pick another day.” You wonder why he’s pushing this. “4th date.” Stiles mutters himself. “So you’ve had sex with him?“ “Really, dude?” You crack a smile at him. This man is really something else. “You didn’t answer the question, Y/N.” “I’m not in custody, officer. So I don’t have to.” You sass back. “I can arrange that ya know.” Stiles crosses his arms and it accentuates his muscles even more, you do your best not to gawk at him. “You’re ridiculous.” You add matter-of-factly. “And you’re sexy.” He grins mischievously. You giggle softly and it makes Stiles’ face light up, it should be illegal the way his eyes are drinking you in right now. The feelings it conjures up makes you feel flushed and fidgety, it’s the perfect time for more alcohol. You spring out of your seat and make your way back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen.

Is it bad that you actually want to cancel tonight? That would be such an asshole move. You do actually like Jeff, he’s a decent guy who’s treated you well so far. But then there’s Stiles, the Adonis that moved in right across the street from you and there’s no denying that there’s an immediate connection.

Lost in your thoughts, you grab a couple of beers out of the fridge then twirl around right into Stiles, you didn’t even hear him follow you in.

“Are you a fucking ninja too? I swear you and Murphy should be best friends.”

Stiles barely reacts, he’s too busy blocking your way so you’re stuck between him and the refrigerator. His delicious scent is starting to fill the small space and you’re trying your hardest to not be affected by it.

“I say we have two options, beautiful.” Stiles leans in closer. “I ask you to be my girlfriend right now and you say yes.” Well this is unexpected.

“Um Stiles…”

“Or you reschedule with Jeff and let me take you out tonight. After that if you still like him then I’ll back off.” “Your crazy is showing, Stilinski.” You try to stifle a laugh, getting a dramatic grunt in return.

“Are you gonna make me beg, woman? Cause I will!” Stiles runs his hand through his messy hair, clearly not used to being in this position. “Why can’t we go out tomorrow? It’s just one more day.” You search his face for the answer, unfortunately your attention focuses in on his gorgeous eyes. “You obviously like Jeff enough to keep going out on dates, Y/N. He will probably make things official soon and with my luck it will be tonight.”

“Ok but I…”

Stiles continues on, “We don’t know each other that well but trust me…I’ve never put this much effort into getting a date. At the very least I want a chance. A real chance.”

The man in front of you is so annoyingly cute. You’re beyond torn on how to respond to him, your heart and your head are at odds right now. Before your brain can even register it, you’re sauntering away from Stiles and his intense stare.

You pause at the door way of the kitchen, “Come on.” You wave for the troublemaker to follow you, he hesitates at first but then catches up with you.

“Where do you keep your uniform? Bedroom?” You ask with a glance to Stiles, as you both walk down his long hallway.

“Uh yeah. Next door on the right.” Stiles tells you wearily, he slows down a bit and trails behind as you stroll on into his room.

You immediately notice the clean yet simple looking room and start to search around for what you have in mind. Without turning around, you can feel Stiles’ eyes on your form as he leans against the door frame. Your face brightens once you spot his police uniform draped on a blue lazy boy in the corner of the room.

There’s a dark wooden end table where Stiles’ shiny badge, gun holster and duty belt are all resting on top of it. Your nosy self finds his handcuffs tucked neatly in the cuff case attached to his leather belt. The cop they belong to is now standing closer, he looks very entertained by your sudden interest in his job.

You steal the handcuffs and examine them, subconsciously biting your lower lip while you do, “Get on the bed.” You speak firmly, pointing in the direction that Stiles should start moving in.

“…uh Y/N, what are y…”

“Shut up and get on the bed, Stilinski.” You command sternly.

~

Masterlist 

[inqustvea]

   @egowood​  said ;   ❝ ♔ :  finding  your  muse  wearing  their  clothes  ( shut  up  just—just  answer  it  alright ? )  ❞                                            --  fine .

               one  always  finds  the  other ,  one  way  or  the  other ,  when  sunlight  stains  the  kitchen  just  like  it  once  did  with  his  old  bedroom ,  pouring  in  through  the  open  window  panes ,  no  curtains ...  ruined  floor  tiles ,  splintering  cabinets ,  crooked  drawers ,  and  no  incandesence  --  only  morning  shine .  so  warm ,  bare  feet  against  the  floor  make  him  feel  like  they’re  back  in  old  territory ,  in  the  weird  palace  off  the  other  coast ,   still  living  lavishly  with  too  much  time  on  their  hands .  yet ,  small  spaces  and  freezing  winters  leaves  a  dream -  like ,  yet  nightmarish  notion  rest  assured .  it  simply  can’t  be  when  they’re  always  dancing  nearby  the  verge  of  claustrophobia ,  and  still  looking  for  their  bodies  for  extra  warmth .  but  early  riser ,  despite  reluctance ,  doesn’t  feel  so  claustrophic  anyway ;   he  never  quite  does .  

               the  smell  of  bacon  and  waffles  and  the  sight  of  pink  boxers  is  what  draws  him  in ...  pink  boxers  and  wrinkles  of  blue ,  either  dark  in  the  shadows  or  washed  out  by  the  sun  as  it  glimmers  on  his  narrow  back ,  his  dainty  shoulders  that  carry  the  weight  of  cloth  that  could  only  swallow  him  up  if  he  didn’t  have  them .  furrow ,  when  it  seems  so  unrecognizable ,  even  deeming  unimaginable  on  his  own  body .  a  man  so  finicky  about  how  he’s  seen ,  he  basically  wears  the  same  things ,  five  things  five  times  within  the  five  days  of  the  week ,  where  the  rest  sit  at  the  bottom  of  his  drawers  to  fester  with  a  scent  of  how  cob  webs  he  thinks  would  smell .  he  shouldn’t  be  so  surprised  to  see  it  on  his  other  half ,  so  jealous ,  when  he  thinks  it  looks  better  on  him .

               slight  narrow  in  his  eyes ,  so  faint  with  his  own  selfish  wants  and  desires ,  but  it  doesn’t  stop  the  loving  smirk  twitching  ever  so  softly  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth  as  he  only  steps  closer .  it’s  a  sense  of  admiration  that  isn’t  equipped  with  force ,  but  rather  effortlessly ,  when  he ,  a  sight  for  sore  eyes ,  wears  the  colors  like  he’s  a  bed  of  pretty  daffodills  sitting  in  front  of  a  clear ,  cloudless  sky .  and  he  can  simply  find  himself  approaching  him  with  tenderness ,  one  arm  that  hooks  the  front  of  his  hips  and  brings  him  in  for  kiss  --  firmly  pressed  anywhere  except  his  lips ,  at  the  crook  of  his  neck ,  two  just  above  his  jawline ,  right  before  he  tells  him  ❝  ‘ morning ,  ❞  in  the  crooked  noise  of  his  own  voice ,  filled  with  morning  grogginess .  he  leans  his  head  back  and  takes  one  last  look  to  try  to  remember  the  last  time  he  could  remember  something  as  simple  as  a  shirt’s  existence .  he  knows  a  man  better  than  he  probably  knows  himself  --  no  way  one  owns  this  when  one  only  values  the  shades  of  cupid - stricken  hearts .  ❝  what ‘ d ,  you  get  a  new  boyfriend ?  ❞